Free Assumptions by C.E. Pietrowiak Page A

second
floor."
    “Number two. Think I got that.”
    The lock clicked open. Will waited on the
landing, still in his school uniform. He watched Jordyn come up the
stairs. "Wow, not what I expected.”
    “Did you think I’d show up in a prom dress or
something?”
    “Or something. Nice shades.”
    “Like ‘em? They’re Italian. From Rome. My
father’s idea of a souvenir.”
    “Come in. Let me take your coat." Will took
her coat and disappeared down the hall, returning a couple of
minutes later with a large book in his hands. “Study's this way.
Follow me."
    Will sped down the hall to a cozy room lined
floor to ceiling with mahogany bookshelves except for one wall,
papered in maroon and gold stripes. A pair of well-worn leather
armchairs flanked a side table with a small reading lamp. Somewhere
among the books, a carriage clock tick-tocked softly. Will laid his
book on one of the chairs and motioned to the other. "You can put
your stuff there. Hungry? I'll go grab a snack. Be right back."
    Before Jordyn could speak, he was gone. She
tossed her backpack beside the chair and dropped her sunglasses on
the table. Two diplomas hung high on the bookless wall, one a
Master of Philosophy in Archaeological Heritage and Museums, the
other a Doctorate in Archaeological Studies, both granted to
William Robert Emerson, Sr., both with the four-lion crest of
Cambridge. Below the diplomas hung a few framed photos of a
light-haired man standing in the desert and below the photos
several vivid rectangles where the wallpaper had been protected,
unfaded behind whatever was there before.
    An open box full of framed photos sat on the
floor. Jordyn pulled one off the top. A woman beamed at the camera.
Jordyn recognized her thoughtful brown eyes and dark hair. She took
another out of the box. A young boy and his family enjoyed tea
under the shade of a palm in a walled garden.
    Will returned, two cups in his hands and a
box of biscuits tucked under his elbow. The bright smell of lemon
followed him in.
    Jordyn held the photos in her hands. "You
moving?"
    "No. Why?"
    "The pictures."
    "My dad took them down when we got back. He
didn't want any reminders."
    "Reminders? Of what?" asked Jordyn.
    "I thought you knew. Doesn't everyone?"
    "Newbie here, remember?"
    "Oh, right. It's a long story."
    "I'm listening."
    "Um, well, it's my mother. She's . . . she
disappeared," said Will.
    "My mom took off when I was two. It's been me
and my dad ever since. I don't get it. How do they just leave like
that?"
    "No. She didn't leave. I meant she was . . .
abducted."
    "I'm so sorry."
    "Yeah. So's everyone. It's okay. Really. I
shouldn’t have told you."
    "No. I'm glad you did.” Jordyn pulled out
another photo of a young family in the middle of a crowded plaza.
“The woman in the photos, she's your mother?"
    "Yeah. That’s Manger Square. In Bethlehem. We
were visiting some of my mother’s family at Christmas. A few of
them still live near there.”
    “In Israel?”
    “No. West Bank. They’re Palestinian
Christians.” Will squeezed the cups onto the small table.
    “Just like in your photo. The tea, I
mean.”
    “It’s okay, isn’t it? I got used to tea over
the summer. I forget I’m here now. I can get some water.”
    Jordyn curled into the soft leather chair.
“No, it’s nice.” Jordyn sipped her tea, amber and sweet-tart.
"Deirdre invited me for elevenses; not this Saturday, but next.
Elevenses is tea, isn't it? You should come."
    "Me?" Will shoved a biscuit into his
mouth.
    "Is there someone else in the room?"
    Will shrugged.
    Jordyn shook her head. "We're meeting at a
place called Molly's. It's only a few blocks from here. Have you
been?"
    Will took his cup and hastily washed down the
biscuit. "No. But, I . . ."
    "You're coming. I'll meet you here at
ten-thirty." Jordyn took another sip of tea. “How long were you
abroad?”
    “My parents started taking me on their digs
when I was seven. I’ve been every summer since. Mostly Israel.”
    “My