November 1, 2009 Works in Progress

California, like most of the United States, used Daylight Savings Time. The last weekend in October was designated for the change back to Pacific Standard Time. Precisely, the change occurs at 2:00 am, when clocks are set back one hour. In 2009, the last day of October, the 31^st, Halloween, was on a Saturday.

At about an hour and a quarter before the changeover, in the San Francisco Bay area of California, on November 1, 2009, the sun reached its nadir. On the opposite side of the planet, the sun was at zenith, local noon. For this place and time, this was the actual point of midnight, the beginning of the Witching Hour. A few knew that. A very few knew this was more than a legend. And a very, very few knew that this was a time that those with the Art could open a very, very special Gate . . .

Benicia decided to take a walk around the grounds. The weather was chilly, but dry, and for the moment there was no wind. She did not pause to analyze herself first. If she had, she might have realized that her curiosity about the "missing" cars was less about investigating these people for her father than about getting away from them. And from Pleione . . . she was finding it harder and harder to stay near Pleione. She hardly noticed the cold this night as she picked her way around. She'd always been able to see well at night, even without a moon, and the moon was up tonight, waxing in its second quarter. It provided more than enough light beyond the streetlights and the lights at the gates and from the windows of the house . . . odd that there weren't floodlamps in this place with so much security . . . enough even as fog rolled in . . .

Pleione turned away from the window. "I was checking on Betty. She's outside."

"Why don't you just go out there with her?" said Al with her typical directness.

"I think she wants to be alone."

"Really?"

Pleione hesitated. Alcyone was pretty good at sensing lies and half-truths. "I think maybe she doesn't want to talk to me now, especially."

"Got any idea why, sis? She after Johnny too?"

"No, she's not after Johnny. I don't think she's after any guy right now."

"Oh? Does she like girls more, like Mitch or Harry?"

Pleione frowned. "Al, you better not call them that!"

"That dumb I'm not. So, sis, do you think your friend wants to be more than your friend, or what? She make a pass at you?"

"No," sighed Pleione. "No, that isn't it."

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

"Try asking her."

"I did."

"And she said?"

Pleione shook her head. "It's not important exactly what she said. But she didn't really tell me what was bothering her so much."

Alcyone shrugged. "So have Sarah read her."

Pleione shook her head. "No. She's my friend. I won't do that to her just because she's out of sorts for a little while." She walked from the window over to the railing; Alcyone followed her. As they leaned over to look down, Pleione asked, "Who's that girl with mom?"

"Her name is Helen Mitchell. She came with the Grey Lady."

"Mom sure seems interested in her."

"Yeah. Anyway, she's actually from Japan. She was adopted by a family over here. Her real name is Himiko . . . lessee . . . Sanjouin Himiko. Maybe she's from some family Mom knows over there?"

Pleione shook her head. "Mom's never told me about anyone named Sanjouin. Anyway, if the Grey Lady brought her, she must be from her world."

"Yeah, I guess so. But there are people who are the same in both worlds. Or almost the same." Alcyone shrugged. "Why else would mom be so interested in . . . " She trailed off.

"Well?" asked Pleione of her sister. "What great thoughts are you thinking now?"

"Look at her, Pell. Helen sort of looks like mom, a little . . . maybe . . ."

It took Pleione a few more seconds to figure out that Alcyone was trying to start up one of her "gaslight" gags again. She whacked Alcyone on her behind, making a noise loud enough that some people looked up from the main floor.

Yaten said nothing; Yaten knew. But Shi--again where others wished she was not--said, "That is all? That is all the great Grey Lady does?"

Without turning away from the remains of Yaten's son, the grey-clad mistress of necromancy said, "He is beyond my Art."

"But when another moon--" Sailor Venus began to say.

"He is forever beyond my art," said Argent, still without turning away.

"And my nephew?" asked Sailor Uranus.

Argent shook her head.

"You fraud!" cried Shi.

Argent at last turned about. "They are both beyond my powers. But there may be another way."

A long object appeared in her hands, wrapped in embroidered silk similar in pattern to her gown, and to the cloth on which all that was left of Yaten's son lay. "There is only one of this world who can wield this safely. You, the Senshi of Metal, the Queen of Swords." She handed it to Sailor Venus.

Shi could sense something about the artifact, something of power. But still it was not enough to keep her from saying as she saw it uncovered, "It looks like a cheap toy! The blade, it doesn't even have a point!"

"It is quite sharp enough for the purpose," said an unfamiliar voice from behind Shi.

Shi was startled. She turned to see a woman dressed in a peculiar way, quite different from anything she had seen on this world so far. Still, fear never stilled her sharp tongue. "And what purpose could that thing possibly have?"

"For parting heads from necks, young fool." The woman held up her left hand to her throat, to her long, slim neck. Shi noticed that the pendent the woman wore was in the form of one of the letters of the alphabet used to write English and some of the other major languages of this world which was supposed to be her home now. A "B." And she noticed other things . . . the hand up to the woman's throat had six fingers. Glancing down, Shi counted only five on the right . . . and glancing further down, she saw that there were no feet under the woman's peculiar gown. And just as she noticed that, the woman faded away. It was only when the woman had gone that Shi realized that she had heard the words of the ghost in Kinmokugon, not in the Japanese everyone else had been using.

"She was a client of my mother's, child," said the Grey Lady. "One of the many shades bound to this blade."

"Not long, child. Not long."

"She's helping someone, Simone," said Aura in the language of this land and time.

"She doesn't have her feathers now," said Simone. "Can't they wait until they grow back? We haven't seen mama for a long time."

"She must do what she can now," said Alvarson.

"Is this someone that important?"

"Aura, don't say things like that!" scolded Aura.

Alvarson held up his palm. "The person is a senshi. But if she were not, Argent would still do what she can to help now. She has lost her child."

"I hope mama can help," said Simone. "But she can't bring anyone back with no feathers. Can she, grandpa?"

Alvarson shook his head. "No. But there may still be hope."

Ishtar had come, with a concerned look. She had a question . . . but she wasn't going to ask it in front of Simone. Alvarson could see that in the older child's eyes. Instead she knelt down and enclosed Simone in her wings. "Remember me?"

"Yes. Where's Kimi? and Sarah?"

"Kimi's over there flirting with that boy," said Ishtar, pointing. "And Sarah hasn't got back with our last guest, I think."

"Oh."

Alvarson stepped up close to Ishtar, and whispered, "Careful with your wings, kid. They're not supposed to be real. Talk to me later?"

After taking a few steps along the west front of the fence, tipped with more-than-decorative spearpoints, Benicia stopped and began to light up another cigarette. But she noticed ahead of her something moving, and caught a glimpse of fire. Another smoker?

Or maybe someone worse . . . would anyone hear her if she cried for help?

A shape emerged from the fog, silhouetted faintly by light from behind. Then Benicia finally heard muffled footsteps on the long-cut grass.

Benicia tensed, undecided. Run? The fog was so dense now, she would likely stumble on something before she ran too far. And if it was just a guest, she would look damned silly . . . Whoever it was surely would have noticed her by now.

"Who's there?" she called out.

Whoever it was, stopped. The shape was someone, definitely, though still too far off to identify.

"What do you call yourself?" came the delayed reply. It was a man's voice, probably--a tenor's voice, pleasant, sensuous . . .

"I'm Betty. I'm one of the guests. Just out for a smoke, you know. And you? I don't remember meeting you. I'd remember your voice, I think. It's nice."

"Thank you."

"You still haven't told me who you are."

"I am an old friend of the family."

The man had begun walking again. This time the footsteps seemed softer, and yet there was no hint that he was trying to creep up on her. He began to emerge from the fog. Benicia took a few unconscious steps back before catching herself.

"Which family?"

"The Alvarson family."

Benicia couldn't think of anything else to say before the stranger stood before her, less than an arm's length away. Surprisingly, he was not much taller than herself; she had thought he would be larger. His hair was a light color; exactly what she could not tell; there wasn't really enough light to make out true colors. He was wearing a cape, a long one, held in place by a silvery chain that gleamed.

"You came in costume?"

"You might say that," he said. "Not something that is worn here normally."

"You have an accent. You are from overseas?"

"From far away. You would never have heard of it."

"Really . . . " Fear was turning into fascination. This was another phenomenon Benicia did not analyze, then. She was well into losing herself in a magic moment, without a care for her father's machinations. That this was not normal behavior would be apparent to her . . . later. But now, she was here alone with an attractive stranger . . .

"I have never seen it like this," piped in Usagi's eldest, ever-ready to assert. But then the conversation bubbled to another subject, and another.

Alvarson said nothing. He knew the special significance of this fog. Great matters were being dealt with, no doubt. But they would go on without interference from him. He would not spend another moment of the precious hours before dawn on anything other than enjoying his family, reunited. One could never be certain there would be another such time . . .

She got out of bed quietly, and went to the single window of the dormer. Through the trees in the yard and the other side of Arlington, she could pick out one of the red-orange towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, crystal clear across San Francisco Bay. But the sun had not cleared the ridgeline in back of the mansion yet. Down in the front yard, the grass was coated with frost.� Strange . . . it had been so pleasant out there, not that long ago . . . she looked at her watch, or rather at the empty place on her wrist where her watch should have been. Glancing around the room, she didn't see it. She didn't remember where she had put it. In a drawer? The drawers were noisy, liable to stick. Not worth waking up the two little angels . . . and answering more questions.

Shrugging, Benicia set off on a more urgent need than finding the time: Finding her way to a bathroom.

Pleione took another look out the dormer's window before she left. There was activity, some people on the other side of the fence taking pictures. Pictures of what?

Pleione almost laughed aloud. Someone had made huge "tracks" in the frosted lawn, big enough for a dinosaur. Sarah? Alcyone? Maybe both . . . Alcyone went in for the most elaborate practical jokes, but Sarah was the best organizer of mischief. At least according to what Pleione had told her.

Possibly she could catch Pleione alone now, or soon, before everyone was up.

Benicia took the elevator down. There was a stairway to the attic level, but it was hardly ever used; it was a narrow stair at the end of a narrow corridor. Some of the dormers had trapdoors and ladders leading into bedrooms below, but not hers. Pretty much everyone used the elevator.

But Benicia went down just one floor, to the level that held the regular bedrooms. One of them belonged to Pleione and two of her sisters. In truth, Benicia was on her way to check that room, although she took her time, noticing this and that, particularly how quiet and empty the big house seemed. There were faint voices from below, but the big front room was deserted. She was on her way to see if she could talk to Pleione alone . . . when she passed a door that wasn't quite closed. She stopped and gently pushed it open a bit, then a bit more. She heard nothing inside. Opening the door further, she saw no one inside.

<Why not?>

Alvarson might have lived for many centuries, but he had as much need for sleep as his mundane ancestors. It wasn't that uncommon for him to stay up for days at a time--but he was not his best, and was liable to sleep straight through a day or more afterward.

On this morning, he had been up for a long time. His wife wanted him to come to bed. Unexpectedly, he insisted on staying up. Alvarson was normally quite malleable by women he cared for, and if his eyes strayed, he had seldom broken a marriage vow as he understood it. Akemi did not press him; neither did she ask him why he was staying up. She had learned that there were things better left unknown.

He did not seem to be doing anything more earthshaking than gossiping in the kitchen over coffee and tea. But he was speaking what Usagi thought of as the Old Tongue, which was in fact related to his mother tongue more closely than the senshi knew--yet another secret he cared not to reveal. Nevertheless he needed a spell to boost his skill with it; the Moon Kingdom dialect was about as far diverged from the language of his childhood as Basque or the Wahapan dialect of Argent's world.

"We must find out if any of the women or girls of age have had an encounter with an unusual stranger. I suppose I should start with you, Sovereign."

"When would I have had the time?" quipped Usagi. Then her tone grew very serious. "Do you mean, with a strange man?"

"A man, or a boy."

"A ghost?" asked Naru, who was more and more sensitive to them as her Art grew.

"Like the lady--"

"More than a ghost," said the ancient wizard, cutting off Minako.

"You said 'girls of age,'" said Naru. "Do you mean--"

"Yes, that is what he means," said Usagi, before calling out to her daughters.

Sarah didn't have the room to herself, though; there were two beds, two desks, two dressers . . . Kimi had to be the other occupant, Sarah's oldest half-sister. Figuring out whose was whose was not hard, though; Kimi's bed had to be the one that was remade, her desk and her dresser the ones with less clutter and more thoughtful arrangement. Mostly Benicia knew this from what Pleione had told her, but after observing the younger sibling first-hand over the last two days, she knew.

Still, Kimi was the greater mystery, and left to herself, Benicia would probably have investigated Kimi's things first. But Sarah was the alpha female among the kids, more likely to know something her father would want to know.

Each desk had a computer. Sarah's had three different game controllers and a monster set of headphones. Kimi's only accessory was a small pen tablet. Benicia decided to look at the computer last; it could take a lot of time, and it was the easiest thing to excuse if she was caught.

If Sarah kept a paper diary, Benicia didn't find it, or if she did, didn't recognize it. There were things in Japanese (she supposed) including some letters. The letters she could understand were mostly too old to be from Mrs. Urawa or her children.

There was also a photo album. Glancing through it, Benicia found several pictures that included the Yount children. None of them had anything that Benicia could use to place them or even date them for sure. Possibly a professional could find something . . . but taking the pictures was more than Benicia could make herself do, and she rationalized, perhaps correctly, that the risk was not worth the small possibility the pictures might really be important.

Replacing the album in its drawer, Benicia felt something under the old t-shirt it had rested on. Why was a shirt in the drawer, anyway? Under it, Benicia found a picture frame, face down. It was a fine frame, made of pewter or silver, with cedar backing; not cardboard. It was a table-top frame, with a cedar prop attached with two tiny brass hinges. <An antique?>

Picking it up, Benicia turned it around. The frame held a photograph, a modern one. Sarah was in it. Of the three people, she was the one on the left. The cut of her jeans was out of style, but she didn't look too much younger.

On the right was a boy, none too tall. He resembled Sarah, had precisely the same color of hair . . . or the same color Sarah colored her hair. <Cousin I haven't heard of?>

Between them was a girl with very long blond hair pleated into a single broad braid. She was bent down, her face tilted, a little blurred. She looked like she was laughing.

Who was she? Who was the guy? Why would Sarah hide this? Maybe it was just a gift she didn't care for that much, so she just got it out of her way . . .

<No.>

Benicia stared into the picture a long time, trying to fathom its secrets, until she became aware that she was no longer the only one in the room. Turning, she saw Kimi--or maybe Ishtar, they were so alike. Benicia probed for a second--it was Kimi. <And she felt me . . . >

Kimi took the picture from her, and set it on Sarah's dresser--in a spot that wasn't as sun-faded, that fit the picture perfectly. "Sarah would get really mad if she caught you going through her things."

"I'm sorry." Benicia meant it. But . . . "Do you know these people?"

"That's Sarah."

"And the other two? I don't remember meeting them here."

Kimi seemed to stare through her. "You shouldn't be in here."

Benicia couldn't help but read the thoughts of the girl again, and again, the girl sensed something was happening.

"No," came a new voice from the doorway. "You can stay."

It was Sarah. They exchanged words in another language--not Japanese, for Benicia could at least recognize the rhythm and pick out a word or two of that by now. Whatever it was they spoke of, Kimi left the room.

Sarah wasn't exactly alone--she was carrying a baby. That wasn't unusual at all. The baby, who like so many here had a lot of hair for its age, regarded Benicia with enormous, deep blue eyes, as Sarah walked up to Benicia. Benicia could do nothing, not even read thoughts. What would Sarah do?

"Would you like to hold her?"

That was so unexpected that Benicia took the child without thinking at all before she did. Finally she managed to say, "Girl or boy?"

"Girl, of course. She is Ikuko, my sister."

Benicia couldn't really tell what Sarah's voice and expression meant. There was anger--but that wasn't all.

"Half-sister?"

"Yes. We have different fathers. My father was Aunt Nancy's brother . . . He died before I was born."

"And did you get along with your stepdad?"

"None of--" Sarah's temper showed for a moment, but she reigned it in. "Mamo-chan was a wonderful father to me and to Kimi and to Lily and to Ishi. I miss him a lot . . . what's your father like?"

Benicia thought she had knocked Sarah off-balance for a moment, but if she had, it was a short moment. Sarah tried to be as honest as she could, for conscience, or tradecraft, or both. "My father is all about his work. He was like that before my mother died."

"You mean your real mother, or your father's wife?"

That surprised Benicia, and she took a few moments to decide how to answer. "If you are talking genetics, my father's wife. I'm not a 'love child' like you, though. I'm a test tube baby."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Mom had some kind of genetic defect, so she used donor eggs for me and my brother."

Sarah asked, "If you aren't a 'love child' like me, how come you told Pleione you were?"

"I didn't . . . exactly. I told some other guys, and Pleione heard. Anyway, it's not really important. My father can be a first-class son-of-a-bitch. I don't want any of my friends meeting him if I can help it."

"So you don't know who your mother is? I mean, the donor?"

"No. No idea."

"Don't you ever wonder?"

She was playing finger games with the infant by now. "Sometimes." <At least she's off my father . . . > "I mean, who wouldn't?"

Nothing more of consequence was said until Pleione came to the door. She hesitated a long moment, looking very oddly at Benicia, and then called Sarah outside. They talked for a little while, intensely. Benicia understood nothing of it, and still couldn't read. Something about the confrontation with Sarah had really affected her power . . .

Before Benicia could think too much on that subject, Sarah and Pleione came in. Sarah took the baby from her and left, while Pleione took a seat on Sarah's bed, after straightening it out a bit.

Benicia spoke first. "Are you mad at me too?"

"Ne-e-eh . . . About not really being a love child?"

"That, and snooping around on your friend." She reached back and touched the framed picture. "Who are they? No one seems to want to tell me."

Instead of answering, Pleione asked a question of her own. "Did you meet anyone last night?"

"More people than I could shake a stick at. Or remember shaking a stick at."

"I mean someone special . . . a boy. I was watching you. You were outside for a long time."

"Why are you so worried?" asked Benicia, genuinely puzzled. She did not need to read Pleione's mind to know she was sincere. "Anyway, what are you doing snooping on me?"

"I'm sorry."

She was. "It's OK. But why are you so worried about me? I'm a big girl. You know that."

"So you did meet someone."

"Well . . . yes."

"What was he like?"

"The best ever. You want the blow-by-blow?"

Pleione blushed. "That's not what I mean."

"Well, it's the truth . . . You know, you could have been doing better things than checking up on me last night. Like dragging Johnny Brown into your room."

Now Pleione was really red-faced. "That wouldn't be right."

"What's not right about making love with the guy you love? At least you know you're going to see him again."

"It's not right because--"

"Because what? Because nice girls don't do it?"

Pleione said carefully, "It's not right because I don't feel it's right."

"You figure he would turn you down?"

Pleione shook her head. "No. He couldn't. And after that, he'd be mine, because that's the way he is. But I want him to want me. I don't want to have him just because he feels he owes me something. And besides . . . I don't want to start having babies yet."

"You can--"

"Have you noticed that I have seven sisters and a brother?"

"You could have a point," said Benicia slowly. "But seriously, anyone with a brain can see that Johnny belongs with you."

"Except Johnny."

"I said 'with a brain.'"

Pleione actually laughed for a moment. But she quickly grew serious again. "What was this guy like? He must have been really special. From what you've told me, you don't like sex that much."

"Not until last night . . . " She shook her head again. "He was just wonderful."

"So who was he? Don't you want to see him again?"

Benicia shrugged. "I don't know his name. And I'm not sure I'd want to meed him again. I mean, maybe he's really a jerk. Probably he's a jerk. But . . . he was just what I needed last night, I guess."

Instead of just saying "yes" or "no," Auntie Usagi asked some questions that had nothing to do with breakfast. "Lily-chan, Mimi-chan, you are staying with Betty-san. Do you know anything special about her? Has she told you anything we should know."

Lily hesitated to reveal a secret, but Mimi spurted it out. "She doesn't like her real name."

"Real name?" The little man asked that question.

"It's 'Benicia'," said Lily. "Like the town, I think. I don't think we should call her that, she doesn't like it."

Auntie Usagi nodded. "Is there anything else you think we should know, Lily-chan."

Lily shook her head emphatically. "Can we go to the TV room?"

"Yes," said Auntie Usagi, and that would have been that, except . . .

Except as Lily and her closest friends began to leave, Hermetia stopped in her tracks, turned back toward the grownups, and said, "The preacher who makes all the trouble, he has a girl named 'Benicia..'"

Even her mother's phenomenal mind had not made that connection.

At last control of her power returned, and she tested Pleione as subtly as she could. All she could tell was that Pleione knew something about her she did not before. Benicia's power was, in fact, great, but she had had no training--who would do it? Given training, or experience, or simply time for her powers to ripen more, she could have probed to find out what Pleione now knew, or thought she knew about her.

There was a simple method that would probably work--ask Pleione. Pleione had as yet encountered few people duplicitous enough to avoid thinking about the answer to a question they did not want to answer.

Why did she not ask?

Perhaps it was because she did not want to hear the answer. Not yet. Not yet . . .

"Yet" arrived on squeaky wheels, bearing Mrs. Chiba.

Mrs. Chiba didn't look that menacing--it is difficult for a woman who is nursing to do so. Sarah, pushing her mother, wasn't happy, but anger wasn't her prominant emotion. Alvarson came close behind, scurrying comically on his short legs--but that was the only comical thing about him. He said something; whatever it

was sounded like a command.

Sarah spoke. "Who is your father?"

"I'd rather not say," replied Benicia as gracefully as she could. As she did, she reached out to probe Sarah's thoughts--and found that Sarah was probing hers! She had never met anyone except her father--

Sarah turned to the little man and spoke in the language she did not recognize. Alvarson nodded, and turned back to face Benicia. "So it was your father trying to pick my brain." He smiled, not very warmly. "What shall we call you now, Ms. Swainson?"

<Christ, she read me when I thought about Father, and now--> "I prefer to be called Betty Beringer. My mother was a Beringer, and my middle name is 'Elizabeth.' And I really do hate 'Benicia.'"

"Very well, Betty Beringer," said Alvarson. "What do you think you know of us, and how much have you told him?"

"She knows I read her mind," said Sarah.

A question came to Benicia. "Why didn't you read it before?"

"Because Pleione asked me not to."

Benicia flushed. Pleione rose and began to leave the room, but Mrs. Chiba said something--and so did Pleione's mother, edging into the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Pleione," said Benicia to her friend's back. "I really am."

"Yes, you really are," said Mrs. Chiba, and when Benicia looked into her mind she got yet another shock--Mrs. Chiba could hear her thoughts, and more.

"Why did you do it?" asked Pleione with cracking voice without turning to face Benicia.

"My father asked me to. That's why."

"You told me you thought Reverend Swainson's followers were fools."

"A lot of them are."

"But you really believe him?" asked Pleione.

"I believe he thinks this is important."

"But do you know why?" asked Alvarson.

"He doesn't know why," replied Benicia. "But he believes it is."

"And you believe him," said Pleione.

"About this, yes."

"But you hate him. Or was that a lie too?" said Pleione 

<No!> Before she could think about what she was thinking, the memories came to her mind, and, of course, to Sarah's and to Mrs. Chiba's. Their eyes widened enormously--but they said nothing, not even in the strange language.

Benicia addressed her words to Pleione. "My father has done some terrible things. But he is my father. I think he does a lot more good than evil." <That sounds so corny, but how else to say it?> "I wouldn't have agreed to spy on you guys just so Daddy could get some more publicity for his church."

"Does your father have more gifts besides reading thought?" asked Alvarson. "Prophecy, perhaps? Appropriate for his profession. My late daughter had that gift."

Mrs. Chiba said something that made Alvarson nod and raise an eyebrow a bit. Whatever it was, Pleione understood it too; she at last turned around to face Benicia. Her eyes were red, and tear-tracks striped her cheeks.

More people were entering the room, and still more were crowding outside. It was a big room for a bedroom, but not big enough to hold everyone in the house. <I guess the word is out.> A clock chimed from somewhere. Westminster chimes, sounding out the hour of nine. <I wonder how much trouble I can get in by

noon?> Everyone seemed to be talking, or whispering, but the English she could pick up didn't say much, and she couldn't read many thoughts--maybe Sarah and her mother threw her power off. Or maybe she was just tired; reading minds was work.

Everyone kept looking at her. Finally, with Kimi and Ishi, Lily and Mimi, and a green-eyed girl--<Nereid,> remembered Benicia, Michiru's girl by Dr. Chiba--all lined up in front of her, she said, "This is it. This is all I do," cadging a line from an ancient Cary Grant movie.

And then Lily broke her heart by saying, "I don't think you're really bad."

"Thank you, Lily," she managed to get out. "Did you tell them?"

Lily nodded. "We had to. You really don't remember your real mother?"

"I'm a test-tube baby, Lily. Do you know what that means?"

"We know what that means," said Mimi.

"You have a brother," said Lily. "Does he have blue eyes and black hair like us?"

"He has brown eyes," said Benicia. "He flies airplanes in the Navy. I don't know if his egg came from the same lady. Probably not."

"Maybe you have a brother you don't know about," said either Kimi or Ishi.

Benicia shrugged. She really felt low now, much to low to read these children. Also too low to wonder why Kimi or Ishi, both notably bright, would have speculated about a genetic half-sibling of hers.

After awhile, someone handed her a bawling baby. It quieted instantly. "Oh, little Ikuko. What's the matter?" At least this tiny one didn't feel betrayed by her.

Benicia didn't notice that everyone in the room grew quiet as they watched her with the baby.