Memories

By Ellen C. Lindow

BobMathias' newest patient was having his first meal when he stopped by to check on him.

"Doctor Bob!" Emma smiled a welcome. She looked down at her tiny son. "Isn't he the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?"

The words echoed through his memory to the first time he had ever been asked that question. Even after all these years the memory almost brought tears to his eyes. Fortunately, Emma Carter was too caught up with her newborn son to notice. The baby boy was still rosy red from his recent ordeal. A soft down of light colored hair covered his head, indicating he would probably have his father's coloring, but his features reminded Bob very much of Emma on the day of her birth. He worked to regain his equilibrium as he recalled having the privilege of delivering two generations to his long-time friend and co-worker.

He tucked away the memory of another baby the color of café au lait with a full head of dark hair and a mother no older than nineteen year old Emma. "He's quite wonderful, Emma," The doctor managed to say diplomatically. "I don't know who is floating higher out there, your father or your husband."

Emma practically glowed as the baby gave a satisfied sigh and gave up the breast. She touched the baby's soft cheek as if not quite convinced of the baby's presence. "Alan let Daddy bring him in and introduce him to me. Mama said Daddy did that with her too."

Bob nodded, remembering the births of Emma and her brothers. He checked the monitors. "Emma, you've come though this with flying colors, despite the long labor. Preston is doing well too. I've sent Alan home to get some sleep and told him he can pick you up in the morning."

"Good. I don't think he's slept any in the past two days."

"Well, you need to get some sleep too. I know your mom is planning to help out during the day but that young man will be keeping you up nights," he said, speaking from experience. He pressed back the memories threatening to surface again. He had delivered nearly a quarter of the children born on Alpha during the past two decades. Why was this birth any different? Why did long burried memories fight their way to the surface as he helped Alan and Emma Carter bring their first-born into the world?

"All right," Emma agreed, handing the baby to Bob and settling back in bed. She still felt a kind of euphoria that superceded any fatigue despite the fact that she'd had only snatches of sleep in the last forty-eight hours.

"Do you want something to help you sleep?" Bob asked as he put the baby in the clear plastic crib beside Emma's bed. Keisha had been just as excited, he remembered involuntarily. While he had been exhausted and practically asleep on his feet, Keisha seemed to be full of energy and calling everyone in the Parish.

"Oh, no, please. I feel wonderful just the way I am." Emma reached out and took Bob's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you, Bob, for everything."

Bob patted her hand and Emma obediently closed her eyes. As he left her he glanced back. She was still smiling. He thought to himself that she would probably be up again and on the phone the minute he was out of sight. On the slate he corrected himself, not the phone. Obviously he was tired too.

Emma's parents were still in the main section of medical center. John Koenig stood behind his wife, arms around her waist smiling happily as Helena talked to Jeremy Devers. Bob joined them, walking slowly with the cane he had used for the last five years since an accident on Loki had crushed his kneecap. Jeremy and Helena had done an impressive job of reconstructive and replacement surgery, but at the age of sixty, his body's tendons had failed to heal completely.

"Emma and young Preston are both resting comfortably and we'll release them tomorrow. You should get some rest," he advised the new grandparents. He turned to Jeremy. "And I need some sleep too."

First shift had only recently begun, but Bob and the Koenigs had been in medical center all night long. Jeremy nodded. "I'll mind the store. And I've already had Carolyn check your calendar and reschedule your appointments."

"Thanks," Bob said gratefully. His own emotions were still too close to the surface for him to be dealing with the emotions of others. Except for a few long-time patients like the Koenigs and the Carters, Bob's main duties were as psychiatrist rather than medical doctor. He wasn't up to that today.

Commander Koenig kissed his wife's cheek. "I need to run by the office for a few minutes." At her look he promised, "No more than an hour, really."

Helena smiled at her husband and he slipped out. Bob turned to leave and Helena fell into step beside him. They walked in silence down the hall away from the busy medical center. They were old friends and had been through a lot together, but had rarely interfered in each other's personal lives.

"You seem rather, distracted," Helena said gently.

"I suppose I am," Bob replied softly. He eyed his friend pensively, knowing she could be persistent when she determined there was a problem. "Preston's birth reminded me, a bit, of my oldest son's birth." He hesitated and added, "Emma is just the same age as my wife was, and has the same sort of-infectious enthusiasm for life." He watched Helena closely. Americans could be rather unpredictable about matters of race, and today, he felt closer to the views of the Old South than the more relaxed atmosphere of Alpha.

Helena gave a small smile. "Your wife must have been very special then."

Bob relaxed slightly. He should have known better than to think Helena would voice any sort of racial prejudice. "She was," he said, simply, wistfully.

Helena couldn't remember Bob ever mentioning his wife or any of his family before at any time during their long association. When she had first come to Alpha his office had been filled with pictures of a pretty young woman and two small boys. He had taken a six month leave shortly after she arrived, and returned to Alpha only weeks before Breakaway. New pictures had appeared, the boys older, and the young woman held a baby. The pictures remained until shortly after they had encountered Terra Nova and the persona of her first husband. Then the pictures had vanished. Mathias had always kept his personal life private. He had never mentioned his family to her and she had allowed him to cope with his loss in his own way. It was obvious that the incident at Terra Nova had been the turning point when he realized they would not be going home.

"Tell me about her," Helena said gently, expecting him to refuse.

Bob remained quiet for a moment. They had arrived at the door to his quarters. He opened the door and ushered her inside offering her a seat on the sofa. The room had a small grow window, but no windows to the outside. Glass shelves framed the grow window displaying exquisite fossils and crystals from Loki. From a bookshelf packed with medical texts he took a well-worn photo album and brought it with him as he took a seat beside Helena.

He opened the album to the first page. There was a picture of a pretty teenage girl with skin the color of café au lait and merry dark eyes. She was standing in a restaurant holding a tray of food.

"I met her the week after I started med school at Tulane. She was barely sixteen and working in her father's restaurant near the university. I was in a foreign country that felt like an alien world. I knew no one and was so homesick I almost gave up. Keisha took me under her wing, taught me how to eat cajun food, and introduced me to her large extended family. She was still in high school.

He shook his head. "Louisiana's public schools had a well-deserved reputation for the worst educational system in the States. She was bright and clever and loved to read, but had never been encouraged to even finish high school, much less consider higher education. She was happy with that. She enjoyed working in the restaurant, enjoyed seeing and talking to people, and could cook-well, almost as well as her father. I would bus tables in exchange for meals, but most of the time I sat in the back of the restaurant and studied. Within a few months it was obvious that we were madly in love and her father was enthusiastic about having a doctor in the family.

"Sometimes it seemed that he was more proud of me than my own father. My father expected me to be a doctor. Keisha's father was awed by my ambition, and did everything he could to encourage and assist me."

He turned the page to a formal wedding picture. The Catholic church was all polished wood and stained glass behind them. Candles were lit, and the wedding party was large. The bride's attendants wore brightly colored dresses and the young men looked distinguished in tuxes. The bride and groom had eyes only for each other. There were three other pictures from the wedding reception. The bride and groom looked very happy and very much in love.

"We were married the week she graduated from high school and lived together in a tiny apartment near the University. We had no money, but her father kept us well fed. LeRoy was born the following spring. Like Alan, I was dead on my feet by the time the baby was born and Keisha was absolutely euphoric.

"LeRoy was the eldest grandchild and well named. The entire family treated him like a king. He wasn't yet two when I received my appointment for internship in Philadelphia. Deran was born there. Keisha cried for days, terrified that her sons would grow up to speak like Yankees. She was so homesick. She hated the weather, and the city and being away from her family. I began to fear that she wouldn't survive the year we had to spend there."

The next pictures were of two toddlers on the beach with Keisha and Bob, building sand castles and chasing a beach ball. "We were both relieved when I was offered a residency position in Houston. I had to travel, but when I did, Keisha could go home to her parents where she was happiest. Once I could afford it, we built a house just outside of New Orleans. That was home for us. We kept an apartment in Houston, but spent as much time at home as possible. Keisha was more alive there, happier. She never tried to keep me from being involved in the space program. She understood my fascination for it, but she never shared it.

There were more pictures of Bob and the boys fishing; sitting around a dinner table with a birthday cake for one of the boys; Keisha standing in a kitchen stirring a large pot. Keisha and Bob sitting together on a porch swing, the trees in the background lush and green and weeping with Spanish moss.

"When I was appointed to Alpha I had a video phone installed and called her and the boys every day. I loved to see her face and hear her voice. She was appalled by the expense, but agreed that it was worth it. Shortly after you came to Alpha our daughter, Shantay, was born. That's when I look a leave of absence."

The last pictures included a family portrait, the boys now around six and eight, both with the same dark-creamy skin and merry eyes as their mother. The baby girl was dressed in pink frills with a headband of pink ribbon. Her father held her proudly on his lap. Keisha leaned against her husband's shoulder, eyes still full of merriment and life.

Helena felt a deep regret. Bob had not seen these children grow up or been able to grow old with his wife. "If they could have been here with you-"

"No," Bob said. "No, it would never have been right. Keisha would have been miserable here. She would never have survived. She needed her home and her family around her."

He looked into Helena's eyes. "No day goes by when I don't think of her, miss her, wonder how the children fared. I've spent most of my life advising our people to start over, counseling them to put their loved ones on Earth behind them, and begin again here, but I've never been able to follow my own advice."

"That's why you've never married-" Helena shivered. There had been times when she and John had nearly been separated, when they had encountered the black sun and the prison planet. She couldn't imagine living without him for all these years.

"I'm already married," he said with a gentle smile and a glance at Keisha's face smiling at him from the photograph, her arms around the most beautiful children he had ever seen.

Helena's slate chimed and she lifted it and touched the screen.

John's face smiled at her. "Well, Grandma, I kept my promise. I'm home. Where are you?" His merry blue eyes were filled with mischief and his look and mood made her feel like any thing but a grandmother.

She smiled. "I'll be right there, Grandpa," she teased back. She shut off the slate and looked at Bob.

He smiled back. "Go home. Get some rest."

"Yes, Doctor," she said flippantly. Then she put her arm around him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for sharing your photos with me."

He nodded and she left quickly. He caressed the well-worn album that held more than photos. It held memories, and his heart.

April 18, 1999

Ellen C. Lindow