Caeli Widger - Mother of Invention

Viv was getting stronger by the day. Yesterday she’d insisted they rent bikes, one with a child seat on the handlebars for Petra, and pedal the full length of an eight-mile path along the coast, the sea spangling beside them, moist salt air on their faces. It had been a glorious day, and Petra was endlessly delighted, pointing and giggling the whole of the ride. But the best part about it, for Tessa, had been watching Viv ride her bike with relish, hardly winded, the muscles of her thighs and calves visible as she pedaled.

REVERSA, Tessa’s new project, was still in the early phases of development, still classified as experimental. The treatment involved stepping into an insulated stainless steel chamber and being misted for twenty minutes with a proprietary liquid formula developed at Seahorse Labs. The objective of the mist was to restore youth and vitality. It would be targeted to the general public, but Tessa’s private mission was to make sure every child of accelerated gestation gained free access to it.

So far, REVERSA was working on the nine subjects who’d agreed to try it: Viv and a handful of other natural AG young adults who’d responded to the call for volunteers. The group had been receiving the treatment twice daily over several months. Six were presenting evidence of positive effects: more energy and stamina, increased muscle tone, even higher bone density. Their wrinkles and sun spots weren’t disappearing, but they weren’t proliferating, either.

Amazing, Tessa thought, what Luke Zimmerman could accomplish when he was truly motivated. When he was enlightened with just a few items of information: for example, that Tessa happened to know what he’d taken from Config, because an acquaintance of hers—an agent in the ISA, in fact—had confided in her. But not to worry, Tessa told Luke. The Feds would leave him alone, as long as he agreed to the cease-and-desist order her lawyers were sending him. A notice prohibiting future applications of Targeted Embryonic Acceleration Technology. Per the order, she’d told Luke calmly, the TEAT component of the Seahorse Solution would be eliminated immediately. This would free Luke up to work on other projects. New and exciting innovations.

As she’d spoken, Luke sat at his desk and spun his fidget, flicking it to a faster and faster spin. He’d dropped his feet from the desktop to the floor and tapped them on the polished concrete. He’d swiped his hair out of his face with his pinky and index finger, several times.

Tessa informed him that Seahorse Solutions would be fast-tracking a new project immediately: REVERSA. For this, she’d need Luke to provide capital. Angel funding, unlimited amounts. The project would be expensive; Tessa could not be fettered by cost.

Luke nodded slowly, his eyes latched to the spinning green plastic on his desk. He refused to look at Tessa. But he was listening.

Within weeks, he’d gotten the REVERSA team up and running.

The sun was high in the sky; it was almost noon. Soon, Tessa thought, they’d need to get back to the house so she could give Viv her midday REVERSA treatment, then put both the baby and her friend down for their naps. Viv was getting stronger by the day, but still needed her rest.

“Shall we head inside?” she said to Viv, who was bouncing Petra on her lap.

“Not quite yet,” said Viv. “Petra’s so happy.”

“Okay. Tell me when you get tired.”

“I’m sitting down in the sunshine,” said Viv. “I’m not going to get tired.”

“I’m going for a quick swim, then.”

The ocean was cold, but Tessa didn’t mind. She headed straight out into the surf, and when it reached her thighs, she dove under a wave and swam. She stroked and breathed, stroked and breathed, her skin numbing against the water, which felt both plush and bracing. Her swimming had improved a great deal; it had been her favorite activity when she was pregnant. Peter would be proud; she’d come a long way in the water since she’d flailed in a half panic against the frigid shallows of San Francisco Bay, unable to banish her childish thoughts of monsters lurking below.

She no longer feared swimming in the ocean.

Back on shore, she found Petra and Viv dozing together on a chaise. Tessa spread a blanket in the sand and lay down on it, closing her eyes and listening to the waves. The beach had been empty all morning, not a soul but for the three of them. As she reclined with her eyes shut, though, she began to sense a presence. As if she could hear footsteps in the sand.

She opened her eyes and looked behind her, steered by a feeling.

From the line of palm trees at the periphery of the sand, a man was descending onto the beach. Medium height, muscular, his gate quick and sure. Face largely concealed by a thick brown-red beard and mustache, plus sunglasses. Headed straight toward them. Hurrying, really. Tessa swung her legs off her chaise and planted her feet in the sand, sitting up straight. Motherhood had equipped her with an instinctive vigilance, a readiness to spring at any moment in defense of her baby. Or of Vivian, who was still weak, despite steady improvements from the REVERSA. The man looked ordinary, but his gait was oddly deliberate.

Who would be beelining toward them on this pristine beach?

She stood up.

Viv opened her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” said Tessa.

The man drew closer: twenty yards or so.

Tessa reached for Petra. “Let me take her.”

In Tessa’s arms, the baby woke with a wobbly cry.

“Shhh, sweetie,” said Tessa. “Shhhh.” She bounced Petra on one hip, clutching her tightly as the approaching stranger broke into a jog, closing the remaining gap between them.

“Hello there,” Tessa called out.

The man arrived at their chaises and stopped right in front of Viv’s, as if she’d been the finish line. He placed his hands on his knees to catch his breath, and Tessa stepped toward him, her protective reflexes now extending to Viv. When he straightened and faced Tessa, she could see the scar lines etched just above his beard.

No one spoke. Even Petra fell silent.

“Howdy,” said the man, finally.

“You came,” Viv said.

“I’m here,” he said.

Tessa watched as her baby extended her plump arms up toward the man, the stranger, reaching for him on instinct, full of trust and wonder.

Wild thanks to:

Susan Golomb, for making this happen when I’d almost accepted it wouldn’t.

Carmen Johnson, for never wavering from this project and seeing exactly what it needed to be.

Kelli Martin, for her wise eagle eye.

Lucy Silag, for bringing this book to the world.

Kris Widger—my husband, my ally, my defender, my love. Without your boundless patience I could not have seen this through.

My children, Townes, Kirby, and Cassidy—lights of my life, sparkers of joy, crafters of so many motivational notes, chanters of Mama, write like the wind when I needed it most.

My mother, Cathy Schwarzkopf Wolfson, a.k.a. Moopy—for taking care of my children while I wrote this book, and adoring me no matter what.

My friends, who saw me through this madness, end to end. My bestie and literary kindred spirit, Julia Fierro. My great commiserater, Justin Feinstein; my favorite brunchers, Katherine Satorius and Amy Bourne; my fellow ninja, Claire Bidwell Smith. My earliest editor, Linda Larson. I love you all to the moon.

Rebecca and Jonathan Benefiel Bijur, for my title.

The Wolfson men—Gary, Gregory, Jonathan, and Justin—for always being ready to listen, read another draft, take my side, and crack me up.