When Chenille Is Not Enough
Chapter 9

Susan rolled her eyes, Cecily giggled, and Edna cackled so loud that Scott put his hand over his face, shook his head and said, “That’s the genteel woman I married.”

“But I can!” Bozidar insisted. “You should know - ”

The rest of his sentence couldn’t be heard over the laughter. Kyle and Gary loosened their grip on Bozidar’s shoulders, but he made no move to leave the chair. He folded his arms and pressed his lips together, causing more laughter to fill the room. Even Louise snickered.

“You are the most incomprehensible species,” he grumbled.

“And yet your species keeps coming here, and getting beaten,” Susan said. She motioned for the others to control themselves, but the giggles continued while she talked. “You can’t expect us to take you seriously when it’s obvious you don’t know us at all.”

“Ridicule me if you wish, but I can read that artifact. Can you?” he said, pointing to the quilt.

“Well, that would be a fine party trick,” Edna said, “seeing as how that’s only part of the original.”

“Yes, I know,” Bozidar said. “The edges are cut. The . . . words . . . are gone.”

“Words?” Cecily asked. She shifted away from her mother and stared at the quilt. “It’s the embroidery, isn’t it? I knew it! Didn’t I tell you she was trying to tell us something that she couldn’t say aloud?”

For the first time since appearing in the living room, Bozidar smiled. “Finally, you understand. She Who Found Us said she would record our story, and hoped to see the day when it could be revealed. But she warned us that day could be long in coming, and that if we returned we must take great care to come in secret.”

“At least you got that part right,” Edna said. “If the critters that came last year had been any more secretive, we’d all be lint under your feet by now.”

Bozidar’s face rippled, green smoke puffed from his ears and a strong scent of lavender filled the room. His shoulders quivered, and his hands each sprouted an extra digit. “Forgive us!” he wailed. “Forgive my clan! They broke the trust of She Who Found Us!”

Cecily shook her head. “You’re crying again.”

He sniffled, and wiped the various fluids dripping from his eyes and nose as the edges of his face settled into a human shape again. The green smoke dissipated, leaving a haze shimmering above his head like a halo.

Louise handed the gun to Scott and rummaged in the pocket of her jacket. She withdrew a packet of tissues and offered them to Bozidar. “I think we should listen - quietly - to his story,” she said. “Kyle, Gary, make yourselves comfortable. You aren’t going to run, are you, Bozidar? You want to tell us about yourself, don’t you?”

Bozidar nodded, and the tears on his cheeks flew off in odd directions. He took a tissue from the packet, grasped it by a corner and held it to his forehead.

Kyle tapped him on the arm. “Uh, no, that isn’t the way they work. Watch,” he said. He took a tissue, swept it across his eyes, folded it and blew his nose.

“Thank you,” Bozidar said as he imitated Kyle’s actions. “Oh, that is more comfortable.” He folded the damp tissue and scanned the room. “Where is the disposal vent?”

Gary left and returned with a trash can. When Bozidar felt around the rim of the can, Gary said, “Just drop it in the can. We’ll take care of it later.”

Bozidar nodded and released the tissue. “Let me tell you the story of She Who Found Us as I learned it when I was a mere blobling.”

“Hold on,” Edna said, both hands raised. “If you’re talking about my grandmother, use her name. It’s Agnes.”

Bozidar gasped. “Her name is sacred in our clan.”

“It’s pretty special to me, too, but you won’t be struck by lightning if you say it,” Edna said.

He gulped. “Very well. In the long ago, when the sky was still the color of unripe fruit and the cool breezes soothed the scampering things in the forest - ”

“Cut to the chase, space boy. I never liked long introductions when I was a kid, and I’m not going to put up with them now,” Edna said.

“Dear, I believe Louise promised that we would listen quietly,” Scott murmured. He turned to Bozidar. “You might want to focus on the events. We don’t need all the background.”

Bozidar began again. “My clan roams the stars. Sometimes the stars don’t like it, and things happen to our ships.”

“You crash?” Cecily asked.

“Yes,” Bozidar said. “We learned to disguise ourselves so we wouldn’t be noticed when our travels took us to less advanced societies. We observed, took samples, and returned home, leaving no trace to alarm the native populations.”

“That isn’t what you did last year,” Edna said.

Cecily said, “Wait, you make it sound like you were on all these expeditions.”

“Again, Louise promised we would listen quietly,” Scott said.

Susan stood. She folded her arms and cleared her throat. “How does the quilt fit in with the clan’s stories?”

Bozidar looked into her eyes, then pointed to the quilt. “The section with the yellow circle tells of the day my cousins arrived. They were distant cousins. Our life span is only a little longer than your own, so no, I was not with them. This is my first exploration, and my last if I am fortunate.”

He stared at Edna, Cecily and Susan in turn. Cecily looked away. Edna pressed her lips together but did not avert her gaze. Susan nodded, then waved her hand for him to continue.

Bozidar folded his hands in his lap. “The ship was damaged. Badly. The leader had no choice but to find a place to land. She searched for a spot not yet touched by the sun, but saw only water. Finally, as the last engine lost power, they crossed the remainder of the ocean and found the city we later learned was called San Francisco. The crew used the transport pods to reach the safety of land, but some of them malfunctioned. Many of the clan died. Those who lived found refuge in a structure filled with goods for trade, including large sacks that resembled us. My people were injured, and had only enough energy for a simple disguise, so they transformed into sacks and hoped they would be left in peace until they could regroup, repair the ship, and leave.”

He held the quilt close, his eyes closed, his breathing smooth. Edna cleared her throat, and he smoothed the quilt on the coffee table.

“Look here,” he said, indicating a square with three white velvet rectangles framed with blue embroidered flowers. “This part tells how they were picked up by strong men and thrown onto a rough wooden cart. The men were preparing to leave, but someone called to them. As they left the cart, a young girl approached. She recognized something was different about some of the sacks. The leader found a way to communicate with the girl, and asked for help.”

He traced the outline of the embroidery with one finger. He closed his eyes and sighed. “The next part of the story is missing from your quilt. It is always difficult for me to hear it. I . . . ” He paused, then squared his shoulders. “Not all of my clan had been loaded on the cart. The girl covered those that were left on the floor with a blanket. It turned out to be poisonous. She removed it as soon as she smelled the pain it caused, but one clan member was too weak to endure. The girl suffered great guilt, and vowed to protect those who yet lived.”

Cecily, brow furrowed and fingers clasped under her chin, leaned toward the quilt. “You can read all that from those few lines of embroidery?”

“It is our poetry,” he said. “Much meaning condensed into a few symbols.” He pointed to a green satin square divided by a white ribbon with cross-stitched patterns. “This tells how she kept the cart from being taken away until all the clan found hiding places. The leader helped her by befuddling the men loading the cart.”

“I suspected your people altered our perceptions,” Susan said. She turned to Louise. “You joked about the bolts hiding themselves.”

“Turns out I was right,” Louise said. “But why didn’t they do that when the men first started loading them?”

Bozidar shrugged. “They were injured. They had enough energy to maintain their disguise, but not enough to influence the thoughts of every human around them. She Who, I mean, Agnes, created a diversion and allowed them to escape. She found a safe place for them to hide, and helped them as they repaired their ship.”

“How?” Edna asked.

Bozidar sighed. “I could recite the whole story for you, but I cannot condense it.”

Edna glared at him. “Fine,” she said at last, “don’t tell me. That poisonous blanket - that wouldn’t have been chenille, would it?”

He nodded. “In all the universe there is only one other thing that harms us as much as the machute plant, and that is your chenille.”

Louise shook her head and wagged her finger at him. “I hit you full in the face with that chenille pillow, and it didn’t do a thing to you.”

He shrank back in the chair, a shudder quaking through his entire body. “I assure you, it affected me.” He took several deep breaths before the trembling stopped. “Our scientists have been searching for an antidote to the machute plant. They made a significant breakthrough when the survivors of this trip returned, as the symptoms of machute poisoning are similar to chenille poisoning.”

“You’re the test subject for the antidote?” Kyle asked.

Bozidar jerked his shoulders back. “How did you guess?”

“Your clan wouldn’t have died if you had a viable cure, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t have been sent here until the researchers had come up with something they hoped would work.”

Louise cleared her throat. “Admirable deduction, dear, but let’s get back to the problem at hand. You can grill him on the experiments later.” She turned to Bozidar. “So chenille still affects you, but not as much?”

Bozidar nodded as he inched back.

Susan peered at the quilt. She twisted a lock of her hair between two fingers. “Here’s what’s bothering me,” she said. “Your clan crashed here, lost some of the crew, discovered there were deadly toxins - why come back?”

Edna leaned forward. “And why after ignoring us for so long?”

Bozidar’s skin flushed a pale magenta. A few wisps of green smoke escaped from his ears and curled down his cheeks like ribbons on a birthday present. “We were not ignoring you. My clan promised Agnes that we would not return until the time was right, until your people reached out to us. Or at least to the neighboring planets. We monitored you, studied you, waited for you. When you landed on your moon, we thought the time would soon come when we could repay Agnes by bringing you to the stars. But you stopped there.”

“Your people weren’t trying to bring us to the stars,” Susan said.

“That’s right,” Louise said. “That was an invasion.”

Bozidar dropped his head. “I deeply regret to say that . . . .” His voice trailed to nothingness, and he kept his eyes fixed on the carpet between his feet. “Politics on my planet can be as unpleasant as on yours,” he whispered. “When the people do not value intelligence, the leaders grow weak. Then no star is far enough for safety.”

“If you think you’re surrounded by idiots, join the club. We’ve got matching shoes and tote bags,” Edna said. “You want to talk about stupid people, we’ve elected dogs.”

“Mom, I know you don’t like the governor but let’s keep to the crisis at hand,” Susan said.

“Who’s talking about the governor? Sunol elected a dog as mayor.”

Louise patted Edna’s shoulder. “That was for publicity, Edna. Giving the town quirky local color brings in the tourists.”

“Whatever.” Edna approached Bozidar, sticking her finger in his face. “Okay, space boy, you’ve told your story.” She stared down at him, her lips tight. “And it’s the best story I’ve heard in years!” She pushed the coffee table away, grabbed his hands, yanked him to his feet and threw her arms around his waist.

Bozidar squealed like a child chasing a runaway balloon as Edna squeezed him. A burst of lavender swirled around him. His brown curls sprang to attention, and a wispy beard sprouted from the center of his chin.

“Mother!” Susan shouted.

“Edna!” Scott commanded as he leaped from his chair. He peeled her arms from Bozidar and separated the two. “We need him alive, dear. The interrogation isn’t over yet.”

Bozidar slumped into the chair, slid to the floor and curled into a ball. His brown suit took on the shiny cast of a city street after the first rain. Edna pushed Scott’s hands away and knelt beside the quaking body. She grabbed Bozidar’s elbow and shook it. He moaned, and curled tighter.

“You don’t understand, you’re forgiven,” Edna said.

Susan and Cecily traded glances. Susan’s eyes glinted and her breathing became rapid. A low growl rumbled in her throat as her exhalations took on a snorting sound. Cecily’s expression morphed from amazement to fear.

Susan closed her eyes and counted softly, but aloud, to five. “Mother,” she said as she opened her eyes, “I believe I was the target, so if anyone is going to forgive our would-be assassin, it should be me.”

Edna twisted away and gulped. “Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Susan kept her voice soft, low, controlled. “A strange man - a very strange man, an alien - comes to kill your daughter, and you say ‘oh’?”

Cecily crept to her mother and tugged on her skirt. “Mom, he said he wouldn’t try to kill you anymore. I believe him.”

“Oh?” Susan asked. Her voice was controlled but sharper, like a thousand icicles cracking along the eaves.

Cecily scooted toward Edna. “I didn’t believe him when we first came back, but I do now. I mean, look at him. He seems sincere.”

Gary reached for Susan’s hand. “Honey, let’s sit on the couch, okay?” He looked at Scott, then at Bozidar and Edna, then back at Scott.

As Gary settled Susan on the couch, Scott motioned to Edna to help him lift Bozidar. Together they shoveled him back into the chair. Edna picked up the tissue package and pulled out a wad. She wiped Bozidar’s nose, then his face. The whiskers on his chin came off on the tissues.

“You’re falling apart here, space boy,” she said as she scanned the room for the trash can. Kyle retrieved it from the corner. She tossed the tissues and said, “The other aliens fell apart when they got hit with chenille. Then they died. Don’t die.”

Bozidar mashed his spiky hair into his scalp. “Your concern is touching,” he said.

“Is that sarcasm?” Edna asked. “Sarcasm is good. It means you won’t die yet.”

She picked up the quilt and ran her hand over the soft velvets, and traced a line of embroidered chevrons on a pink satin trapezoid. Hugging the fragment of her history, she returned to her chair. She smiled at Susan and said, “I’m sorry, my darling daughter.”

Susan jerked, prompting Gary to put his arms around her. She patted his hand. “I’m not about to attack anyone. But my mother has never apologized to me in my life. It’s a shock.”

“Well, get used to it,” Edna said. “There are more to come. The first is that I’ve known about space aliens since I was a kid.”

“Then why did you kill my cousins?” Bozidar sputtered. “None of this would have happened if you had told them who you are when they made their presence known.”

“It’s more complicated than you might think,” Edna said. She scanned the eyeballs staring at her. “My grandmother told me about the talking flour sacks. I thought they were just bedtime stories, adventures she made up to give me something interesting to dream about.”

She stopped speaking. Her eyes drifted beyond the faces turned to her, and the quilt slipped from her grasp. She shook her head and snatched the treasure before it tumbled to the floor.

“No, that’s not how it happened,” she said. “I thought the stories were real. My parents told me they weren’t.”

Bozidar reached for the quilt. “Let me see that.” He stuck his finger between the top and the backing, wiggling it between the stitches. “I understand now. There is a piece of my ancestors left here.”

He rolled his finger around the gap. Another tear slid along his lower lashes and splashed to his cheek, then his coat. A hint of green smoke curled out from his ears, carrying a whiff of lavender with it. The scent was sweet but heavy, as if all the lavender plants in the world had gathered to mourn.

Edna snatched the quilt from his hand. “What do you mean? How can your ancestors be here in the quilt?”

“The soft fabrics, the colored ones, they are sewn to what was left of our leader,” Bozidar said. “The old legends say she remained on the planet as a beacon for our people. There is even a prophecy that when the moment was right, she would reunite our clan with She Who Found Us.”

Kyle cleared his throat. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He looked at his mother. “Even Dad wouldn’t buy that story, and he’s a minister. He’s been trained to believe in miraculous tales.”

“Whether the story makes sense or not, it has worked out,” Louise said. “The other aliens all congregated at Susan’s shop, didn’t they?”

“He knows what happened to the others. He could be making up prophecy to fit history.” Kyle turned to Susan. “I would like more proof. After all, he did kidnap Cecily.”

Susan chewed her lower lip. She looked at Cecily, then Edna, then Gary. “He could be telling the truth.”

“Is that a question?” Gary asked.

Susan’s eyes grew wide. “No,” she said, in a voice that sounded as surprised as she looked.

Bozidar put both hands on his chest and bowed to Susan. “Your trust is more than I deserve.”

“I didn’t say I trust you,” Susan said. She stood, her eyes darting between Bozidar and Edna. She held out her hand. “Let me see that quilt.”

Susan placed her fingertip in the gap that Bozidar had opened. She wiggled it back and forth, rubbing against the foundation of the velvet patch.

“What do you sense?” Bozidar asked.

Susan jerked her head in his direction. The room jiggled around her. Why am I dizzy, she thought. Her knees felt as if the joints had been replaced with pudding.

“Don’t fight the vision,” Bozidar said. “Let the quilt give you the proof you need.”

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