TWO TEDS ~ Twilight Rendezvous: TWO TEDS, #1

By R. A. Cabral

TWO TEDS -- Twilight Rendezvous is a fantasy novella about a Cal Berkeley archaeology grad student who abandons academia to become a modern-day Joan of Arc by overcoming academic prejudice and personal animus. Her new mission: to serve as emissary to an extraterrestrial group offering Terrans a new path to enlightenment. The book concludes with a dramatic scene at UC Berkeley's Cal Memorial Stadium. This is the first book in a trilogy.

 

It also marks R. A. Cabral's 3rd fantasy novella. The other two include: 

The Miracle of the Christmas Wish Holder, novella  2011. Edition 2  2015;
plus the audiobook dramatization of the same title, 2015;

and A-S2: A Clockmaker's Journey,  novella, 2020.

 

Mr. Cabral lives in Sacramento, California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lost Armada Productions
• Release date: Jan 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215735053

R. A. Cabral

R. A. "Ricardo" Cabral is an established author. In fiction, primarily he specializes in Fantasy, a cross between Paranormal and Magical Realism. In non-fiction, he has published two e-books on baseball history.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

On screen, a drone is flying during daytime over California’s Central Valley, at about 10,000 feet altitude, west of Stockton, California, over a patchwork of Delta farmlands below. Turning from the screen­­­, Ted Nelson begins addressing a TEDx Conference in Berkeley, California. He’s a clone of a young Jack Black: burly but agile, snarly yet euphonious.

... Three weeks ago, if you’d told me that I’d be up here, on stage at a TED conference... my professional fantasy...

Scattered laughter breaks out among Auditorium attendees, watching as the view descends roughly to 4,000 feet, flying west parallel to Highway 4, entering Contra Costa County.

... that I’d be relating this story about the most amazing woman I think I’ve ever known ...

Approaching Mount Diablo, the higher of the two sister peaks in this isolated mountain range, the drone skirts the south side of the mountain, then continues west.

... Theadora, or Thea, as she came to be known these past few weeks... which rhymes with ‘play-uh’...

The drone lowers to 2,400 feet cruising north over the foothills until reaching Highway 24. It dips to 1,000 feet when soaring through the canyon as it passes Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory complex (which from this altitude features a building that doubles for a flying saucer). It then hovers over the region’s most recognizable monolithic structure: Cal Berkeley’s football field, Memorial Stadium.

... I would have shouted for all the world to hear one of us must be completely crazy. Or...

Bending just inside the famous campus landmark The Campanile (officially branded Sather Tower), the drone continues west about 500 feet above University Avenue.

... this story came down exactly the way I am about to relate it.

Once past Shattuck, it lowers to street level and, finally, reaching the rust-colored awning of Au Coquelet Cafe on the left, shoots through the tavern’s open doorway, makes a sharp right past the doors and zooms toward the table nearest the window.

... We’d just finished our show on K-P-F-A, the Two Teds, when we stopped for a beer at a favorite post-show hang out: Au Coquelet.

A flyer lying against the salt and pepper shakers reads: Two Teds weekly radio show. Featuring TeddyBear and TheadoraBul. Seated opposite each other drinking beers are the show’s two co-hosts: Teddy Nelson and Theadora Bulda; a few years older and moderately attractive with minimal makeup, green eyes bordering on hazel and mousy, brown hair.

High-energy Teddy jabbered on until he noticed Dora staring out the window, inattentive. Ted powered down. Hey, what’s come over you? You were like this the entire show.

Dora looked from the window to her collaborator. Like what?

"I think the medical definition is desultory, Ted quipped. You’re so low energy, any second your head could sink into your shoulders."

Dora slowly shook her head and sighed. Today is the 15th anniversary of my sister’s death.

Ted recoiled at the mere mention. Oh, so sorry to hear, Dora. Here I am going on like the Energizer Bunny, all hopped up. Ted remained quiet for two seconds. Younger, older?

Two years younger. My only sib. Pam was nine when it happened.

Dora takes him back to the Bulda home, where as an eleven-year-old, she had skipped into the kitchen, saw platters of meat, potatoes, and salad on the table for that night’s dinner. Her mother stood at the sink, washing a serving spoon.

Call your sister, dear. Time for supper.

She upstairs? Not waiting for her mother’s reply, Dora bounded up the stairs and entered the girls’ bedroom. The two twin beds were neatly made-up, abutting the back wall. One quick glance revealed Pamela wasn’t in the room. Through the window, Dora heard the bicycle bell ring.

Looking out on the street below, Dora saw the vehicle hurtling up the street. Horrified, Dora screamed while frantically waving to Pamela with both arms.

Down on the street, Pam waved with her left hand to her sister in the upstairs window. She quickly lost control of the handlebars and the bike violently swerved across the street, directly into the path of the oncoming delivery truck. Both bicycle and girl slid under the vehicle, which screeched to a halt.

Dora rushed out of the bedroom, bounding down the stairs, screaming.

... Dora, what is it? The mother heard the screen door fly open and slam against the door frame.

Back at Au Coquelet, tears welled up in Dora’s eyes over the retelling of this tragic moment in her life. I rode her bike earlier that day and noticed the handlebars weren’t tight. But I ignored it. Didn’t tell Dad. Or Pammy. Or fix the damn thing myself. Her moan ceased near bottom. Wobbly handlebars. Because of that I lost my best friend that day. Dora stared out the window, tears moistening her eyes. And I guess... I’ve just never gotten over it.

For the first time since she became emotional, she turned back to Ted, managing a tepid smile. She sighed. I don’t know how I ever let you talk me into doing this radio program, Ted. It’s so not me. Dora flicked the KPFA flyer with her middle finger.

Nelson readjusted in his seat and pointed his right index finger at the woman. You know who you are? The best damn archaeology grad student on the West Coast. That’s who.

Dora rejected such sweeping accolades with a head shake and a shrug. Ted refined the compliment. ... in all of NorCal. Still not buying it, a smile crept to the border of Dora’s lips.

Barrows Hall?

Dora rose from her chair and placed her purse inside the backpack.

C’mon. Don’t go yet... have another beer. On me.

Can’t. Gotta grade papers. T-A, remember? Dora cocked her head for effect and slid the chair under the table.

That reminds me – how you comin’ on your thesis?

Dora rolled her eyes in frustration followed by another head shake, suggesting she’s more than overwhelmed. Heading for the door, without looking back, she did a trumpet-wave with her fingers. See ya at next week’s show.

CHAPTER 2

Seated at the dining table, Dora read from a student paper, red pen poised for action. She removed her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. A short stack of graded papers sat to her left; a larger stack awaiting her attention on the right. She penned a note in the margin of the paper before her. A muffled voice in the hallway caused the pen to pause in midair.

Through an audible whisper, The Voice spoke her childhood nickname: Thea. Dora paused more intently, listening. Then she continued writing her note on the student paper. The Voice escalated its volume in pronouncing the name again: THAaa-uh.

Dora dropped the pen on the table. The Voice now commanded her attention. She looked around, hopeful.

Pammy. That you? Dora froze in her chair, silent. She expressed more enthusiasm this time, calling out, Pammy! Pamela is that you calling me?

Dora rose from the chair and entered the kitchen. She flipped on the light. A brief visual sweep of the room revealed nothing unusual. She returned to the front room and turned on the ceiling light. Again, nothing out of the ordinary appeared in her field of vision. From the hallway Dora slipped into the guest room. She called out her sister’s name without turning on the light. Pam? She flicked on the light switch in the guest room. Her shoulders slumped at the site of nothing unusual, except the plush unicorn twisted on the pillow. She nodded. Fine. Just fine.

Dora returned to the dining area. She paused next to the chair before sitting down once more. With red pen in hand she conducted a cursory review of the home from this vantage. After a moment, she returned to grading papers.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, students sat in a small classroom in Barrows Hall on the UC Berkeley campus. Professor Richard Jostens, a modest man in his mid-50s, was just concluding his lecture at the front of the room when he checked the clock above the door.

Okay, that’s it for today. Please hand in your papers to Miss Bulda on your way out. Don’t forget, we start the chapter on Ancient Sumeria next week.

Dora Bulda stood between the teacher’s desk and the open doorframe, collecting papers from students on their way out. After the final one exited, Jostens finished sliding into his jacket. Think that went well. At least no groans over the name ‘Sumeria.’ Dora ignored the quip. Remember last fall? Thought one of those girls was gonna deliver a bovine right in the aisle!

Dora nodded while stuffing the stack of papers in her backpack. Speakin’ of papers, have these by Monday, okay? Dora inhaled and summoned false bravado with eyebrows arched. Okay... Tuesday’s fine. Say, how you comin’ on your thesis?

Dora took a deep breath. Movin’ along. Yep. Well on the way.

Jostens groaned. You haven’t begun? Oh, Dora. Your dissertation meeting’s less than a month away!

Dora’s shoulders slouched as she crushed the final papers into the backpack. I’m well aware, Richard. It’ll be ready. Don’t you have a cow.

Dora’s smile from the corner of her mouth prompted the professor to gin up a grin as she walked out of the classroom.

DORA CLIMBED THE STAIRS to the second floor of Barrows Hall. Her office, on the west side of the building, was about one third of the way down the hall. Waiting next to her door was a student from the previous class, an African American woman.

I need to see you about my paper, Miss Bulda.

Dora inserted her key in the office door lock. You mean it’s not in this stack?

No, ma’am.

Dora entered the room and turned on the light switch. She dropped her backpack on the chair behind the desk, sat down on the desk’s front edge and gestured for the young