When Chenille Is Not Enough

Cecily peered around Kyle’s arm. “What are you all doing on the floor?” She moved to his side, but came no closer. “We found spumoni.” She held out the carton.

Bozidar rolled to his feet and approached Cecily. “That aroma . . . it can’t be. Please, show me!”

“Show you what?” Cecily asked. “This?” She placed the carton on the cutting table and lifted the lid.

The smell of chocolate, pistachio and cherries swirled around the room. Bozidar staggered and fell to one knee. The three singing aliens clutched each other, whimpering.

Cecily closed the carton. “Sorry,” she whispered, grimacing. “Didn’t mean to cause a panic.”

Edna poked Bozidar with a spoon. “What’s with you people and ice cream?” She smiled at Cecily. “This isn’t your fault, child. They’ve been jumping around like squirrels since you left.”

“So, did the plan work?” Kyle asked. “Are the renegades listening?”

“Those three came on board without a fuss,” Louise said as she rose. She pointed at Rupon. “That one didn’t. He snatched Susan. Then Bozidar told him who she was and he collapsed.”

“Sorry,” Cecily said.

“I told you it wasn’t your fault,” Edna said. She poked Bozidar again. “Are you okay?”

He lurched toward Kyle and Cecily. “Please, show me again. I assure you I will be fine.”

Cecily’s eyes flitted from Kyle to Edna to Louise and back to Bozidar. “Okay,” she said, and removed the lid.

Bozidar closed his eyes and inhaled. He stepped forward, eyes still closed. Motioning to the other aliens, he opened his eyes and exhaled. “Come, my cousins. See what they have brought us.”

Bozidar waited until they joined him. The three linked hands. The female offered her hand to Bozidar, who stared down his nose at her until she dropped her arm to her side. He stepped to the cutting table. The others followed, keeping a straight line.

“This is one of my favorites,” Cecily said. She picked up a scoop and filled a bowl. “You can’t always get it. I remember when it was one of those seasonal things, at Christmas. Spumoni, peppermint, and pumpkin pie. I’d wait all year and then agonize over which one I would beg for first.”

She stuck a spoon in the bowl and handed it to Kyle. She picked up another bowl, wrinkled her nose, exchanged the bowl for a spoon and took a bite from the carton.

“Oops,” she mumbled. She swallowed, and put the spoon down. “Didn’t mean to be rude. So, who wants some of this?”

Bozidar clapped his hands over his mouth. A strong smell of lavender washed around them, and all four aliens trembled.

Bozidar dropped his arms to his side. “It is forbidden to eat the stotlet of the emperors,” he whispered.

“But it’s just a combination of three flavors that we already have,” Kyle said. “You didn’t get upset earlier.”

“Then they were separate,” he said. His clan huddled behind him, and the female clutched at his elbow. “The Ceremony of Combining is one of our most sacred.”

“Hold on just a darn minute,” Edna said. She took the carton from Cecily. “Didn’t you say these flavors represented leading clans? Except they haven’t led anything in a long time? So what’s the big deal now?” She snatched a spoon and took a bite.

The male who had eaten strawberry ice cream shrieked and fainted. The female tightened her grip on Bozidar’s elbow. The third dropped to the floor, cowering. Rupon, slathered with melting ice cream, began to chant.

Susan stuck her fingers in her ears and counted to ten. When she finished, she sat on her knees, straightened her back and took two deep breaths. On the second breath, she put her hand on her diaphragm and said, “Quiet!”

Her shout projected throughout the room.

“Wow,” Gary said. “My voice teacher could take lessons from you.”

“When you have a teenager and two toddlers in the house, you use every weapon at hand,” she said. Rising to her feet, she faced Bozidar. “Tell us everything we need to know about your stotlet ceremonies. Now.”

“The recipes are secret, and the ingredients unique to each clan are carefully guarded.” The words tumbled over each other in a squeaky whisper. He inhaled, paused, and pointed at the spumoni. “The last time this stotlet was served was at the coronation of the last emperor. No one has seen it in generations.”

Susan intertwined her fingers and brought them under her chin. She frowned at the floor. “So, the only way you could have ice cream like that would be for each clan to provide it.”

“Yes.”

“And there must have been a big ceremony involved.”

“Yes.”

She dropped her hands, leaned forward and said in a voice ripe with humor and conspiracy, “And don’t you think we can use this to solve all of our problems?”

Bozidar’s lips wobbled, making him look like a feeding goldfish. He gulped, and his breath came in short, shallow bursts. “You would invite the elders of all the clans to a coronation? Here?”

“No!” The cry came from Scott, Cecily and Louise. The three of them exchanged glances like motorists at a four-way stop who can’t remember who goes first.

“Of course not,” Susan said before anyone else could speak. “No one is inviting any more of you here. We want you to go home. But we could send you off with a little documentary, something to impress the elders with your abilities as a diplomat. Something to make sure everyone is forgiven and there’s no need for another visit.”

“But how would they know unless they were here to witness the ceremony?” Bozidar asked.

Cecily held up her hand. “Film maker, right here. Ready to work. I’ve even got a camera stashed somewhere. Brought it with me this morning.” She paused, shaking her head. “Omigod, was it just this morning that we tried to figure out why those symbols on the quilt and the computer screen looked alike?”

Susan scanned the store. “Yes, it was. We’ve had a long day. Too long to start filming now. We need rest, and time to plan.”

“And more ice cream,” Louise said. She pointed to the cutting table. “It’s melting.”

A tiny sob worked its way past Bozidar’s lips before he clamped them together. Rupon ceased chanting and began wailing. The female trembled so much that she rustled.

Susan rolled her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “Bozidar, tell them they can eat every last bit of stotlet if they will just be quiet.” She turned to Cecily. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Cecily said, giggling.

“Give your mother a break,” Edna said. “Who do you think taught her about the Bribery School of Parenting?” She shook her finger at the aliens. “Whining kids, whining critters, you’re all the same.” She grabbed two bowls of ice cream, handing one to the female and one to Bozidar. “Eat. Behave.” She pointed at Cecily. “Give some to the others, and spoon it down their throats if you have to. I’d rather hear choking than crying.”

Scott drew Susan to the far side of the cash register. “I agree that we all need rest,” he said, his cadence measured and his voice low. “I also agree that we need time to plan. But what do we do with our guests?”

Susan looked over her shoulder. Rupon fed the males on the floor, while ice cream dripped from his folds. Bozidar helped Gary extricate his arm from the female’s grasp. Kyle and Cecily refilled bowls.

“I’ll turn the living room into an alien dormitory,” Susan said. “I survived Cecily’s sleepovers, I can survive this.”

Scott crossed his arms. “I’d tell you that isn’t a safe plan, but I know whose daughter you are.” He glanced at his wife. “You know Edna will want in on this.”

“Of course. You two can take my room. I’ll bunk in with Cecily.”

Scott smiled, but his eyes were skeptical. “You’ve thought about this for two seconds and have a plan for everything.”

“Yes, I do.” She took him by the elbow. “Come with me.”

“You really are your mother’s daughter,” he muttered.

“Bozidar, alert Marsel,” Susan said. “Tell him what we plan to do, and that we need to return to my house. See if he’ll transport your clansmen if you can’t manage by yourself. We don’t have seat belts for everyone.”

His hands trembled, and he placed the spoon in the mound of half-melted ice cream. “You were serious . . . your offer to film a ceremony . . . to allow us all to return - ”

She stared at him, tilting her head ever so slowly. “Why would I joke about getting you back home?”

“We’ve got a family legacy to uphold, space boy,” Edna said. “Wake up Marsel and let’s get moving.”

Bozidar wiped his hands, moved the black box from the shelf to the cutting table, and tapped in a code. His cousins gathered around him. Rupon stayed on the edge of the group. The screen glowed.

“Greetings, Marsel,” Bozidar said. “I have marvelous news.”

Edna wiggled to the front of the crowd. Marsel’s image took shape on the screen. “He doesn’t look happy,” she said. “Tell him about our plan.”

“He’s trying to, Mother,” Susan said as she shuffled Edna next to Rupon. She nodded at Bozidar and stepped to the side.

Marsel, barking questions from the moment the connection was established, continued vocalizing but made no sense as the words tripped over themselves on the way out of his mouth. Green smoke wrapped around his forehead and swirled out of view like a tornado. A tendril of smoke swept past his face, and his speech was consumed with coughing.

Bozidar leaned into the screen and shouted. “I said, I have good news. Our cousins agree to end their vendetta and return home. The descendants of She Who Found Us overlook the unfortunate events. And if you will keep silent I will reveal a plan that may appease the elders of all the clans. Even the blues.”

Marsel stifled a cough and waved his hands about to disperse the smoke. He raised one hand to the screen, closed his eyes, and touched his chin three times with the other hand. Taking a breath, he said, “I have said the prayer of biding time. Speak quickly.”

“We will create a new ceremony, using the human version of the stotlet of emperors. We will record the ceremony, and I will send it to you to show the elders. Once they have seen it, I will return home with the four who were once lost to us.”

Marsel’s mouth sagged. “Perhaps you spoke too quickly. No, no, do not repeat yourself. Let me consider the ramifications of this plan.”

Susan cleared her throat. “Transportation, Bozidar,” she reminded him.

“Oh, yes.” He turned to his clansmen, asking consent with his eyes. After each one nodded, he faced the screen. “The ceremony will occur in another location. I will send the coordinates. Delay the transference until my signal.” He ended the connection.

“What’s this about a signal?” Scott asked.

“A precaution,” Bozidar said, shrugging. “Should there be complications at the house - ”

“I understand,” Scott said, ” but how are we going to signal you?”

“Through me,” Edna said, pushing her way into the conversation. “I’ll stay here. You make sure everything is quiet at Susan’s, then call my cell.”

Cecily and Susan exchanged frantic looks. “Grandma, maybe I should stay. I’ve done the sparkle light travel thing - ”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to stay,” Edna said with a growl. “I’m tired of everyone else having all the fun.”

“Scott, what do you think?” Susan asked, but Scott shook his head, backed away and held up his hands in surrender.

“It will be an honor to have you accompany us,” Bozidar said, bowing.

Susan lifted her hands in resignation. “Fine. If it makes you happy.” She scanned the showroom. “Let’s clean up, then get home for some rest. And someone please towel off Rupon. I don’t want him dripping on my floor.”

Louise stacked the empty ice cream cartons. “Kyle and I can manage this. You go ahead and close up.”

“Let me bring one of the larger trash bins in here,” Gary said.

He and Susan headed toward the back of the store. She went into her office while he went to the storage area. Cecily slid in the room behind Susan and closed the door.

“Mom, are you sure we should let Grandma stay here?”

“No, it’s a ghastly idea,” Susan said, flipping off the computer. “But even Scott can’t stop her, so we don’t have a choice.” She halted her tidying, one hand hovering over a stack of bills, and studied her daughter. “Why are you so uneasy?”

Cecily shifted from one foot to the other. She scratched her nose and tugged on a lock of hair, all the while looking at the desk, the floor - anything but her mother.

“Out with it,” Susan said.

Cecily squared her shoulders. “What if she likes the transport beam thingy? What if she wants more?” She took a step closer and whispered, “What if she wants to go back with them?”

Susan felt her brain was frozen, but every nerve in her body twitched. Her fingers trembled, and a tic pulsed under her left eye. Her gaze flitted from Cecily to the empty spot on the wall where the crazy quilt usually hung. She tried to speak, but wasn’t certain the words came out.

Cecily rubbed her eyes and paced. “She can’t go unless they decide to take her, so we’ve got that in our favor. I can’t imagine Bozidar inviting her along.”

“One crisis at a time,” Susan said.

“You said that already.”

“Did I?” She reached for her chair and lowered herself onto the seat. “I wasn’t sure.” She re-stacked the papers on her desk. “The plan is for you to film the ceremony, and Marsel to show it to the elders. We’ll just insist on following the plan.”

“That doesn’t always work with Grandma Edna,” Cecily said. “Should we talk to Scott?”

“Too risky. Edna might overhear. No need to put ideas in her head.” The tic under her eye calmed, and feeling returned to her fingertips. Susan gazed at the empty spot on the wall again. “Let’s distract her with planning the ceremony. The quilt is still at the house. Ask what else she remembers about it. Get her and Bozidar talking, and we won’t have to worry about an invitation.”

Cecily laughed. Helping her mother to her feet, she said, “That’s true. I drove him nuts in the short time we spent in his pod.”

Gary opened the door. “We’re ready.”

“We’re finished in here,” Susan said.

They rejoined the others in the showroom. Kyle and Louise stood by the door, Edna had Bozidar cornered by the cash register, and the aliens stood in a line in the middle of the room.

As Susan approached, Scott whispered, “These four are happy to do as they’re told. I’m more worried that Edna will talk Bozidar’s ear off. Literally. I can see him melting from stress. She’s asked him a hundred questions since you left the room and hasn’t given him time to answer any of them.”

“That’s my mother,” Susan said, patting his arm. She hurried to Edna, rattling her keys along the way. “Mom, we’re leaving now. We’ll call as soon as we get home. Take a breath now and then so you can hear the phone. I’ll lock the door behind us. Don’t forget to turn off the lights before, well, before Marsel pushes the button.”

“Kyle and I are going home,” Louise said. She held the front door open. “We’ll come over tomorrow if you need us.”

Susan hugged her. “Thank you so much. I couldn’t have made it through today without you.” She squeezed Kyle’s hand. “And you, too. Get some rest. I’ll let you know the plan in the morning.”

***

At daybreak, Susan flipped the kitchen light, set coffee brewing, and avoided looking at the closed pocket doors to the dining room. She monitored every sound, from the soft clicking of the wall clock to the wheezing of her ancient coffee machine. She checked the time, then the carpool calendar. Not my turn. Should be an easy day. A normal day.

The latch rattled on the other side of the pocket door. One panel glided into the wall.

“Good morning,” Bozidar said, fastening the doors behind him. “My cousins experienced a quiet resting. Your carpet is soft and warm. As Edna predicted, they did feel more comfortable with the table over them. She called it a den, correct?”

Susan bobbled the mug in her hand, set it on the counter well away from the edge, and pressed her palms against her eyes. Letting her hands slip down her cheeks, she opened her eyes. “You’re really here.”

Bozidar tilted his head. “Only to monitor my clan mates. Your couch - that is the word? - generated a restorative sleep. Should I have remained there?”

“No, that’s fine. I was going to move you into the dining room anyway. At least until my younger daughters get off to school.” Her lips curled, one side then the other, as if they were doing a Wave. The smile refused to settle, and she gave up the effort. She filled the mug and offered it to him.

He leaned into the rising steam and sniffed. A question filled his eyes.

“It’s called coffee,” she said. “You drink it. Or we do. I didn’t think, I mean, you ate the ice cream so I just assumed . . .” She blinked once, put her hand on her chest, and began again. “What does your species eat for breakfast?”

A sweet scent of lavender filled the room as soft, pale purple smoke briefly obscured his features. “Your kindness will be celebrated in poetry cycles for generations to come. To offer us food of our choosing when we have caused so much unpleasantness - this is the sign of a noble character.” He bowed.

She shrank against the counter. “Um, thanks. But the choice was going to be between oatmeal and scrambled eggs. Maybe toast.”

“The offer was made, and appreciated.” He sighed and lowered his eyes. “And yet must be declined. I manufactured a nutritional supplement for them last night. Their systems are significantly out of balance. I left a cylinder for each.”

“Thank you.” She glanced at the clock. “Try to keep them quiet while the girls are eating.” She started for the hallway, but before leaving the kitchen asked, “What did they live on this last year?”

Bozidar cringed. A sharp smell of lemon and rancid olive oil overpowered the last whiffs of lavender, and pink smoke puffed from his ears. “Let us not speak of it. The story they told me is too humiliating to repeat. Should you discover the truth, they would not be able to face you for shame.”

“Okay.” She retreated one step. “I’m going to call the girls now. Maybe you should join your friends.” She scurried down the hall and up the stairs.

Cecily joined her sisters at breakfast and helped them get ready for school. The carpool arrived; the girls waved goodbye. Cecily closed the front door with a grateful sigh.

“I don’t think they noticed,” she said.

Susan joined her, wiping the oatmeal pot with a dishcloth. “Or they didn’t want you to know they noticed. Either way, they’ll have a normal school day. With any luck, we’ll send the aliens packing before they get home.”

Cecily leaned her back against the door. “I never realized how hard you worked to give us a normal life after Dad died. Never realized how important normal is, for that matter.”

“At least I have that to thank the aliens for,” Susan said. She fluttered the dishcloth. “Help me clean up the kitchen before the second seating.”

Cecily wiped the table and put away the honey and brown sugar. “I thought Scott would be up by now. Grandma Edna isn’t a morning person, but he is.”

“Yes, I am.” Scott stood before the closed pocket doors. “I went out before the girls came downstairs. Thought it would be better if they didn’t know we were here.”

Susan handed him coffee. “Were you out walking, or patrolling the perimeter?”

He laughed. “A little of both. What are the chances of me getting an English muffin?” He sat at the kitchen table.

“Excellent,” Cecily said, rummaging in the pantry. “I’ll even toast it for you.”

Susan put jam and butter on the table. She peeked in his cup, and brought the pot over for a refill. When he continued staring at his hands instead of answering her unasked question, she said, “What has Edna done now?”

He jerked his chin upwards. Cecily’s head snapped in their direction. Susan stood, coffee pot in hand, eyebrow raised, lips compressed.

“She got them to take her home before they transported here,” he said. His voice flowed from amazement to pride, disgust to distress, irritation to resignation - all in eleven words.

“Last night? How . . . never mind, I know how,” Susan said. Her voice ricocheted from fury to fear. Her pale skin edged toward gray before red covered her cheeks.

“Why?” Cecily asked.

Scott scratched his head. “She said she needed the box of Agnes’ things. She wouldn’t show me what was in it, just said we’d all find out today.”

“One of these days . . . ,” Susan said as she marched from the kitchen.

Scott cringed as her shouts for Edna echoed up the stairs and down the hall. “She’s more like her mother than I thought.”

“You have no idea,” Cecily said.

Her next comment was cut short by the doors to the dining room zipping open. Bozidar leaped into the kitchen. “Has Edna died?”

“Give it a minute,” Cecily said. When Bozidar clutched his chest and staggered against the door jamb, she burst into giggles. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t understand. Grandma will be fine. She and Mom fight all the time.”

Bozidar motioned to the others in the dining room. “No cause for panic. We are not under attack. Stay where you are.”

He staggered to the table and collapsed in a chair. Scott pushed his coffee cup toward him.

“Thank you,” Bozidar said, and swallowed the contents in one gulp. He grimaced, balled his fists, and exhaled sharply three times. “I am grateful for the medicine. A shock to the senses was exactly what I needed, although perhaps not so many at one time. Your species is stronger than I expected.”

Scott opened his mouth, but Cecily put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. She took the cup from Bozidar and put it in the sink, then sat next to him.

“So, this ceremony. We’ll need ice cream, and what else?” she asked.

Bozidar relaxed his hands in his lap. He chewed on his lower lip. “Perhaps the quilt? The one that She Who Found Us created. The elders will recognize the embroidery.”

The sound of two voices arguing filled the hall and invaded the kitchen. Stomping feet followed like thunder after lightning. The doors to the dining room slid open an inch, then snapped shut.

“I saw that,” Edna said as she entered. She slapped a piece of fabric on the table. “Tell your friends they can’t hide in there forever, space boy.”

“They can if they’re lucky,” Susan said. “It’s what we all want to do.”

“Good morning, Grandmother-dearest,” Cecily said, her voice dripping with sweetness. “What delightful treasure have you brought us today?”

Edna cackled and hugged Cecily. “It’s some of Agnes’ cross-stitch. Take a look, tell me what you see.”

Cecily picked up the linen square. She frowned, and rotated it once, twice. “Which way is up?”

Bozidar extended his hand. “Let me see.” He scanned the embroidered images, then laid it on the table with reverence. “This is another account of the crash and discovery. It is more precise and less . . . artful . . . than the story on the quilt.”

“I thought so,” Edna snatched the embroidered fabric and pointed to a symbol. “Look at this motif. It resembles that line of stitching on the blue silk block in Agnes’ crazy quilt. I never noticed that before. It’s as if I never really saw Agnes’ things, no matter how often I looked at them.”

Scott nodded. “We talked about that before, dear. The alien leader helped Agnes hide their presence.”

“What does it say?” Susan asked. She stood behind Cecily, staring at the stitched fabric in Edna’s hands.

Edna handed the piece back to Bozidar and settled in the chair opposite Cecily. The three women focused on his face, their gaze never wavering.

Shifting in his seat, Bozidar traced the symbol in the lower right corner with his finger. “This is an old fashioned style of writing, the kind used in epics and, oh, what is your word?” He closed his eyes and tapped his foot. “Sagas. Those stories were sewn into banners. Start at the bottom right, and zigzag all the way to the top.”

“But what does it say?” Edna asked in a low whisper.

Bozidar placed two fingers on the first symbol. “In the time of exploration, when the path to power and knowledge first opened, we put our broad sail on our brave craft - ” He paused, looking at the women. “Did I mention this is an old fashioned style of writing?”

Scott cleared his throat. “Are all the symbols that . . . descriptive?”

“No, only these first three. They follow the conventions of the old sagas. This next one simply says they sailed through the stars. Then there was a problem. A flare from a dying star. It damaged the ship. They landed in an ocean, and . . . I think this means the ship was further damaged by a large sea creature.”

“It looks like a whale to me,” Cecily said.

“Thank you.” Bozidar examined the next symbol. “I have no idea what this means.” He passed the fabric to Cecily.

“Is it a ghost? What do you think, Mom?”

Susan leaned over Cecily’s shoulder. “Could be.”

Edna stretched across the table and took the square. “I don’t recall Agnes telling ghost stories.” She rubbed her temple.

I told the workmen the warehouse was haunted Susan heard in the back of her mind. She shivered, and asked, “Where did Agnes hide the aliens?”

“The warehouse,” Edna answered without hesitation. “How did I know that?”

“Concentrate, Mother,” Susan said. “Let the knowledge come to you.”

Edna’s eyes brightened. “Agnes was in the warehouse. She went there to sketch the symbols on the boxes. She liked having different embroidery patterns from everyone else. She heard the leader, tried to help. But the workers came, and they started loading the flour sacks for delivery.”

“And Agnes told them the warehouse was haunted,” Susan said.

“Because the foreman was superstitious enough to send for a priest,” Cecily said.

“How did you know that?” Edna asked.

“It runs in the family, dear,” Scott said. “I’ve been watching. You have the same expression, touch that embroidery with the same reverence, even your cadences follow the same rhythms.”

Nervous chirps came from the entrance to the dining room. The aliens huddled in the doorway, holding hands and swaying.

Bozidar hissed at them. “Get back. Do you wish to anger the spirit of She Who Found Us?”

Susan heard a sweet laugh in her head, like birdsong after a storm. She squeezed Cecily’s shoulder. “Do you think Agnes is angry at them?”

“No,” Cecily gasped. “She’s . . . amused. It’s like I can hear her laughing.”

“So can I,” Edna said. She leaned toward Bozidar. “This is getting interesting, space boy. Invite your buddies to the party.”

“I have a better idea,” Cecily said. “Let’s set the camera up in the living room. We can drape Agnes’ quilt over the coffee table, so everyone can be close to it.”

“Then what?” Scott asked.

“Then we start talking,” Susan said. “And see where Agnes leads us.”