“Ann,” Steve said gently. “We’re here.”

“Yes sir, I know,” she smiled, seemingly coming to life in an instant like someone had thrown a switch. As far as Steve could have told she’d been out like a light from terminal to terminal. “Thank you for not bothering me, though.”

“You looked like you were asleep to me.”

“Oh, I was, sir,” she smiled. “I had a pretty nice nap. I tend to know what is happening around me while I sleep, though I can sleep as long as I don’t have to interact with anything. That wakes me up.”

Steve shook his head. “I can think of some college classes I had where that skill would have been very useful.”

“I find it helpful, sir,” she said as she unfastened her seat belt and prepared to get up. “I can never tell when Mr. Taylor is going to need my attention, so it’s nice to know what’s going on around me.”

They busied themselves getting off the plane. She had no luggage other than a small briefcase, while he had kept his to an overnight bag and the laptop. From the virtue of being in the first-class section, they managed to be two of the first people off the plane. “Only a couple hours to go, sir,” she said as they walked through the terminal. “I’m starting to be concerned about being away from Mr. Taylor for so long.”

“Does he have to have someone with him all the time?” Steve asked out of curiosity.

“Well, not really,” she shrugged, “but there’s a lot he can’t do for himself so I like to be there for him.”

“Don’t you have someone else you could call in to help out?”

“Not without some complications we’d really rather avoid, sir,” she shook her head. “I’ll feel better when we get back.”

Stranger and stranger, Steve thought as he followed through several doors, down an escalator, and to a rather grubby pick-up area. They only had to stand around for a moment until she picked out a transfer bus from a parking company. She told the driver the number of the sign where she had parked, and they got aboard. A handful of other passengers got on, then the driver started for the parking lot a couple miles away. They rode down the long entrance drive, and under the Interstate. “Been a long time since I’ve been here,” Steve remarked to Ann.

“I don’t often get here myself, sir,” she replied. “It is nice to get out and around once in a while, even though the trip had to be brief.”

The transfer bus driver came to a near stop in the middle of acres of parked cars. “Which one is yours, ma’am?” he asked.

“Up ahead a little ways,” she said. “The white one with the rear end sticking out.”

“Wow!” the driver said. “You don’t see those much anymore.”

In a moment he pulled to a stop behind the car, and Steve could see what the driver had been talking about. Its rear end was indeed sticking out into the driveway, and it had good reason to; it was a huge Lincoln Continental, looking like it dated from back in the ’70s sometime. It looked to be close to twice the size of the cars parked on either side. It was in immaculate condition, glistening from a serious polish job and neatly detailed. “Neat wheels,” Steve said, impressed. “The guy who designed that must not have known what the words ‘gas mileage’ meant.”

“I don’t drive it very often,” Ann replied, a little sheepishly. “You would not believe how cold you can get in the winter while you’re standing by the gas pump waiting and waiting and waiting for the tank to fill. Mr. Taylor bought it new, by the way. It mostly sits around since he doesn’t drive any more, but the minivan is in the shop.”

Forty years old or whatever, it was comfortable inside, if huge. It was also very quiet, and Steve hardly noticed the bumps and potholes of the poorly paved parking lot. Ann drove the big old boat up to the checkout window and paid the parking charge. A couple minutes later they were out on the Interstate heading to the west in the fading light of a gray Michigan evening. Although it was overcast, she was still wearing her sunglasses.

“Nice car,” Steve commented, looking to make some conversation. “I mean, this is what I think of when I hear the words ‘luxury car.’”

“I’m fond of it, sir” Ann smiled. “This car has performed a role in several pivotal events in my life, and is at least a little bit responsible for my name.”

“Your name?” he said. “I didn’t think you’re as old as this car has to be.”

“I’m not, sir,” she said. “But ‘Ann Rutledge’ is not anything close to the name I was born with. After Mr. Taylor rescued me, he realized that my old name was at best a hazard to both of us. He was casting about for ideas while riding in this vehicle, and somehow it struck him that Ann Rutledge was Mr. Lincoln’s first love.” She glanced toward him for a moment with a grin on her face. “Had she lived, it’s possible that much of our history would have been different. It seemed appropriate, and we never considered anything else.”

“So,” he said casually, realizing that the door to this mystery woman had been opened a little, “what was your birth name?”

“Sir, you don’t need to know right now,” she snapped, a definite tenseness chilling the conversation. Steve realized he’d stepped in it and should have known better.

“And perhaps not ever?” he said, trying to be understanding.

“That is correct, sir,” she replied, the icy businesswoman having made a reappearance. “I try to not even think it. However, ‘Ann Rutledge’ is not an alias. My name change was as legal as it could be, even if it had to be done a little obscurely. If it turns out that you need to know, you will be told. Otherwise it does not matter.”

“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have asked,” he shrugged. “Just trying to make a little conversation.” And find out a little more about her, he carefully did not say. There were several things about her that didn’t quite add up, and now he’d found another one. It seemed likely that he hadn’t reached the bottom of the well yet. There had to be a story there, even though it seemed likely he’d never hear it. At any rate, it was clear there was no point in prying, so he resolved to keep his mouth shut about it.

“Sir, it’s been hours since we ate,” she said after several miles of silence, “and I find I’m a bit hungry. Would you like to stop? It’s still a couple hours before we get to Wychbold.”

“Fine with me,” Steve agreed. “What we had for lunch hasn’t held me very well.”

There was a sign for a chain restaurant coming up at the next exit, one of those with outlets everywhere, although not a fast food place either. Ann stepped on the brakes, flipped on the turn signal and took the exit. In a couple minutes she was pulling into a parking space at the restaurant. Once inside, they were shown to a table, and the hostess brought them menus.

After glancing the menu over, Steve decided that while some of the things on it sounded pretty good, he wasn’t as hungry as he’d first thought. After all, he’d done little all day except sit in various seats. “I think I’m just going to have something light, if it’s all right with you,” he told Ann.

“I was thinking much the same thing, sir,” she said. “The menu says breakfast twenty-four hours, and I find that appealing.”

“You know, that sounds pretty good to me, too,” he agreed.

The nice thing about ordering breakfast was that it came quickly. Hash browns, scrambled eggs, sausage patties, and coffee hit Steve just about right, and Ann’s somewhat lighter meal seemed to satisfy her, too. The waitress appeared while they were eating and topped up their coffee. “That tasted better than I expected, sir,” she said as she wiped her mouth daintily after finishing up her dinner. “I guess I really did need something to eat.”

“It’s not bad,” he agreed, glancing over at her. She still had her sunglasses on, and it seemed a little strange in this family restaurant.

“No, it isn’t,” she sighed. “Sir, the plane running almost two hours late has messed things up a little. I need you to do something for me. Can you drive the rest of the way?”

“Sure, I can probably find the way, although it’s been years since I’ve been anywhere near Wychbold.”

“I can help you with that,” she said. “Sir, I don’t drive after dark unless I absolutely have to. I would not have done it early this morning if there had been any other way.”

“Not a problem,” he shrugged, “but out of curiosity, why don’t you like to drive after dark?”

“My eyes are extremely light sensitive, sir. Under almost any conditions I can see well enough to drive almost anywhere without using headlights, but the glare of the headlights of an oncoming vehicle totally blinds me. I can usually manage a four-lane divided highway all right, but a two-lane road is almost a death trap. I only got away with it this morning since there’s very little oncoming traffic on obscure county roads at three in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you just come up and get a motel near the airport last night?”

“I suppose I could have,” she sighed, “but that would have meant leaving Mr. Taylor alone for much too long. That’s something I would only dare to do in the most extreme circumstances. This has been long enough as it is. Driving at that hour seemed like the best compromise.”

“I guess you’d know more about it than I would,” he shrugged. “Is that why you’ve worn sunglasses all day?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded. “Bright light blinds me, and rather painfully at that. I’m sure you know what it’s like to get adapted to the dark and walk into a brightly lit room.”

“Yeah, that can be hard,” he nodded. “It’s worse for you, I take it?”

“Actually, sir, I can’t compare it to other people since my eyes have never been normal, but from judging other people’s reactions it may well be worse, since almost everything people would consider normal is much too bright for me. It would be difficult for me to deal with the lighting in this room without my sunglasses. I could handle it if I had to, but it’s right on the edge of being too much.”

Steve hadn’t really paid much attention to the lighting in the room, but now he did. It was, well, normal – hardly overly bright to him, maybe a little dimmer than optimum, though certainly not romantically dark.

“That’s different,” he commented. “I take it you see better in the dark than most people?”

“That’s been my experience, sir,” she said. “I’m as blind as anyone else in total darkness, but I see quite well in conditions that most people would consider much too dim. From my experience, I don’t see quite as well in the dark as a cat, and a cat can also see better in bright conditions than I can. My eyes don’t adapt as well or as quickly to changing light conditions as those of a cat. On top of that, my color vision in brighter light is limited.”

“That has had to make things a little different for you,” he commented.

“There have been difficulties, sir,” she conceded. “It gave me great difficulties in school, for example. I don’t think I had one single teacher who didn’t take my wearing heavy sunglasses all the time as a personal affront. Of course, I caught hell from the kids, as well.”

“Kids can really be assholes toward someone who’s a little different, can’t they?” he said sympathetically.

“I could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe,” she sighed. “But I won’t, since I’ve mostly been able to put those things behind me. It’s just one of several things Mr. Taylor has been helpful with.”

Steve would liked to have asked what some of those were, but he knew from previous experience that he could go too far, too easily. He restrained himself and asked, “This light sensitivity – is it something genetic?”

“Yes, sir,” she shrugged. “It is considered a birth defect that goes along with being an albino.”

“Albino?” he said. He hadn’t considered that, but as soon as she said the word he realized that it was a fair description of her – she had almost white skin, after all, and very little color to her blonde hair.

“Yes,” she smiled. “Actually, sir, I consider myself lucky. Most albinos have much worse vision problems than I do.”

“Now that you mention it, I guess I realized you were on the light-skinned side,” he smiled. “I’ll bet you don’t get out in the sun much, even with sunglasses.”

“Oh, no, sir,” she said. “I have almost no melanin in my skin, so I don’t tan, not even a little bit. What I do is burn, and quite easily. In a very short time I can be sunburned so badly it can be life threatening. It almost happened several times, especially when I was younger.”

“Between that and the light sensitivity, I’ll bet it’s tempting to make your life at night.”

“Oh, yes,” she smiled, “and it’s more than tempting. This day has been very strange for me, since I’ve been up all day. Usually I get up about this time, or perhaps a little before. In the winter with the shorter days I’ll sometimes go days, even weeks, without seeing daylight.”

“I have to ask how Uncle Homer gets along with it.”

“Mr. Taylor has been very accepting, sir,” she smiled. “While there are some things he has to do in normal business hours, for the most part he’s become almost as nocturnal as I am. We keep the lights in the house low enough that it doesn’t bother me, but bright enough for him to get along. I think it safe to say that we consider it normal for us.”

“Makes sense, even though it sounds a little strange,” Steve nodded. Some of the mystery about her had evaporated in the last couple minutes, although it was clear that a good deal remained, especially about her background. “When I was younger I tended to be a little late to bed, late to rise myself. Since I don’t have to get up in the morning any longer, I find myself slipping back into it.”

“Good,” she said. “I suspect that will make things go a bit more easily all the way around.” She let out a sigh and went on, “There’s one more thing about me that I suppose we might as well get out of the way, sir, and it’s something that tends to freak people out. At least now I have you somewhat prepared for it.”

“What’s that?”

“Look at my eyes, sir” she said. “It’s still bright enough in here that I don’t want to let you see for long.”

Before he could ask what she was talking about, she reached up and raised the mirror sunglasses that she’d been wearing all day, and looked at him, eyes open. Even with the warning, he was a little surprised to discover that the pupils of her eyes were red – not flag red, not Ohio State Buckeye jersey red, more of a brownish red, mottled with a hint of orange – but yes, red. “I see,” he said, trying to sound a little impassive. “Thank you.”

She pulled the sunglasses back over her eyes. “Thank you for not taking longer than necessary, sir,” she replied. “It really is so bright in here that it hurts my eyes.”

“I can see why it would freak people out,” he replied, trying to sound a little objective.

“You have no idea, sir,” she sighed. “There have been times . . . well, let’s not get into that.”

“It seems to me that you could wear colored contact lenses that would cover that up and still block a lot of light.”

“I have them, and I use them when I need to,” she shrugged. “There are times when I have to do things for Mr. Taylor when sunglasses just aren’t appropriate. The problem is that they irritate my eyes badly and they are very uncomfortable at the best of times. I can go perhaps three hours before the rest of my eyes are pinkish red and rather painful, so I only wear them when I must and have no other options. I didn’t bother with them today since I was aware I was going to be out in what I consider to be bright conditions all day, which is much too long.”

He grasped for something to say that would sound supportive and understanding. “It must get awkward at times,” he finally managed.

“It does,” she sighed. “Fortunately I’ve been able to adapt my life to it, with a great deal of support from Mr. Taylor.” She shook her head, glanced at her watch and said with a finality that indicated that she’d said about all she meant to on that subject, “I suppose we should be going, sir. I had hoped to be back about the time he normally gets up, but I’m afraid that there’s no chance of that. I expect a call from him on my cell phone at any time.”

“Fine with me,” he replied, polishing off his coffee.

He reached for his wallet when they got up to the cash register, but she stopped him. “This is still business, sir,” she said, producing a credit card.

“That felt strange,” he said when they got outside. “I know this is business, but I still feel like I should have been the one who paid. Call me old-fashioned, or something.”

“I appreciate the thought, sir,” she replied as she walked to the right side of the big Lincoln, with Steve right behind her. “But you’re also the one who is out of work. Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

Steve held the door for her as she got into the passenger seat. In a moment, he was behind the wheel, fastening his seat belt. He looked around and shook his head. What a huge barge! It had to be twice the size of his familiar little Caliber! It wouldn’t do to hit anything, either – it could destroy a regular car if he hit it, and it might not even scratch the paint on this big old bomber. Somehow, he didn’t think that would be a good thing.

He got the car going – it was so quiet it was a little hard to tell it was running – and gingerly backed out of the parking space. Good god, this thing is huge, he thought as he steered it out of the restaurant parking lot, feeling something like a sailor who had to steer an aircraft carrier into a snug harbor somewhere. Fortunately it was no trick to get it back out on the Interstate, just running with the normal well-over-the-speed-limit traffic. “I have to admit, it’s a nice ride,” he told Ann once he’d gotten used to it a little. “But something like this has to be pretty valuable.”

“It probably is, sir,” she said. “I really haven’t looked into it, and I don’t think Mr. Taylor has, either. It just sits around most of the time, but it’s handy to have when we need a spare car. We have a minivan with a wheelchair lift we normally use. That’s what I use to get groceries and run other errands like that. But like I said, it’s in the shop right now.”

“It doesn’t seem to me like there would have been that big a hurry to come and look me up,” he offered. “It could have waited a few days. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been doing anything useful.”

“It was what Mr. Taylor wanted,” she said. “He has his reasons, sir. Sometimes I know what they are. More often I don’t. It could have come at a better time from my viewpoint, but it’s very likely it could have come at a worse time from his. I suspect you’ll find out.”

“Could be,” he shrugged. “I sure wish I knew what this was all about, though.”

“Sir, as I told you earlier, I have some thoughts about it but they might not be correct. They certainly are not complete, so it’s best if we wait and let Mr. Taylor tell you about them himself.”

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