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  The lingual stimulation soon brought the young one to her feet. Seconds later its muzzle found the maternal teat. High-octane colostrum flowed down its throat for the first time and the fawn felt energy course through its new body .

  Mother guided daughter to a spot about 30 yards away. The fawn flattened itself, splaying its four feet outward, its head lying directly against the grass-cushioned ground, and its brown and white, speckled fur blending into the background .

  The new mother hurried back to her nesting site. Once more the telltale contractions moved through her as she tried to push more leaves into place. This time a male fell to earth, a cloud-drenched space alien landing on the soft bed of forest castoffs .

  The roe deer carefully prepped her second new baby, filling its ravenous mouth with milk and moving it to the forest safe house .

  Once again she felt the contractions and a second male fawn entered the world, braying faintly on impact .

  She moved as before to lick the third one’s face but it didn’t respond. She licked more vigorously and finally a thick mucus plug dislodged from the unmoving fawn’s mouth and nose .

  The roe’s head nudged her baby. Still no response. She began licking its entire body until she felt it move. She nudged it once more and slowly the young one stood and began to suckle .

  It took longer but finally she moved the second male to a hiding place. Exhausted, she returned to her bed and lay still. It was now her turn to recuperate. The care and protection of three fawns was a daunting challenge .

  Two of the three women lying prone and side by side in the tall grass were taking a break from their men. They all were peering furtively through binoculars at the spectacle of birth. Wistful smiles crossed their faces—though for different reasons.

  “Did you see that? I thought she was going to lose that last one,” Nancy said.

  “Nature isn’t nice, Carmelita. It plays no favorites. That doe could just as easily have hemorrhaged to death or lost all three fawns in some birthing accident.”

  “It’s all genetics,” Sandy added. “The stronger the alpha male, the better the chances his progeny will survive and thrive.”

  She had seen the cycle many times in Africa.

  Remembering her own lost child, Nancy looked at the young woman lying next to her, the one who had become surrogate to her maternal need. She still marveled at the vagaries of life, how fate could cruelly or gently influence a person’s destiny.

  What would have become of Carmelita and her brothers if she and Edison and Galen hadn’t been visiting Bald Head Island some two decades ago? It’s doubtful she would have chosen that spot for a vacation if she had been raising a child. And what if the three of them had evacuated with the others when the hurricane warning sounded? Would someone else have rescued the orphans?

  Carmelita was thoroughly enjoying the visit with Tia Nancy and her newfound friend. She had been so pleasantly surprised to meet Sandy at Safehaven when she arrived for summer vacation. She had laughed approvingly when Tia Nancy described the petite doctor as Galen’s classmate and “ladyfriend.”

  By now the three had developed an easy and comfortable manner with one another. But the brief respite from her graduate studies was all-too-quickly coming to an end.

  “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’m going to meet Mike in Los Angeles.”

  “Mike—oh, is he your boyfriend?”

  Carmelita was about to point out that she had been talking about him incessantly for weeks. Then she realized she was being set up.

  “Oh, I’m sorry Tia Sandy. I was sure I had mentioned him before.”

  “Perhaps you did, dear.”

  They exchanged grins. Sandy took a more straightforward tone.

  “Have you made your decision?”

  “I think so. Mike wants me to move out there. He says I can continue my schooling at UCLA, maybe even do a double doctoral degree in linguistics and semiotics. There aren’t too many people going into the field right now and he says I’d be in on the ground floor of opportunity if I did.”

  “Is that what you want, Carm?” Nancy asked. “What about Yale? I thought you wanted to stay and do your doctoral there.”

  She saw the young woman’s expression change instantly to one of distress.

  “No, Tia,” Carmelita said, her voice almost a whisper.

  Nancy and Sandy sensed the nature of the problem, and they patiently prodded Carmelita to reveal what had happened that previous spring...

  * * *

  She was standing in the office of Dr. Winston Zieg, professor of applied linguistics and for the moment her faculty adviser. She had submitted her proposed doctoral dissertation topic to him, on tribal isolation and the effect on monotonal speech patterns, a rarity found among the people of the Amazon Basin.

  “Carmelita Hidalgo. Nice name. Is your family from Spain or South America?”

  “I was born in Cuba, sir.”

  “Oh, right. I’d forgotten.”

  Zieg was exercising the routine he reserved for female students with Carmelita’s physical attributes. But because he had exercised it so many times he could also see it wasn’t working.

  He sat down behind his cluttered, undusted desk, biting his lower lip. A couple of decades ago he could have charmed the pants off her before she knew they were gone. Now he had degraded into the stereotypical middle-aged male, his body surrendering to gravity, his hair thinning and migrating to less attractive locations. His appearance, a stagnating career and a justifiably suspicious wife had been steadily curtailing his influence over the distaff members of his classes.

  Now he relied on the intimidation of his stature. Sometimes he just used brute force.

  Carmelita had learned about his background and reputation via the student grapevine. It was why she didn’t want him as her doctoral adviser—and she certainly didn’t want to be in a room alone with him. The problem was no other faculty member had experience in her arcane research area.

  Her heightened perception had always served her well in her studies, and here with this guy she could read him like an open book. She knew what was coming.

  “Ms. Hidalgo, I’ve read your proposal very carefully. On the surface it’s an intriguing topic, but I find your argument for pursuing it unpersuasive. My position at the moment is to reject it.”

  She gritted her teeth. She knew the translation of the words “at the moment.” What Zieg really meant was, “unless I get what I want.”

  She stood there as he continued with the routine, but she also felt the stress rising within her, that disembodied feeling the brain transmits, as if to say this isn’t really happening.

  “Of course, we could work on the concept to flesh it out more to the department head’s satisfaction.”

  The schmuck actually worked “flesh,” “head” and “satisfaction” into the same sentence.

  “I ... I appreciate that, sir.”

  She was stalling for time.

  I need to get out of here .

  “Please excuse me, but I have to get to my next class.”

  She turned to walk out of the room, but before she had taken two steps he was upon her, grabbing her around the waist with one hand, cupping her breast with the other, turning her toward him and summarily thrusting his tongue down her throat.

  Reflexively Carmelita brought her knee up and caught Zieg squarely between the legs, causing him to stagger backward, momentarily disabled. She headed to the door.

  “I’ve got to get to class,” was all she could muster as she hurried outside.

  In the hallway simultaneous waves of fear, revulsion, anger and guilt swept over her.

  Dear God!

  * * *

  The emotion of reliving that moment, which she had suppressed, now gushed out in a flood of tears.

  “Oh Tia, I thought about filing harassment charges, but they’d never stand up in an inquiry. He’s too experienced at this. I’d come off as a female graduate student trying to impugn a tenured faculty
member who rejected her work.”

  “What other options do you have?” Sandy asked.

  Carmelita started to recompose herself.

  “I request another adviser, or if I can’t find one at Yale, I transfer to another school. Either way I lose time, but I wouldn’t have to deal with Zieg.”

  “Have you told Mike?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wanted to fly to New Haven and ‘punch out the sonofabitch.’ I talked him out of that, but it’s why he wants me to move to California.”

  They were standing up now, the older women brushing off their clothes.

  “We need to have a family council,” Nancy said. “Can you stay a little while longer? I’m sure your young Greek god will understand. Hell, he might even want to help!”

  “Tia, I appreciate that, but this is my problem.”

  “No, child, it isn’t. If that beast assaulted you then he’s going to have to tangle with all of us. Sandy, you want in on this?”

  “Damned straight, sister. I’ve dealt with my share over the years.”

  Dark brown doe eyes followed the trio as they ascended the mountain trail.

  They sat at the large oak table after dinner, four old timers and one young woman, still savoring the glazed shrimp and vegetables Nancy had prepared for them.

  As Carmelita rose to clear the dishes, Nancy stopped her.

  “We’ll get to that later, girl; you need to tell them what you told Sandy and me.”

  A reluctant Carmelita repeated the story. Edison and Galen listened, their indignation and anger rising.

  Edison wasn’t a profane man. Impatient with fools, yes, but his temperament was more phlegmatic than Galen’s. Maybe it was the experience of being at the bottom of the pecking order as a child. Maybe it was the attention and caring his parents had bestowed on him.

  This was different. He felt something snap. Galen was about to speak but Edison preempted him.

  “Predatory sonofabitch!” he said, pounding the table.

  His tone was explosive. Nancy had never heard him use such words before.

  Sandy smacked her fist on the table as well.

  “That’s more like it, Bobcat! You’ve found your cojones !”

  “Uh ... Sandy, we don’t use language like that here,” Galen cautioned.

  “Sometimes it’s called for, Bear.”

  “Bobcat?” Nancy asked.

  “Until now he’s been a pussycat, but someone has threatened one of his cubs.”

  “What does that make me?”

  “Sister, as President Palin once said, you’re a mama grizzly!”

  “Sonofabitch,” Edison repeated.

  Galen noticed his flushed face.

  Better check his BP later .

  “You’re right. I do feel like a mama grizzly,” Nancy retorted.

  “Easy, easy, all of you; we’ve got some serious talking to do,” he said, turning to Carmelita.

  “Carm, I’ve heard a lot of this over the years from my women patients. I know you’d rather walk away and not face this guy again. But you’ve got a lot at stake here. Why should you throw away everything you’ve worked for because this lowlife wants to use his power to prey on you?”

  “Lowlife predator sonofabitch,” Edison snorted.

  Usually Nancy would shoot her husband a “cool it” look at such a remark. Not this time. She felt her own anger.

  “You three hotshot doctors have been through the academic gauntlet. What are Carm’s options?”

  “They’re limited,” Sandy said. “Whatever he did in that office it was just the two of them, so it’s his words against hers. He was clever enough not to cause her any physical harm. If Carmelita says or does anything now, no one would believe her to be anything but a disgruntled graduate student.”

  “Wouldn’t his fellow professors know that Zieg is a womanizer and a predator?” Nancy asked.

  “They probably do,” Galen said. “This stuff gets around. But academics tend to tolerate a lot—unless somebody hits on their own wives or daughters. I’m also sure he’s not alone.”

  “Sons of bitches,” Edison huffed again.

  Galen noted that the flush on his face was deepening.

  “Carm, is there anything else you can tell us about this man?” Nancy asked.

  “Tia, even if the professors won’t say anything, their wives certainly know. Campus gossip has it that Mrs. Zieg has been trying to rein him in for a long time.”

  Momentary silence, then Edison jumped in once more.

  “Sonofabitch!”

  His tone was different this time. He was upbeat, jubilant even.

  “What the hell?” Nancy asked him.

  “Carm just gave us the answer!”

  The face flush gone, Edison grinned a big wide grin. He reached for an apple in the table’s fruit bowl and took a healthy bite out of it. Four pairs of eyes reacted with puzzled stares.

  “Uh ... dear, you want to let us in on this?”

  “Wouldn’t think of leaving you out,” Edison said, continuing to beam.

  He was a mild-mannered genius, but when riled this particular genius was to be feared. Exclamations and laughter filled the room as he detailed his battle plan.

  The oldsters slept well that night.

  She had always been afraid of water.

  Her first vivid memory was of the day that Sandoval Hidalgo, her beloved father, had taken her to the beach at Santa María del Mar, where he coaxed his timid 4-year-old into the surf.

  No sea el asustado, pequeña .

  “Do not be afraid, little one.”

  She could see his smiling face beckoning her, his back to the sea, when suddenly a large wave appeared and swept them both off their feet.

  She remembered choking, fighting for breath, alone and underwater—until her father’s strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her into the air.

  She remembered that moment when her father told her that they would all be leaving for America on a boat. When she said she didn’t want to go, again her father reassured her.

  No sea el asustado, pequeña .

  And she remembered watching her parents, Sandoval and Felicita, drift away from them in a storm-tossed sea, after they had lashed her and Antonio and Federico to the raft.

  ¡Excepto mí, papá!

  “Save me, Papa!”

  She felt those strong hands reach around her waist and begin to lift her.

  ¡Papá, usted me ha ahorrado!

  “Papa, you have saved me!”

  She turned to him.

  Her relief became horror as she saw the face of Winston Zieg, his mouth wide open, his tongue protruding at her, waving back and forth like the head of a snake, coming closer ... closer...

  Carmelita sprang awake in a cold sweat that drenched her nightgown.

  Edison brought the wireless speakerphone to the breakfast table. Carmelita dialed Mike’s number in California. A yawning voice answered.

  “Dimitriades.”

  “Mike, it’s me.”

  “Carm? Hi, babe. You coming out tomorrow?”

  He perked up quickly.

  “No, Mike, you’re coming here.”

  “Huh?”

  “Listen, honey, I’ve told my folks what happened with Zieg. Tio Eddie thinks we can take him down.”

  “Hey, kid, still listening to satellites?” Edison chimed in.

  “Uh-huh. Why?”

  “We’re going to catch a rat and we need you and Freddie and Lilly to be the catchers. You game?”

  “Uh ... sure, if it’ll help Carm.”

  “Get out to LAX. We’ll have a ticket for you to Greater Pitt at U.S. Airways this morning and a commuter flight to Wilkes-Barre/Scranton. You’ll be spending a couple of days with us. Then you and Carm and Freddie and Lilly are going back to school!”

  Four electronics experts stood in Edison’s workshop, one of the younger three shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Tio,
what do you think you can do with that?”

  Federico Hidalgo’s skepticism was obvious. Mike said nothing. He had been the first to arrive, the first to be briefed, and the first to be blown away.

  Lilly Daumier slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Freddie, shut up and listen!”

  The old man was holding what looked like a standard-issue, pen-sized tripod smartphone, but with a mottled metallic surface.

  “So you think you know what this is?”

  “Tio, I build these things.”

  “Where’s the camera, boy?”

  “It’s right there at the top, just like every other...”

  “Nope!”

  Freddie took the device and examined it.

  “It’s right ... uh ... huh?”

  He began studying it from all angles.

  “Tio, what the hell is this thing?”

  Edison grinned and shook his head. Lilly took the device from Freddie.

  “This is different. There’s no camera lens, no projection lens, no speaker. And this material, it’s ... Tio, what is it?”

  Nancy, Sandy, Carmelita and Galen stood silently in the background. This was Edison’s show.

  “Stumped you both, eh? Watch this.”

  Edison took the little tripod back from Lilly and set it up on a tall wooden stool in the middle of the workshop. Then he motioned for everyone to follow him upstairs and into the dining room—except Mike, whom he directed to stay.

  “You know the drill,” he said.

  As soon as everyone got seated, Edison dimmed the chandelier a little and set up a twin of the device on the table.

  “Unit 1 activate,” he said softly, “unit 2 activate.”

  Suddenly the room brightened with a full-size, 360-degree, holographic projection of the workshop. The image clearly showed Mike walking around, handling objects, and smiling in various directions as though he knew where everyone was sitting upstairs.

  Freddie’s jaw dropped. Carmelita hugged the old man, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, “You’re wonderful, Tio Eddie!”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Okay, Mike, do your stuff.”

  “Right, Tio.”

  With that his holographic image began interacting one at a time with everyone at the table. He patted Galen’s shoulder, lunged out to punch Freddie’s nose, causing him to duck, and planted a kiss right on Carmelita’s lips. She covered her face in shyness. It was obvious that the device Edison had left in the shop was interacting with the one on the dining room table. Each was projecting what the other was seeing.