Scent of Roses & Season of Strangers Read online

  Patrick spoke up just then. “I came here for Laura and Julie. I don’t know much about what any of you might have experienced but I’ve read that childhood trauma can surface in any number of ways. If what happened was painful enough, I imagine it might even come out as a belief in alien abduction.”

  “That’s right, Patrick,” Brian said. “It’s called False Memory Syndrome. It’s like a screen memory, only in this case the false memory is the one of alien abduction.”

  “How do the rest of you feel about that?” Winters asked. “Is the abduction phenomenon a memory created because of some earlier trauma? Is it merely coincidence, then, that your experiences are so much the same?”

  “It isn’t coincidence,” Carrie Newcomb, the pretty young hairdresser, argued. “We were abducted. All of us remember it nearly the same, the humiliation, the experiments, the sexual manipulations. If it’s motivated by problems from our past, why do all of us remember the same things?”

  “All right,” Brian conceded, “perhaps for some of you it isn’t trauma. Perhaps it’s simply a shared hallucination. As Carrie just mentioned, many of the overtones are sexual in nature. Given the climate of repression we face in this country, that might mean the delusions are self-inflicted, invented by a society that has trouble dealing with its unfulfilled physical needs. Freud would most probably think so.”

  “Well, I think you and Dr. Freud are full of shit,” Laura said hotly, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the group. “If you had been there, you wouldn’t have a single doubt that what happened to you was real.”

  Both Brian and Patrick fell silent. Julie noticed that Patrick in particular seemed absorbed by the stories being told. The group talked for a while, each person relating his personal experiences, repeating incidents he had mentioned before, expressing fears or asking questions. It was a painful session, just as it had been before. Carrie Newcomb had tears in her eyes when Willis Small finished his pitiful tale, and Robert Stringer’s face looked drawn and pale.

  Julie noticed Patrick was frowning, the muscles across his shoulders knotted with tension. She hadn’t realized the suffering these people spoke of would affect him in such a way.

  Then Laura’s voice caught her attention. “There’s something I need to say.”

  Dr. Winters turned in her direction. “Go on, Laura,” he urged.

  “It’s something I remembered, something I have to tell Julie.” Laura’s eyes swung nervously in her sister’s direction.

  Brian Heraldson reached for her hand. “Laura, we talked about this. Think about what you’re about to do.”

  Beginning to feel apprehensive, Julie sat forward in her chair. “It’s all right, Laura. What is it you have to say?”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Julie. I know deep down you don’t believe any of this is real, but you were there with me. I remember seeing you. I don’t know why you can’t remember, but I know you were there—I saw you.”

  A chill splintered down Julie’s spine. She locked her hands together in her lap. “I couldn’t have been there, Laura. Even if your incredible story is true, it couldn’t have happened to me—I don’t feel any of the things you and the others feel, and…and I don’t have that mark on my arm.”

  “Actually, any physical marks are rare,” Dr. Winters put in gently. He gave her a reassuring smile. “I realize the concept is frightening, Julie, but just for a moment why don’t we explore the possibility that your sister is correct?”

  “I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Julie’s right,” Patrick agreed. “It isn’t a good idea. Laura has enough problems trying to deal with this. Dragging Julie into the picture will only make matters worse.”

  Laura ignored him. “Please, Julie—do it for me?”

  “I think it’s time for us to go home.” Patrick stood up and reached for Julie’s hand.

  “It’s all right, Patrick. If Laura wants me to try, what could it hurt?” She turned to the doctor. “What should I do, Dr. Winters?”

  “I thing the best way to start is just to tell us what you remember. Relax for a moment and just take it easy. Try to think of that afternoon on the beach as if it were passing in slow motion.”

  Julie nodded. “All right. I can do that.” Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, returning her thoughts to that afternoon, imagining the hours they had spent on the beach.

  “There was a dog, I remember. A big black dog way down the beach, trailing along near the water. It was really hot and Laura and I were tired. I remember hearing this thick, funny buzzing, then the radio went dead.”

  “Go on,” the doctor urged.

  “That’s about all I remember. We fell asleep a few minutes later and when we woke up, I had this terrible headache. Over the next few days the headaches got worse, but I don’t think they had anything to do with my falling asleep on the beach, and lately they’ve been fading.”

  “How long were you asleep?”

  “A couple of hours at least.”

  “On such a hot day, you must have been badly sunburned lying out there in the open.”

  “No, I…actually, now that you mention it, I wasn’t burned at all. I remember being surprised at the time. I wasn’t wearing much sunscreen.” She frowned, uneasy with the thought. “I don’t…I don’t know why I wasn’t burned.”

  “Anything else you recall? Odd things you might have noticed later?”

  Her frown deepened, digging tiny lines across her forehead. “I remember I had a small pin dot scab at the bend in my elbow. It looked like a puncture of some sort, but of course it couldn’t have been. And my wrists were sore. In fact I was a little bit sore all over.”

  Laura surged to her feet. “You see, Julie? Robert Stringer heard the same thick buzzing sound, just like we did. Neither of us was sunburned because we were inside the ship.”

  Julie said nothing. It was nonsense. It had to be. Yet her heart was thudding painfully.

  “The soreness could have come from fighting against restraints of some kind,” Leslie Williams suggested. “That happened to me.”

  “Wait a minute.” Brian stood up beside Laura. “This whole thing is getting out of hand. It’s hardly fair to suggest something like this to Julie. Up until now she hasn’t had the least thought of any such occurrence.”

  “Dr. Heraldson is right,” Dr. Winters agreed, to Julie’s surprise. “A bit of exploration is one thing, the power of suggestion is something completely different. There is no point in placing thoughts in Ms. Ferris’s head.”

  “No, there isn’t,” Brian finished, casting a reproachful glance at Laura.

  “I’m sorry,” Julie said to the group. “I realize you can make any number of deductions from what I’ve just told you, but the fact is I don’t remember anything remarkable about that afternoon. I fell asleep on the beach and woke up with a headache. That’s as far as it goes.” She smiled sadly at her sister. “I can’t say I’m unhappy I don’t remember, Laura. Even if what you think happened turns out to be true, what you’re going through makes me glad I can’t recall.” She felt Patrick’s hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle yet persuasive.

  “I think we ought to go home.”

  Julie nodded.

  Laura reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for trying, sis.” She managed to smile but it came out wobbly. “In a way, as you said, I’m glad you don’t remember.”

  The two girls hugged, and Julie left Laura in Brian Heraldson’s care for the ride back to her apartment. No matter their differences on the subject of abduction, there was a growing attraction between them. Compared to the sort of men her sister usually dated, Julie couldn’t help but feel glad.

  Walking next to Patrick, she waited while he opened the door to his Porsche and settled her inside, then he rounded the car and slid in
to the driver’s seat.

  In silence he started the engine, sat for a moment listening to the powerful roar, then he shifted the car into gear. The evening had been even more bizarre than she had warned him. And some of the things she’d remembered about that afternoon did made her think.

  Julie wondered what Patrick was thinking.

  * * *

  Layers of pink and orange seeped over the brightening horizon. Since Julie had an early morning meeting with her clients, the Harveys, to gather additional loan information for their condo purchase, Val woke her before sunrise so she would have time to go home, shower and change. Val walked her to her car, kissed her goodbye and watched her drive away, then he climbed into his Porsche and set off for the hills.

  He needed some time alone. He needed time to think, to go over the things he had learned at the meeting he had attended with Julie last night. The things he had felt when the subjects of the Ansor’s testing—victims they called themselves—had spoken of their ordeal.

  He had known it affected them, of course. There were medical procedures involved, and any sort of bodily intrusions, no matter how sophisticated, were always uncomfortable. It was the mental anguish he had not until now understood.

  In theory, yes. He had known Earth subjects experienced a certain amount of trauma. For a special few like Julie, it could even be life-threatening.

  Still, it wasn’t until he had joined with Patrick that he could actually understand the intensity of their subjects’ emotions, the amount of suffering they endured. It had to be a hundred times worse than he had believed, perhaps a thousand. The sensations he experienced here on Earth, the colors, sights, sounds, tastes and smells had finally given him the ability to relate to their ordeal. The emotions he was now capable of feeling gave him an insight into the terror, humiliation and helplessness a Torillian couldn’t begin to understand.

  Last night, listening to their stories, seeing the pain in their faces, feeling the agony they had endured, he finally understood.

  The engine purred. He had come to love the somehow soothing sound. Turning the car down an empty stretch of highway, he pulled into a deserted overlook that peered down on the awakening city and turned off the motor. Lights sparkled like tiny stars below him. Somewhere above, the Ansor’s lights flashed in the rim of its hull. He couldn’t help thinking of his comrades, that at this very moment they might be bringing another subject aboard, setting free all the emotions he had encountered last night and dozens of others he could only begin to imagine.

  For the first time it occurred to him to question the Ansor’s mission. Was the damage they were inflicting worth the information they were gaining? Where did science stop and humanity—in whatever form—begin?

  And what was his responsibility in all of this? Was it his duty to somehow persuade his people to end the testing, at least in its current form?

  But the answers did not come and as the sun rose higher, the peace of the morning faded. Val started the car and headed back to Beverly Hills, back to the problems he faced in his office.

  At present, his most pressing concern was Sandini and McPherson. He had been holding his so-called “partners” at bay with one excuse after another. Sarah Bonham of the Teachers’ Pension Fund was calling him every other day. It seemed their executive committee was just itching—as Patrick would have said—to buy all of Westwind’s phony discount paper.

  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold them off. Another week perhaps. After that, he didn’t know. He only knew he needed time, time with Julie, time with the other subjects in the abduction group. He wasn’t going to get it—that fact was becoming more and more clear.

  And there was something else.

  The bond was growing stronger between him and Julie. His feelings for her were building, becoming deeper each day. In a short while, he would have to leave her. He hadn’t considered that it would be a problem. Now just the thought made his chest go tight and his stomach roll with nausea. He didn’t understand it. He only knew that the notion of leaving Julie brought him pain.

  He had promised not to hurt her.

  Now he wondered if his leaving would cause Julie that same pain.

  * * *

  Julie dashed through the front door of Donovan Real Estate, grabbing her messages from Shirl but continuing past her office. A quick knock at the door and she rushed into Patrick’s office, smiling at the sight of his dark head bent over his desk studying what appeared to be Ron Jacobs’s most recent real estate contract.

  He glanced up, his intense blue eyes climbing steadily to her face, and her stomach did a sweet little curl.

  “Hi,” she said a bit breathlessly. She wished she could blame it on her harried afternoon, but she knew it was simply the sight of him. He had always been a handsome man. Now, the underlying strength, the purpose that burned in his eyes, made him nearly irresistible.

  He smiled, a flash of white against smooth, suntanned skin. “You’re certainly in a hurry. Something exciting going on?”

  “Not exactly. I’m a little pressed for time, is all.”

  “So what’s new about that?” he teased.

  She smiled. “I need to take those books I borrowed back to UCLA. While I’m there, I want to look through the latest newspapers and magazines for articles on UFOs. I’ve done some work on the internet and I plan to do more, but I feel like I get more out of an actual magazine. I thought I might convince you to go with me.”

  Patrick frowned. “I thought you were through with all that. After last night—”

  “Last night I said I didn’t believe I’d been taken aboard a spaceship. For Laura’s sake, I’m still trying to keep an open mind.” For her own sake as well, she silently added.

  Patrick leaned back in his chair. “If you’re researching UFOs, there’s still the problem we discussed, the one involving the speed of light and the thousands of years it would take to reach other galaxies. I don’t suppose you’ve figured a way around that?”

  Julie grinned. “Believe it or not, I might have. During my internet research, I ran across a woman—an astrophysicist named Meryl Stover. She teaches in the physics department at USC. Dr. Stover believes there are several ways we might be able to reach—perhaps even break—the speed-of-light barrier. I read some of the articles she wrote and then I called her. I told her I was doing some research on space travel, and she was kind enough to give me an appointment to see her tomorrow afternoon.”

  Patrick smiled but he certainly didn’t look happy. “I can’t go with you today, but I wouldn’t miss tomorrow for the world.” His expression changed, his eyes moving downward, traveling over her body in a way that made the heat rise into her cheeks. “And there is tonight, of course.”

  “T-tonight?”

  A corner of his mouth curved up. “I thought we’d eat in. I’ll cook, and we can go to bed early. We can go to your place if you like. Then you won’t have to get up and drive home.”

  Julie thought of the invitation addressed to Patrick she had noticed lying on Shirl’s desk. “What about the party?”

  “What party?”

  “Jack Winston’s big celebrity party at The Grill? I thought for sure you’d be going.” The old Patrick wouldn’t have missed it.

  “I’m not going…not unless you’d like to go.”

  Relief trickled through her. Julie shook her head. Jack Winston and his bunch of movie-star groupies were the last people she wanted to see. “No, I…I don’t really care much for that sort of thing.”

  He smiled. “Then it’s settled. Your place tonight for dinner and a moonlight walk on the beach. Tomorrow we see Dr. Stover.”

  * * *

  The night was even better than Patrick had promised. He had cooked some sort of Oriental noodle soup and served chocolate ice cream for dessert. Patrick’s food tastes continued towar
d the strange, but the meal was good nonetheless. Afterward they walked the deserted beach and wound up making love on a blanket in the sand. Except for Patrick’s late night strolls through the house, which awakened her twice, she had slept like the dead and woke up later than usual.

  After a hectic morning at the office and a meatball sandwich to go from Prego’s, just down the street, Julie joined Patrick for the drive to the University of Southern California. A search of Dr. Stover’s office and classroom proved unsuccessful. They finally located the professor in her laboratory, several buildings away.

  Meryl “Smoky” Stover was seated at a desk in the corner, hidden behind several stacks of files that almost completely obscured her. Only her crown of sandy brown hair peeked through. She was dressed in white lab clothes, which hung loose over her short, wiry frame.

  “Dr. Stover? I hate to bother you. I can see that you’re busy, but—”

  “That’s all right, I’m always busy.” She rose from amidst the disarray, a small woman in her fifties, the kind of lined, craggy face smokers often get, probably the reason for her nickname. “You must be Julie Ferris. Come in.”

  The doctor sized both of them up as they entered the laboratory, smiling with interest at Julie and obvious appreciation at Patrick. She might be middle-aged, but she was definitely female and she wasn’t dead yet, her thorough glance said.

  “This is Patrick Donovan, Dr. Stover. A friend who is also interested in space travel.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Taking in their conservative dress, Patrick in his Versace double-breasted, Julie in navy blue slacks and a white silk blouse, it was obvious the woman had her doubts. If so, she didn’t voice them. “Well, I hope I can be of some help.”

  She drew a cigarette out of a pack on the desk, stuck it between her fingers, but made no effort to light it.

  “I’m trying to quit,” she explained as she walked across the laboratory, the cigarette gripped between her fingers. “Been three months and I’m still going crazy.”

  “It can’t be easy,” Julie sympathized, she and Patrick following along in the doctor’s wake. The room was large, filled with interesting clutter, the walls lined with colorful graphs and charts. Models and mechanical devices covered the countertops, machinery unlike anything Julie had ever seen.