Designed to Love (7 page)

Cat sighs and lifts the ice pack off my
cheek, gingerly running her finger over the now healing laceration,
thanks to Claire's touch.

"All better," she says, changing the
subject. I can see the look of determination on her face and I know
better than to push the issue any further. I was sure the topic
would resurface over and over again in the future, and although it
wouldn't be easy, eventually Cat would make the right decision for
Claire.

***

Cat's Thanksgiving feast is recognized by
all of us, as one of the best we've ever had. Even Bernie, an avid
cook, compliments Cat and the two engage in a long discussion about
cooking techniques, favorite recipes and the perils of cooking with
stainless steel. Burke is the only one absent from today's
festivities. He caught a late flight back to Montana to spend
Thanksgiving with his parents. I felt guilty declining his parents'
offer for Cat and me to join them, but with the loss of my parents
still fresh on everyone's mind, I considered it best to give it
more time. Now, I'm glad I did. The atmosphere at the Freeman house
is jovial, and there is a sense of camaraderie between us, Bernie
included. She tells us that she didn't get married, has no kids,
and most Thanksgiving holidays were spent alone or working. All of
us can relate to her loneliness on some level or another.

Even Brandon, whose parents are still alive,
has spent the past few holidays separated from them. He says that
after the airplane crash had left him disfigured, his parents
stopped including him in their elaborate vacations with their
wealthy, aristocratic friends.

"Everything is about appearances with my
folks," Brandon says, his face crinkling in a lopsided grin. "After
the accident, I think they were too embarrassed to be seen with me
in public." Only Brandon could make such a claim, without any hint
of resentment. In fact, his laughter following the comment is
genuine and we are left with the impression that he really does
find his parents' behavior amusing.

"At least they aren't crazy scientists,
putting you on display like some circus animal," Liz mutters with
much more animosity. It's only when speaking of her father, that I
ever hear Elizabeth express a negative thought or emotion. She is
careful to guard that part of her past, so it's unexpected when she
openly shares a memory of accompanying her dad to a Genetic
Symposium in France. "The event ended with us being escorted from
the building by undercover agents, after threats of violence by
some radical religious group," she tells us, smiling wryly.

"My parents had a lot of respect for your
dad," Alisha says quietly, gazing steadily at Elizabeth.

"Your parents had no idea the length my dad
was willing to go to create a genetically superior class of kids,"
Elizabeth says coldly.

"Your dad had good intentions. He was
horrified when he found out about the virus and worked day and
night to resolve the issue in humans."

We all hold our breath as the two appear to
continue the conversation silently, their facial expressions the
only indicator that the conversation is riddled with conflict.
Finally, Alisha abandons the conversation with Elizabeth and
surprises the rest of us with an unexpected announcement.

"I had a sister who was three years older
than me. Her name was Alexandra. She was born with a blood disorder
called Sickle Cell Disease. By the time she was two years old, she
had been hospitalized over a hundred and seventy days with
complications from the disease. Doctors didn't expect her to live
past her sixth birthday and advised my parents of such. I was
bioengineered for the sole purpose of gene therapy, something only
Dr. Kappel was willing to do. When Alexandra was five, she had a
bone marrow transplant using my bone marrow, which contained an
anti-sickling, human beta-hemoglobin gene. She lived completely
disease free and died as the result of a car accident on her
twenty-fifth birthday. She was my best friend and I miss her every
single day. Had it not been for Dr. Kappel, I never would have had
the chance to know her," she finishes quietly, dabbing the corner
of her eyes with her napkin.

It's a pivotal moment for the Designer
family. No one utters a sound as we consider Alisha's confession.
As far as I know, she's the only one of us created for a purpose
other than to satisfy the whims of our wealthy parents. It brings a
whole new dimension to the realm of genetic engineering that most
of us hadn't considered.

"Elizabeth, what do you know about your
father's death?" Bernie asks out of the blue, changing the subject
and surprising everyone except Cat and me with the question. I half
expected Bernie to bring the topic up to the others today if she
did indeed have a concern. Now I hold my breath as I listen to
their reaction.

"How do you know my father's dead?" Liz
challenges, her body immediately tensing up.

"It's my job to know everything I can about
the agents working for me," Bernie replies unapologetically.

"Then you should already know how he died,"
Liz says in an unusually confrontational way. Just like with Jason,
she maintains a certain level of caution when interacting with any
government official.

"See that's the problem. I really don't know
how your dad died. I know how and when your mom died, but your
dad's death certificate just listed natural causes. Sixty-year old
men with no prior health problems don't typically die of natural
causes, Liz. And, when my investigators tried to locate his
hospital records, there were none. When they tried to locate the
physician who signed the death certificate, they found out that he
didn't exist," Bernie says, carefully studying Elizabeth's
reaction. Elizabeth's puzzled expression matches the other
Designers. The only one besides Cat and me who seems unsurprised by
Bernie's inquiry is Michael.

"Bernie, what are you trying to say," Alisha
says softly.

Bernie leans back in her chair and closes
her eyes. "I did an extensive background search on everyone sitting
at this table. Of the six Designers, four of you have lost your
parents. Ronan, your parents were supposedly murdered, but when we
pulled the file from the homicide division, all we could find
regarding their case, was a suspicious house fire, some blood
stains on the bedroom and bathroom floor, and their abandoned car
off Highway87. Alisha, your parents both died while on a diving
expedition down in Mexico. Their death was listed as an accidental
drowning due to a malfunction of their scuba gear. Their bodies
were never recovered. Claire's parents, the same thing, mysterious
boating accident and bodies never recovered," she says, taking a
deep breath, then opening her eyes to glance at each of us.

"Do you think there's a connection between
all of their parents' deaths?" Jason asks, tilting his head
curiously. I see Cat suck in a deep breath out of the corner of my
eye and I place my hand over hers, feeling it tremble beneath
mine.

"I don't know what to think, Jason," she
warily replies holding her hands up in the air. "In undercover
work, we would say where there's smoke there's fire. There are a
lot of similarities between the events to chalk it up to
coincidence. I guess you could say I have a hunch about it and if I
were you, I would just be careful." She looks directly at Cat when
she says this and I instinctively put my arm protectively around
her shoulder.

"Bernie, there were years between our
parents deaths. Do you know what kind of an elaborate scheme
someone would have to come up with to pull off this type of
conspiracy?" Alisha questions.

"I know, but for someone who has knowledge
of your powers, what better to bargain with then beloved family
member," she replies.

I feel sick to my stomach at the thought.
Brandon cracks up laughing.

"It's no wonder they didn't feel the need to
snatch my parents," he says sarcastically.

Bernie ignores him. "I think if my
hypothesis is correct, it puts anyone close to you at risk," she
says, once again looking at Cat and me.

"Bernie, I'm already at risk because of
Claire. Don't you think if someone really wanted me, that they
would have gotten me by now," Cat says impatiently.

At the mention of Cat disappearing, Claire
slips out of her seat, walks around the table, and wordlessly
crawls up in her lap. Cat automatically wraps her arms around her
and the two exchange a brief conversation using sign language,
Claire's back-up mode for communicating when she's feeling anxious.
The worry on her face is enough to end the conversation.

"So Cat and Ronan have set a wedding date
for December 8th," Elizabeth announces, enthusiastically changing
the subject. She's been our single biggest supporter consulting
with Cat almost daily on something wedding related.

"So soon...?" Bernie asks, raising an
eyebrow.

"Why not, the quicker they get married, the
quicker they can head to divorce court," Alisha mumbles.

"Alisha!" Elizabeth gasps.

Even Jason appears stunned by her
comment.

"Relax everyone. I was just kidding. I'm
sorry," Alisha says defensively.

Nothing Alisha says really bothers me
anymore. I've conceded to the fact that she is going to blurt out
whatever comes to mind, regardless of whom it might hurt. There was
still part of me that trusted and admired her. I suspect she's just
one of those people with a good heart, just a hardened and rough
exterior hiding it.

"I asked Cat to move our date up prior to my
being deployed on undercover missions. I wanted her and Claire to
be financially taken care of in the event..."

"Don't say it," Cat warns me through gritted
teeth. We had a whopper of an argument when I tried to show her how
to gain access to my banking accounts. She wouldn't even consider
the idea that I might not come home from a dangerous assignment,
and argued when I insisted that she should have dual control over
my assets. It was my attorney who suggested moving the date of our
wedding up, citing that it would offer the simplest means of
transferring my wealth to her in the event of an accidental
death.

"I wanted the peace of mind," I simply
explain, not going in to further detail.

"Smart move," Bernie murmurs softly,
studying the two of us with interest.

CAT

Sometimes the nightmares seem so real that I
can feel myself drowning, right along with my parents and twin
brother Chord. The worst ones are when I helplessly stand by and
watch them all go overboard. My mom's screams and Chord's pleas for
help can be heard long after I awaken. It has been weeks since I've
experienced one this bad, and I was sure it was triggered by our
conversation with Bernie at Thanksgiving dinner.

From past experience, I know the odds of
going back to sleep after a dream like this, are not in my favor.
So, I carefully lift Ronan's arm off my waist, and slide my body
toward the edge of the bed. His faint rhythmic snoring reassures me
that he is sound asleep, but it wouldn't surprise me if he woke up
anyway. I sometimes wonder if he has a built in sensor that can
detect when I leave his side as sometimes he wakes up for no other
reason.

The bedroom is lit with just enough
moonlight that after my eyes adjust, I can see Ronan's features
with perfect clarity, and I stand over him enjoying the opportunity
to watch him undetected. There's no doubt that he is the most
exquisite man I have ever laid eyes on, but who would have believed
that someone like him would have an inner beauty to match the
outer.
My dad would have approved,
and my mom would have loved you,
I
silently admit to him.

Stirring, he reaches to the empty space next
to him, brushing his hand across the sheets where I had been
sleeping just moments before. His previously relaxed face becomes
tense and his brow furrows in a troubled expression. I gently run
my fingertips over his arm, waiting for him to return to a tranquil
state, before I turn to leave.

"Where do you think you're going young
lady?" he suddenly growls, playfully gripping my arm, and scaring
the shit out of me, as he pulls me back onto the bed.

"Ronan, you scared me," I gasp, falling into
his arms. "How do you know every single time?" I demand, once I
catch my breath.

He chuckles and rolls up on his side,
possessively draping a leg over my body so I can't easily move. "I
don't know," he says, becoming more serious. "I guess it's because
you are so much a part of me now. Sometimes I don't know where you
end and I begin. I mean, how do you know when I am with you
remotely?"

He has a good point. I can't really explain
it either, how I sense his presence when he's nowhere near me
physically.

"What are you doing up at this time of the
night anyway?" he asks, looking at the clock.

"Bad dream," I respond, without going into
details.

"Parents?" he says, guessing anyway.

"Yeah, the conversation with Bernie and the
upcoming wedding...I just miss them so much," I say, suddenly
choking up. He doesn't try to comfort me with words. Instead, he
pulls me even closer, his arms engulfing me, and the love radiating
from him, permeates my body, warming me from the inside out. In
spite of everything, I fall sound asleep, not waking up again until
I feel his body unexpectedly tense up.

"What's wrong?" I ask groggily.

"Something's going on with Alisha and
Elizabeth," he murmurs. He closes his eyes and wrinkles his brow, a
familiar indication that he is remote traveling and I silently wait
for him to finish.

"We better go see what's going on," he says,
reluctantly getting out of bed.

***

"You still need to ask me!" Elizabeth
shouts, glaring at Alisha.