Oblivion by Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page B

scent of pancakes and fresh coffee. Constance was here, and she knew he was home.
    For the first time in days, he felt really and truly hungry.
    Me pulled on a sweater and a pair of jeans, and walked, barefoot, down the stairs. He would have to change before the big meeting, but he had about four hours. Even in the worst traffic, it wouldn’t take him that long to get downtown.
    Soft voices reached him as he got to the bottom of the stairs. Female voices. For a moment, he thought Constance had the radio or the television on, and then he recognized the second voice.
    His mouth went instantly dry.
    Britt.
    He hadn’t expected to see her until the meeting.
    He ran a hand through his wet hair, feeling like a teenager ill prepared for a first date. Dr. Brittany Archer had that effect on him. They had become involved shortly after they met, and they’d been lovers for some time now, but his heart still jumped when he heard her voice. He hadn’t felt this strongly about any woman in all his years. All he wished was that he’d met Britt Archer under different circumstances.
    Cross made his way through the hall into the kitchen. Constance was pouring batter on the griddle. She already had a pile of perfectly formed pancakes on a platter. Sausages steamed on another platter beside it. Fresh-squeezed orange juice was in a glass pitcher near the refrigerator, and the last of the coffee percolated through the automated coffee maker.
    Britt was sitting at the kitchen table, her stockinged feet on one of the old chairs. Her dark hair was pulled back and held by a gold Irish-love-knot barrette—which would have survived the mess in Monterey. The thought made Cross’s gorge rise and he fought it down.
    Britt turned to him, her intelligent eyes missing nothing. She stood. She was nearly as tall as he was.
    “It was tough there, huh?”
    Apparently she saw it in his face. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t really want to discuss it. He buried his face in her neck and let himself feel how alive she was.
    After a moment, Constance said, “I got breakfast for you, Leo,” as if nothing had changed.
    The memory of the past two days had played hell with his appetite again, but he wasn’t going to let all this food go to waste. He squeezed Britt, then let her go, and walked over to Constance.
    “You’re trying to make me fat,” he said.
    “And I’m failing,” she said. “Looks like you lost weight in the past two days.”
    “Without your cooking, how could I survive?” He grabbed a plate from the cupboard and served himself, slathering the pancakes with butter and pouring maple syrup on top. Then he poured a glass of orange juice and headed for the table.
    Britt was just behind him, serving herself, as well.
    They didn’t even make a dent in the food, although Constance continued cooking, as if she were trying to feed an army instead of two of them. Cross had noticed that Constance had been doing that ever since the alien ships arrived, making too much food and then giving much of it away to shelters later on. It was as if some part of her felt guilty for still being there, for still being alive, for having a place to go and people to take care of.
    Cross took a bite of pancake and decided he hadn’t had anything that good in a long time. Then he smiled at Britt and put his hand on hers. “I didn’t expect to see you until later.”
    “You think I’d want a reunion with you in front of the Tenth Planet Project?” Her eyes twinkled and she shook her head. “They would have loved that.”
    She got up and poured herself a huge mug of coffee. Then she held up the pot. “You want any?”
    He shook his head. He wasn’t quite the coffee freak that she was. He’d wait until he was done eating.
    She came back to the table and sat down. She wrapped her hands around the mug and stared at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    The pancake he’d been eating turned to