But as he walked up the path, he smelled something frying. That hadn’t been in his plans. He was trying to make sense of this as they rounded the turn through the woods into the meadow where the junction was built. That was when he saw a tent. No, not just one. Four of them, one almost large enough to be a pavilion, and three that could sleep a small army.
He stared at them in confusion. “What is going on?”
There was no time for anyone to answer because people started pouring out into the sunshine. The first man out was his youngest brother, Adrian. Grayson let out a shocked noise. Then his cousin Aaron, his father, Adrian’s wife, Camilla, more cousins, uncles, aunts, nieces. So many people from his father’s side of the family had all come out. At the end came his mother. Their eyes met over the crowd.
Ever since he’d seen that first flash of resentment in her eyes, Grayson had been contemplating his plan. He was going to make it up to her. He was going to set things right by building this impossible transpacific memorial and…and…
And…
And he’d just done it. He’d held on to hope for years because he refused to surrender. Now he felt his hope crack in pieces on the unyielding certainty of reality. What the hell had he been thinking? How was this supposed to work? What was he supposed to do? Say, “By the way, Mama, I know your other boys are gone, but I made you this telegraph line?”
What kind of compensation was that? What was she supposed to do with an insulated mess of submarine copper?
She made her way to him. She was smiling, holding out her hands to him. “Congratulations!”
“Mama.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Well.” Her warm tone grew just a bit frostier. “My son seemed to be avoiding me. I figured I would have to come directly to you instead of waiting for the reverse.”
“Mama.”
“You’re lucky your father and I didn’t take a ship to Hong Kong after what you pulled in April. I wanted to, but we weren’t even sure where you would be. Asia is a large continent.”
He let out a careful breath. “Mama.” What was there to say? “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Say you’re sorry by visiting more often. But for now, stop giving me that hang dog look.” She warmed up, lecture finished. “Look what you’ve done. I’m so proud of you, Gray.”
It took hours for Grayson to be able to slink off alone. The little building holding the junction was cold. He could hear the click of the galvanometer, already moving, as the flood of international telegrams had already started.
He waited until the line was free before signaling that he had something to say.
T74S…
But what was he to transmit to Amelia after all? Why aren’t you here? I need you desperately. This didn’t fix anything.
None of the codes they’d come up with would do.
He eventually went with 602G. The old standby. He sat in the cold and the dark, with the sounds of celebration behind him.
To his surprise, she answered immediately, meaning she was still in Hong Kong.
T1S How did everything turn out? A
Perhaps she’d gone to Hong Kong to await the news in person. To celebrate at the same time as him, whatever time it was there. He shut his eyes. How had everything turned out?
T74S Megalodons far off still. G
There was no more opportunity to speak; commercial transactions took priority, and the Seattle operator took the line back immediately. The galvanometer clicked away with a merry chatter. Just as well. What would he say to her? Somehow, he was supposed to figure out how to be happy? It seemed further away than ever.
The door creaked behind him and he turned. “Grayson?”
“Mama.” Grayson shut his eyes. Of all the people. He didn’t know how to talk to his mother.
“Grayson?” she queried again. She looked tiny in the moonlight, the darkness blurring the lines on her face. She looked young this way, too young to have had five sons and lost three.
“What are you doing all the way out here?”
“What it looks like. I’m sending a message.” He didn’t say anything more. Neither did his mother. They stayed there like that, she stood and watched him as he sat at the transmitter. He couldn’t give up. He had to fix this.
“Are you waiting for a reply?” she asked.
“She’s already replied.”
“She?” His mother came to sit next to him, looking at him with expectation.
God. There was so much he wanted to tell her. He didn’t even know where to start. She felt as distant standing next to him as when he’d been on the other side of the world.
“My vice president of telegraphic encoding.” He swallowed. “She’s responsible for the Chinese telegraphic code.”
His mother shook her head. “You’re always thinking about your work.”
There was nothing he knew how to say to that. Nothing except the truth. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so, so sorry.”
“For not coming back in April?” She exhaled. “Grayson… Well. Apology accepted. Just don’t do it again.”
“I’m sorry for so much more than that.” His grief felt so raw. So present. He was drowning in it. “I’m sorry it was only me who completed the line. I’m sorry I’m the one who’s here.” He felt his spine curl as if he were a hedgehog seeking shelter. “I’m sorry it wasn’t Noah or Harry or John. I’m sorry it’s me. I tried to fix it, but there’s nothing I can do.”
His bent head pushed into his knuckles. His hands had clenched into fists. He held on, trying not to let his emotions run wild.
“Grayson, what are you talking about?”
He took her hand. “I know.” He squeezed her palm between his. “I don’t mind, Mama. I can’t blame you.”
“What are you talking about?” This echo was just a hint more strident.
“When I told you about Noah.” He let out a breath. “I saw it. Your first reaction. You resented the fact that it was me who came back.”
Her breath was shaky.
“I don’t blame you,” he told her. “I don’t, I really don’t—”
“Gray. No. Oh God, no.”
He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “I know what resentment looks like on you, Mama.”
Her lips trembled. Her hands were shaking in his. But she looked in his eyes. “Of course I resented that my sons were taken away from me!” She spat out those words. “Of course I resented it! I hate it! I hate everything about it! I will never forgive the greed and cruelty that foisted a war on us for it. Never.”
“I know, Mama, I know.”
Her eyes glistened in the night. “But I never resented your surviving. Never. What did I do to make you think such a thing?”
He stared at her. He didn’t understand. How could she not resent him? God, he resented himself.
That was when reality broke. Of course. He resented himself. It was him, all him, his own acrimony and bitterness coiling together into venom in his heart. Compared with his brothers, his own survival felt like a colossal mistake. And this—this crushing grief and inadequacy—this was why he didn’t want to sort through his feelings.