"I'm sorry, we'll visit more later," Carol said apologetically as they rushed away.
Mary murmured in agreement, but was kind of hoping that later never came. She knew if Carol got her alone she'd have more questions about Dante that she just had no idea how to answer. And Mary really didn't want to get in the middle of the argument Carol and Dave were having about moving or not moving. Her advice to Carol would be to do whatever the hell she wanted. If she wanted to move back to Winnipeg to be close to her kids, then do it. Life was too damned short to constantly push your own desires down and always do what others wanted. On her deathbed, Mary's mother had told her to follow her dreams, that on her own deathbed she wouldn't lie there patting herself on the back for all the times she was so good and kindhearted and did what others wanted, she'd be regretting all the things she'd wanted to do and hadn't.
Mary hadn't always followed that advice, but the older she got, the more she recognized the sense behind the words. Her mother hadn't been suggesting she act without considering others. She'd just been saying to be kind to herself as well as to others. Her own wants and needs should be at least as important as those of the others in her life. Because, frankly, if you didn't care about yourself, no one would, and you'd spend your life living for others.
"Your husband was unfaithful," Dante said bluntly once they'd left the restaurant and started the return walk to the RV.
Mary's hand tightened on Bailey's leash at that comment. He obviously had read Carol's thoughts. Either that or he'd realized the significance of what Carol had stopped herself saying. "Oh, is this one of Joe's chil--" Joe's children was what she'd started to say. One of his biological children, not with her, but with one of the many women he'd had affairs with over a fifteen-year period during the first part of their marriage.
"I told you he wasn't perfect," she muttered with a shrug.
"Yes. But you neglected to tell me he was repeatedly unfaithful to you during your marriage," he said grimly, sounding angry on her behalf. "That is a little less than imperfect."
"It was during the early years of our marriage," she said quietly. "But he made up for it during the last half of our marriage. He was the best husband a woman could ask for then."
"He was not," Dante assured her. "He simply got better at hiding his indiscretions."
"What?" Mary asked sharply, her steps halting. Then she scowled at him. "You don't know that."
"I read both Carol and Dave," he said quietly.
Her eyes widened with alarm. "He and Carol didn't . . . ?"
"No. Carol, like you, is a faithful wife," he assured her solemnly.
Mary let her breath out on a sigh. She and Carol had been good friends for a long, long time. The thought that she could have betrayed her like that would have been crushing. Which was ironic, she supposed. She should have been more distressed at Joe's betrayal had they had an affair. Instead, it was Carol's betrayal that would have hurt more. She supposed it was because she'd long ago given up any hope of being able to trust her husband in that regard. At least back then.
"Dave is how I know your husband continued his infidelities," Dante continued, "He and your husband were made from the same mold. The pair often trolled the bars together, knew each other's girlfriends, and covered for each other with "the wifey" as he put it in his thoughts."
Mary sighed at this news and continued walking. She wasn't terribly surprised by the information, but also wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with it. Should she be furious and confront Dave? Why? What did it matter? Joe was dead.
"He continues to philander here in Texas," Dante said grimly. "And Carol is aware of it. That is part of the reason she wants to move back to Winnipeg. Dave uses the campground as his own personal hunting grounds. He has affairs with many of the women who camp here, married or not. He also has had the occasional fling with workers."
Mary's mouth tightened and her heart went out to Carol, but again, she didn't know what to do about it. If, as he said, Carol knew . . . well, she wouldn't want to add to her humiliation and bring up the subject with her. They'd only discussed the subject of Joe's infidelities once, years ago, after the car accident that had led to her not being able to have children. Mary had almost left Joe then, but . . .
"Carol believes you stayed with Joe because you could not have children," Dante said quietly. "She believes you felt no other man would want a woman who couldn't give him children."
"Children are important to most men," she said quietly. "But that wasn't the only reason. He made a mistake, but no one is perfect."
He was silent for a minute and then said uncertainly, "Are the pictures in the RV of your husband's children with other women?"
Mary's mouth tightened. She hated being reminded of the children he'd had with other women. She knew they existed, but not how many. "No. They're our adopted children. We adopted a boy and a girl. Both grown now with children of their own."
"I see. But Joe had children of his own without you?" he asked, not letting the subject go.
Mary opened her mouth to tell him she didn't want to talk about that subject, but then sighed and said, "He traveled a lot for work when we were younger. It was at a time when we were having marital problems. Sometimes he was away for months in foreign countries negotiating this deal or that one. He was lonely and took up with other women."
"I would never be unfaithful to you Mary," he said solemnly. "No matter how long we were apart."
The words surprised a short laugh from her and she shook her head. "Dante, you're far too young for me. Save proclamations like that for someone your own age."
"I am older than I look," he said solemnly.
Relieved to see that they'd reached the end of the lane and were approaching the RV, Mary smiled at him and said dryly, "So you've said. But, sweetheart, if you're over twenty-five or twenty-six I'll eat my hat."
"I am well over twenty-five but would never make you eat anything you did not want to, especially a hat."
Mary raised her eyebrows, then just shook her head and led Bailey to the picnic table to collect her double dish. She carried it to the RV and quickly unlocked and opened the door. Bailey immediately tried to rush up the stairs, but Mary stopped her with a sharp, "Stay."
Bailey sat then and waited for Mary to mount the stairs before following her into the RV. Mary wasn't very good at consistency, but according to the dog training books she'd resorted to lately, she should have made the dog wait for Dante to enter as well, but the leash made that difficult. Pausing next to the table, Mary set the dish on it, then bent to undo Bailey's leash as Dante followed them in.
"I am serious, Mary. I am much older than I look," he insisted, pulling the RV door closed behind them.
Something about the tone of his voice made Mary glance warily his way as she finished removing Bailey's leash and straightened. He had sounded determined. He looked determined too. She wasn't sure what that determination was about, but it made her nervous, so she simply slipped past him to hang the leash from the hook next to the door and waited for him to continue.
"Come, sit," Dante suggested when she turned back.
Mary watched him take a seat at the dinette booth, but grabbed Bailey's dish, rinsed it out at the sink and filled both sides with water. She set it on the floor by the table for the dog, then settled at the dinette across from Dante, sliding further in and petting Bailey when the shepherd jumped up to lie on the bench seat next to her. "Okay, I'm sitting."
Dante nodded, and then paused briefly as if considering how to start, before saying, "Mary, my people are different."
"Your people?" she queried uncertainly, her gaze sliding over his dark hair and olive skin. That and his accent had made her assume that he was Italian. But Indians had darker skin and black hair, they also had sharp cheekbones as he did and often referred to their tribe as their people. Tilting her head, she asked, "Are you Indian?"
"No. Atlantean."
"Huh?" Mary peered at him blankly. "You mean from
Atlanta, Georgia?"
"No," he said with a small smile, and then reached across to take her hands gently in his. "You've heard of Atlantis?"
"Atlantis?" she repeated slowly. "That place that supposedly existed and sank into the ocean or something like forever ago. That Atlantis?"
"Yes." Dante smiled as if pleased she knew that much. "That Atlantis. My ancestors were from there."
"Riiiiight," she said slowly. "And who told you that?"
"My grandfather Nicodemus told me."
Mary nodded slowly, and then shook her head. Grandparents told their grandkids all sorts of delightful tales to entertain them, or to make themselves seem more interesting than they really were. Most kids grew up and realized they should take those tales with a grain of salt. Dante obviously hadn't and still believed them. Poor schmuck, she thought.
"He told Tomasso and me all about Atlantis," Dante went on. "About the tall buildings built from a white stone found only there. About the creeping vines that quickly grew to cover the buildings, helping to insulate them from the heat. He said that every summer they would sprout beautiful flowers, much like the flowers we call azaleas today, but larger."
"Dante," she said gently, "Even if Atlantis existed, your grandfather couldn't possibly know what it looked like. No one knows if it even really existed, let alone what it looked like."
"He does know. He lived there," Dante countered quietly.
"Ah, sweetheart," she murmured pityingly. "Surely you know Atlantis is supposed to have collapsed into the sea or whatever ages ago?"
"Yes."
"Well, then your grandfather couldn't possibly--"
"My people are different," he interrupted, repeating his earlier words. "They were advanced technologically, Mary. They were isolated from the rest of the world and had created transportation before the rest of the world even came up with the wheel. And scientifically they were advanced beyond where the rest of the world is even today."
"Dante," she said on a sigh, trying to pull her hands free of his, but he held on.
"Please, just let me tell you," he insisted quietly. "It will sound incredible and unbelievable and I know this, but let me just tell you anyway."
She hesitated, but then relented and nodded, her posture relaxing. What harm could there be in letting him tell her the stories his grandfather had told him? "All right. Go ahead."
"Thank you," he said, his lips lifting in a charming smile.
It made Mary want to try to snatch her hands away again. He was so damned beautiful, it was almost painful to peer at him. No one should be that good-looking. Or smell this good, she thought grimly as his scent wafted to her, setting her hormones buzzing. Images from her interrupted dreams last night started sliding through her mind: him leaning over her, his naked chest so wide and beautiful, his hair dropping around their faces like a curtain as he kissed her. His hands moving over her body, pushing her T-shirt up to caress her . . .
Damn, Mary thought, bringing her wayward brain to a halt. How had she got here? Holding hands with a handsome young stud half her age or more, and lusting after him like some twenty-year-old hopped up on hormones? She was a dirty old woman!
"As I said, the people of Atlantis were far more advanced scientifically," Dante began again, completely oblivious of her inner turmoil. "They had cures for many of the ailments we still do not have cures for today. But just before the fall of Atlantis, they had begun working with nanos."
When he paused then and hesitated, looking uncertain, Mary guessed he was trying to decide how to explain nanos and said dryly, "I know what nanos are. Or at least enough to follow this tale."
Dante relaxed and smiled again.
Mary followed the movement of his lips, noting that he was growing some serious stubble on his face, and, big surprise, it too looked damned good on him. She probably would have noticed it earlier if she hadn't been studiously avoiding looking directly at him all morning, thanks to her night of torrid dreams. Mary was looking now though, and thought that was probably dangerous. It made her want to run her fingers over his face to see if the stubble now gracing his face would feel as good as it looked. Fortunately, she was saved from herself when he began to speak again, reclaiming her attention to his words rather than how pretty he was.
"They had reached the point where they were experimenting with the use of nanos in health care," Dante continued. "They had bio-engineered nanos that, once introduced to the human body, could use human blood to reproduce and repair themselves as they worked to heal and repair the human body. For instance, if someone had cancer, the nanos recognized those cells as not belonging and would destroy them, and if a person was injured, the nanos would repair the wounds and so on."
Mary raised her eyebrows at this claim. It sounded like an awesome invention if it were possible. She just didn't think it was likely. These nanos would have to be programmed with every single little bit of knowledge about the human body, a lot of info to stick into something smaller than the head of a pin. However, she held her tongue.
"But as a result of a flaw in their design, the nanos had some unexpected side effects," he said solemnly.
"What kind of flaw?" Mary asked, curious, despite knowing none of this could be true.
Dante paused and frowned, and she wondered if he was making up an answer, and then he said, "The human body is attacked by many different illnesses and diseases; cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer's, meningitis and so on. And then there are about a million different injuries a human could sustain, anything from damage caused by a stroke to a punctured lung from a stab wound. Programming nanos specific to each possible need would have meant creating hundreds or even thousands of illness-or injury-specific nanos."
"More than that," Mary said dryly. She couldn't even guess how many different illnesses and injuries humans could suffer from. She'd read something once that had claimed there were at least 100,000 diseases in the world. How many injuries could be added to that? Creating that many programs for the nanos would have been a herculean task.
"Yes. So, rather than program the nanos for each specific need, the scientists developed a program that included the information for both male and female bodies at their peak, and programmed the nanos with the directive to ensure their host was at their peak condition and then self-destruct. At which point they would be flushed from the body naturally like all dead cells are."
Mary nodded. "Sensible."
"They thought so," he agreed with amusement. "However, it did not go quite as they planned. Nanos are ultimately machines, and machines are very literal, so if you gave them to a seventy-year-old man with cancer, not only did they eradicate the cancer, but they set about returning his body to the peak condition they had been programmed with."
Mary raised her eyebrows in question, not seeing a problem there. A fit seventy-year-old would be a good result.
"As it turns out, the human is at their peak condition in their mid to late twenties," he said quietly. "And so the nanos worked to return their hosts to that peak."
Mary sat back slowly as his words flowed over her. What he was talking about was that in a mythical land they had developed a mythical, scientific fountain of youth of sorts.
"Even once they had accomplished that, though, the nanos did not self-destruct and get flushed from the body," he continued. "Because the body is constantly under attack by the environment, the air we breathe, the sun, or just the passage of time, the nanos simply could not get the body to remain at what they considered its peak long enough to self-destruct. They would finish repairs only to find several cells had died from exposure to the sun or just because they'd reached their optimum age. So the nanos remained in the host, continuing to work and repair. Their hosts never sickened, did not age, and were they injured, the nanos quickly repaired them."
Mary let her breath out on a little sigh, thinking that it was a damned shame none of this was true, because that would rock. Or maybe not, she thought in the next moment. She'd lived a long time, gone
through a lot and seen a lot, and frankly, Mary was kind of tired. It wasn't that she was suicidal or anything, but death to her was starting to look like a bit of a respite or rest, rather than the scary ending she'd always thought of it as when she was young.
"And that is how I survived being crushed by your RV," Dante announced.
Mary blinked and refocused on him.
"What?" she asked sharply.
"I was badly injured in the accident," he said quietly. "My lower left leg was crushed, my one lung was punctured, I had several broken ribs, and I'm pretty sure several of my organs were crushed or at least seriously banged up in it as well. The tires tore my skin open in several places and the nanos simply couldn't close everything up before I lost a good deal of blood. They do need blood to work with after all and I was losing it quickly."
He shrugged. "Were I mortal, I would have died quickly, I think. But I am not and when you brought the doctors to me, I fed from them and the nanos began to work in earnest. Of course, I couldn't take all the blood I needed from them. It would have killed them, so I had the female fetch--"
"Wait, wait, wait," Mary interrupted with exasperation. "What do you mean you fed on them?"
"Their blood," he explained and reminded her, "The nanos need blood to do their work, as well as to power them."
"Their blood," she echoed in a whisper, then tilted her head and asked, "You saying that lady doctor fetched those men from the diner so you could . . ."
"So I could feed on them," he explained with a nod. "I fed on the EMTs too, and between them, the truckers and the doctors I gained enough blood for the nanos to make the necessary repairs. Fortunately, Tomasso and I have always been fast healers. Another immortal might have needed more time to allow the nanos to make the necessary repairs, but--" He paused and peered at her warily when Mary cursed under her breath.