“Anne, come out here, quick!”
The redheaded woman was so startled by the appearance of her husband’s face in the kitchen window that she dropped the dish back into the soapy water. She grabbed a towel to dry her hands and face and walked out onto the rear deck to see what was so urgent. The night was clear and bright, each little star shone like a diamond.
“See? There, over the hill!” Just able to make out her husbands silhouette in the darkness, Anne joined him and followed his pointing finger, directed at something just shy of infinity.
“The comet, John? Really, you’d think that I’d never seen one before!” Anne leaned against the taller form of her spouse and rested an arm around his waist. Far off on the horizon was a smear of celestial matter; barely visible as the sun, shining from around the globe, illuminated its tail.
“It’s the same one that we’ve been watching at the center for months.” He turned to face her. “We’ve seen that thing from the front, the back, upside down, inside out, and every which way but loose… but only from the business ends of deep radar and telescopes.” He returned his wife’s light embrace and sighed.
“I could give you the molecular composition and spectrum-analysis readings backwards and forwards, but I’ve never just looked at it like this until tonight.”
“It’s beautiful, John.” She reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“And I love you… whoa!” They were both caught off guard as the galactic wanderer brilliantly flashed like a strobe.
“John? What was that?”
“It may have broken up, stress fractures might have been cleaved by exposure to tides from the Earth or the Sun!” Anne heard the familiar excitement in his voice as he released her and turned to run back into the house, but then he stopped.
“I… I will have to call the center, but nothing that’s been traveling around out there is nearly as important to me as you are.” John drew his wife tight to him and whispered into her ear.
“Make a wish.”
“But, that’s for stars, darling!”
“I don’t care. We’ve been hoping for so long, how can it hurt?” His eyes gazed down into hers and he kissed her forehead.
“Then you know what I’ll wish for. “ Anne closed her eyes and wished for that which they’d both been wanting since they were married. “I wish…”
Several more peaceful minutes were spend on that deck as they watched the comet continue it’s trek across the stars, leaving a few passing kisses behind for our planet.
“Will any of them hit near here?”
“Hmm? Near Middleton? No, dearest, they’ll likely impact several hundred miles away, that’s if they don’t burn up in the atmosphere first.”
“Gee, so much for ‘Captain Romance’! Go ahead, make your phone call!” Anne grinned and pushed her husband towards the house. One last kiss, and they returned to their usual routines. Later that evening, clear across the country, in one of the bedroom communities surrounding a large mid-western city, tragedy struck from the sky.
It was three days later when John Possible returned home from the space center and fuel propulsion laboratory with a pained look on his face. Anne was used to his quiet ways, but this was unusual; he practically avoided her as he entered the house and walked into his study. She had been home from the hospital for several hours and was preparing their evening meal, and John usually took a few minutes to unwind first, but she decided to see if anything was wrong.
John was in his chair behind his desk, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. All of his artifacts to the gods of technology were turned off and quiet; Anne had never been in this room when there wasn’t some program running or calculation being automatically tabulated. Never a man to ignore the presence of his loving wife, he turned his chair to meet her gaze.
He held out his hand and beckoned her to the chair; he placed her in his lap, not a usual act for them. Anne was shocked and slightly frightened to see that he had been crying.
“John! What’s the matter?” He didn’t reply with words, but handed her a scrap of newsprint from the briefcase sitting open on the desk. He let her take it and she scanned the text of the story.
“Meteor strike… residential area… family of seven, parents and five children… one survivor, a three year old girl… Oh, no, John, not the comet?” Sadness laced her voice.
“Yes, the comet. A fragment impacted in the backyard of the family’s home, apparently vaporized a tree with a tree house in it, knocked the house flat and started a fire that killed anyone not already dead.” John raised one hand and placed it over his eyes.
“After our wish…”
Anne set down the piece of paper and removed the hand from her husband’s face.
“Oh, no you don’t, John Possible! We are not responsible for what happened here. You just erase that thought from your head right now, mister!”
“I know that… it’s just so tragic and after our wish I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s all connected somehow.” He looked up into her eyes, searching for what? Understanding? Forgiveness?
“Well, if you want to feel guilt over this, blame me.”
“You?”
“I made the wish, didn’t I? Maybe my wish dragged an enormous chuck of ice and rock thousands of miles closer to the planet and made it fragment and kill those poor people!” Anne knew how he felt, but they would never, EVER want to gain their heart’s desire in exchange for this terrible event.
“Honey, that’s foolish!”
“Doy!” Anne rapped him firmly on the head. “And since I know that your PhDs didn’t come out of a box of ‘Cracker Jacks’, I’m glad you finally realized that yourself!” Anne lifted herself from her spouses lap and walked out of the room, calling back to him over her shoulder as she did so. “Come to dinner when you’re ready.”
John sat there for several more minutes before he left the study to embrace his wife in a long impassioned kiss.
The idea might have planted itself in Anne’s mind that day when John returned home so saddened, she never could recall when it first came to her. Nevertheless, it was just over a month later when she asked her husband if he was aware of the condition of the surviving daughter. They were sharing a peaceful breakfast and Anne sensed that this was as good time as any to broach the subject.
“Why, yes, I do know.” John suppressed a pang of guilt over having been reading the follow-up news stories about the little girl. “Apparently she’s Ok, aside from an odd epidermal pigment reaction.”
“Is she with relatives?”
“Unfortunately, no. It seems that there aren’t any other family members and she’s been a ward of the state since that day. She spent a few days in a local hospital for observation and treatment of minor abrasions, but otherwise, she’d supposedly healthy.”
“Been keeping track, huh?” Anne mocked her husband, just a little.
“Hm, well, yes.” His jaw set in feigned anger. “You seem awfully curious.”
“There have been a few reports in some of the specialist journals that we get at the hospital, but nothing explicit about her situation, other than her skin condition.”
John set aside his coffee.
“Anne, why are we talking about this?” For a brilliant man, her husband could be a little slow.
“Remember what you said that afternoon in the study, about our wish?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What if we look at events from a different perspective? What if our wish was a direct result of the tragedy?”
“What are you saying?”
“John, we’ve been trying to have a child for years now. I think that with a few doctorates between us we’re smart enough to realize that it’s not likely to happen.” Anne hated to see the sorrow that briefly flashed across John’s face; they dearly wanted a child of their own.
“She doesn’t have anybody left to love her, to care for her.” Anne returned to John’s lap for the first time in weeks and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Do you have any idea how difficult what you’re proposing will be?” John might have been posing for a spot on Mt. Rushmore, his face was so stoic and his back so straight. Anne felt herself wither slightly; why would John resist this idea?
“No, I really don’t.”
“Well, I do.” Holding her tight with one arm, he reached into his briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers from both the state run facility where the little girl had been staying and the state government itself.
“I had these faxed to me a few days ago; there would be a few interviews and we’d have to wait while a review board looks over our petition, but otherwise I’ve been assured that our chances are pretty high.”
Anne was too stunned to speak; eventually she didn’t even try. She locked her mouth around that of her husband’s and they let their breakfast get cold.
Three weeks later, John and Anne Possible were driving to meet the little girl that would likely become their daughter. Though the review process was almost complete, the state demanded that there be a supervised interaction between prospective parents and child. While neither felt the least bit of regret over their decision, there was a bit of anxiety over how the meeting might go.
“Oh, John, what if she hates me?” Anne hadn’t been this nervous since she’d taken her medical exams.
“She’ll love you, it’s me that she’ll hate.” John grinned at his wife, but more to mask his own feelings of trepidation. “Relax, this isn’t an easy process for any of us, especially her. We’ll take things slow and easy.”
The facility was clean and neat and there were signs of happy, healthy children everywhere. While the traditional concept of an ‘orphanage’ might bring negative images to some people, the primary function of this place was to look after children who had been removed from their homes for their own safety, usually just until a relative came to take over the care the child. It was unusual for any child to remain here for too long. The director was a kindly woman who asked to speak alone with them before bringing the young girl in.
“Her parents were good people who looked towards the future as far as their children were concerned; she attended a good day care center and tested quite high for intelligence and aptitude.”
“My wife and I are glad to hear that, but we just want to give her a good home, regardless of how bright she is.”
“Of course. You and your wife hold impressive credentials, so I’m certain that she’ll benefit from an excellent education. There will be a trust held for her when she enters college; it’s her inheritance from her deceased parents.” Though there were just the three of them in the room, the director leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“My point is that she’d suffered the sudden loss of her father, her mother, and her four brothers; this could stunt the development of any child, no matter how smart. I beg that you be patient with her.”
Anne spoke up for the first time since their initial introductions.
“Certainly. John and I will do all we can to make her happy.”
“Very good!” The older woman beamed at them. “And now, one last thing; you’re aware of her skin condition?”
“Yes, at least in that we know her skin color is very pale.” The older woman nodded at this.
“Pale, almost dead white with a greenish cast to it, to be precise. And her black hair has green highlights when the light hits it. Ironically, she already had the most beautiful set of emerald green eyes. The skin itself isn’t damaged and her general health was unaffected, though since it is a type of induced albinism, she does have a few special dietary requirements.”
John and Anne shared a look.
“If it’s all the same, we’ve known all this since our correspondence weeks ago. Can we please meet her now?”
“Of course. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll have her bought in.” The director relaxed; these seemed to be the right people to care for her charge. She stood and smiled at them, moving to the doorway and speaking to her assistance outside.
“Please have Sheila Gordon brought down.”
There was a short wait before a gentle knock was heard and the assistant escorted a small girl into the room. Regardless of the newspaper report weeks ago, Sheila Gordon was not quite three years old, and rather chubby for her age. Her plump little arms and legs were dressed in a simple blue dress and her angel face was framed by the fullest head of black hair that either Possible had ever seen for a child that young.
The angel face had a haunted look, however, and downcast eyes. The director held back, motioning to the Possibles that they should introduce themselves without being too assertive. John went first by simply sitting down on the floor.
“Hello, Sheila, my name is John.”
“SHEGO!” The tiny girl pierced him with glaring eyes, chubby fingers balled into fists. The Possibles didn’t react except for two expectant looks at the director.
“Apparently that’s all she was ever called at home; most likely it was based on her earliest attempts to say her own name.” Nodding, John held out his hand to the girl.
“Will you shake my hand? Can we be friends?” The little girl looked back to the director for assurance, which was quickly given. Shego didn’t move any closer, but she did raise her arm as if to take his proffered hand. She stopped as soon as her eyes caught the sight of her pale green skin.
The tiny arm was shaken as if to cast off the offending color, and the little girls face grew more and more agitated, a whine building in the back of her throat. Shaking her head from side to side, Sheila Gordon threw up her hands and began to run around the room, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
When she eventually slowed down, she noticed Anne sitting on the floor also.
“My, but don’t you have the prettiest hair!”
Shego glowered at the woman; little fists were held tight against her side, mouth pinched in an angry frown. Anne didn’t waiver, but instead removed her jacket and rolled up the sleeve of her blouse past her elbow.
“I have a boo-boo, right here.” Anne pointed to a spot above her elbow, the skin was indented in the form of a very old, badly healed childhood scar.
“Do you have a boo-boo?” This served to distract the child from her unfocused anger and she slowly nodded her head.
She raised her arms and opened her fingers, displaying the pale skin that she awoke with one morning in the hospital weeks ago when a loud noise from the sky took her family away. Anne held out her hands and Shego edged closer, eventually taking them in hers. Anne made a show of marveling over Shego’s black tresses and she let the little girl run chubby fingers through her own red hair.
Anne risked everything by pulling the little girl into her lap, but waited for a reaction before daring to hold the child. Shego didn’t resist, but didn’t relax either. Anne looked up at the director, who was wiping a tear from her eyes. The older woman bent down and looked at Shego.
“Sweetheart, would you like to take your nap now?”
Shego nodded, but reached down to tug at one of Anne’s arms, lifting it and draping it across her legs. Anne was glad that the little girl couldn’t see her face because right now she was crying and John was doing his best not to show any emotions that could be misinterpreted.
“Can we tuck her into bed?” The man knew that this might not be permitted.
“Yes, but only due to her special circumstances.” Seeing their questioning looks, the director clarified, “I’ll explain later.”
Lifting the little girl to her feet, Shego was led back upstairs to her room; they asked Shego to show them her bed so that they could let her take the lead and show them where she slept. One of the caregiver’s undressed the little girl while the Possible’s stood to one side.
“The other children avoided her after awhile, simply due to her skin color. She seemed eager enough to play and interact with them, but since they’re all strangers and she misses her brothers, well, she’s been alone.” The director gestured around them at the small but private room with its bed and toys.
“We gave her this special place all to herself, but she desperately needs a family.”
“Oh, John, she’s perfect, can we please…” her voice broke and she glanced back to the little bed where a tiny girl was watching them. Anne held her husband tight.
“I think that we’re sticking to our decision. How do we proceed?” John returned his wife’s embrace. The director smiled and took them back downstairs, but not until after Shego received a tender kiss from her new parents.