Identity Crisis

by Sarah Ettritch

  IDENTITY CRISIS

  Rymellan Story 19

  Sarah Ettritch

  Published by Norn Publishing at Smashwords

  Copyright 2013 Sarah Ettritch

  All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, except for brief quotations in articles or reviews, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, Licensing Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Marg Gilks (editor) and Jennifer Brinkman (beta reader). Thanks also to Patty Henderson, for allowing me to use her art on the cover.

  CONTENTS

  Conception

  Discovery

  Dilemma

  Reflection

  CONCEPTION

  Jayne sipped her juice and surveyed the guests mingling in the living room. Despite knowing most of them, she felt more comfortable watching rather than socializing, though she no longer tensed when somebody headed her way. Of course, here in her own home, nobody looked down their nose at her. When she left the estate, most C3 residents treated her politely, but a few had made it clear that they’d prefer not to have an Adams in their midst. Well, she’d known that a name change wouldn’t erase the past, and seeing Carol coming toward her reminded Jayne that a handful of disgruntled C3ers weren’t the only ones who still held her responsible for her parents’ crimes.

  Carol grinned. “I just saw Susan. She’s gorgeous, and good-natured. I wish my daughter was the same. If Rachel had so many visitors cooing at her, she’d be screaming her head off.”

  “You said you had new images.”

  “Right.” Carol pulled out her comm unit. “Here.”

  Jayne peered at Carol and Ronald’s daughter. “She has more hair,” she said, keeping her voice even. It wasn’t Carol’s fault that Jayne could only snatch time with Rachel when Ronald’s parents wouldn’t find out. In fact, Carol was risking their wrath by letting Jayne see her.

  “Mo said she’ll fly you over next week, if you like,” Carol said. “We should be able to find a time that will work.”

  “Is Mo upstairs with Susan?” Jayne asked as she handed back Carol’s comm unit.

  Carol nodded.

  Susan wasn’t Mo’s first niece or nephew, but Mo was entranced by her. Was it the name? Worried that Mo might not be ready for another “Susan Middleton,” Neil and Barbara had spoken to her before submitting the name to the Chosen Council.

  “It’s like a Learning Academy up there,” Carol said. “Or a Level One Indoctrination Academy group.” She gave Jayne a sly look. “Those empty bedrooms are filled right now, but when will they be permanently occupied?”

  “I don’t know,” Jayne said casually.

  “You’ve been Joined for a year. You must be considering a daughter by now.”

  A year. Jayne’s eyes went to the “Happy First Joining Year” banner stretched across one of the living room’s walls. She could hardly believe it, and yes, they were discussing having their first child. But she’d stayed out of it as much as possible, especially during the conversations about who would carry the baby. It wouldn’t be her, and though she’d love Lesley and Mo’s daughters and consider them her own—according to the Chosen Tradition, they would be hers—she felt uncomfortable offering them her opinion about anything related to having a child.

  She hated to admit it, but a tiny part of her worried that a daughter would bond Lesley and Mo together in a way that would never happen with her. That was already true; they’d been together for years before the Chosen Council had forced another woman into their lives. But that was precisely her worry: would a daughter be a constant reminder of “that other Chosen” they could have done without? Would they resent her presence, her participation, her rights over their child? Your child. You can’t think that way. She’ll be your child, too. And knowing her Chosens, they’d do everything they could to ensure that Jayne felt like a third mama, not a third wheel.

  It wasn’t Lesley and Mo, it was her. The last year had been the best year of her life. Oh, she’d experienced ups and downs, especially as she and Lesley had grown into more than friends. For a couple of months, Jayne hadn’t known from one day to another whether Mo was talking to her, and the triad had shared more tense suppers than she cared to remember. Would they ever live harmoniously with no jealousy, no envy, no tendency to interpret a kindness toward one Chosen as a slight to the other? They were getting better at it. In twenty years, they’d look back and laugh at themselves, or at least she hoped they would.

  The prospect of a daughter shouldn’t make her feel so insecure about her place in their lives, but Adams was still a part of her name. She’d been happy once before, until the military had burst into the house and destroyed her innocence. Life could change in an instant. Sometimes one didn’t see it coming. Other times... She sighed.

  “Sorry, are you getting asked about children all the time now?” Carol’s brow crinkled. “I bet Lesley’s parents keep bringing it up.”

  “Not to me.” Adelaide occasionally hinted at the subject during the weekly family suppers, but that was all. If she was applying pressure, she was doing it to the two people who counted. “They know there’s no point bugging me about it.”

  “Wait until it’s your turn.”

  “I’m not having children—biological children.”

  Carol snorted. “You’ll change your mind.”

  “No, I won’t. And trust me, Lesley’s parents won’t be pressuring her to have a child with me.”

  “What about you and Mo? The Middletons aren’t as uptight. Michael’s fond of you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If Mo and I were to have a daughter, she’d still have the Thompson name.”

  Carol chortled. “I guess Adelaide wouldn’t be too thrilled about that.”

  Jayne nodded, even though it wasn’t Adelaide’s reaction to the idea that would concern her—hypothetically speaking. It was Lesley’s. She was as protective of the Thompson family’s reputation as her mama and would balk at the notion of a child without Thompson blood bearing the name. Maybe she’d eventually come around to the idea, but it was moot anyway. Jayne had no intention of having a daughter who’d be vilified and shunned, corrupted by the Adams’ taint before she could walk.

  Maybe that was another reason Jayne felt ambivalent about Lesley and Mo having a child. Would their daughter be painted with the same ugly brush because of Jayne’s presence in her life? Their daughter would be her daughter, and she’d love her, and cherish her, and feel guilty about being associated with her, and lie awake at night wondering whether her daughter would still love her when she realized that the Adamses stumbling around on the stage at the Festival of the Way were her third mama’s parents.

  At least she’d be able to defend herself by saying that no Adams blood ran through her veins. And that was why Jayne would never, ever have a biological child. She wouldn’t blemish the Thompson line with Adams blood, and the Thompsons would never have to accept a child who had their name, but not their ancestry.

  *****

  Mo sank into the chair with a tired sigh and
relished the silence. She enjoyed parties, but after two celebratory family suppers, a surprise lunch on 72, and tonight’s gathering for family and friends, she needed a break. “That needs taking down,” she said, pointing to the banner hanging above the sofa.

  Les gave her a look, then stood on the sofa and started to pull out the pushpins securing one end of the banner.

  “I’ll get the other end,” Jayne said.

  Watching them, Mo wanted to burst. She’d planned to wait until tomorrow, but since they were both here... “Let’s have a daughter,” she blurted. “Enough talk. Let’s do it.”

  They stopped what they were doing and turned to her.

  “I’ll carry the baby.”

  “I thought you weren’t sure,” Les said, as Jayne turned back to the banner. “Last time we talked about it, you didn’t like the idea of not flying for months.”

  She didn’t. But demanding that Les carry the baby would be selfish; she’d become a commander less than a year ago. Getting pregnant shouldn’t hamper Les’s rise through the ranks, but why risk it? They didn’t need two stalled military careers—not that Mo cared all that much about being grounded anymore, especially if they were going to have a daughter. The planet would be a better place for her than a ship like the Falcon, at least during her formative years. “It’ll make more sense for me to do it, and I’m okay with that.” She glanced at Jayne, hoping for support, but Jayne was focused on the banner.

  “Why the sudden enthusiasm?” Les asked.

  “Sudden enthusiasm? We’ve been discussing it for the last flaming month. Do you want a daughter, or not?”

  “Of course I do.” Les’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just wondering if spending half the night with Susan and the rest of the children has anything to do with it. Maybe you won’t be as enthusiastic about carrying the baby tomorrow.”

  Gently holding her newest niece’s hand had chased away Mo’s remaining doubts. What were they waiting for? She gestured toward the banner. “We’ve been Joined a year. Even if I were to get pregnant tomorrow—and I can’t—it’ll be nine months before we have a daughter. As my papa would say, it’s time to get on with it. What do you think, Jayne?”

  Jayne glanced over her shoulder. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

  Mo met Les’s eyes and shook her head. “I’ll set up an appointment at the Reproductive Technology Centre. For all three of us.”

  Jayne’s end of the banner came free. Still hanging onto it, she dropped the last pushpin into the bowl holding the others, then handed her end of the banner to Les. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  Mo’s hands involuntarily clenched as she watched Jayne kiss Les good night. But she was getting better. Her fingernails no longer made her palms bleed, and she knew she’d have her turn. When Jayne leaned in, Mo reached for her. “Good night,” she murmured, after receiving her own soft kiss. She waited until a door closed upstairs, then lowered her voice and said, “Do you ever get the feeling that she doesn’t want us to have a child?”

  Les pulled the banner away from the wall, sat on the sofa, and motioned for Mo to sit next to her.

  “I mean, every time we’ve talked about it, she says do whatever you want to do, or leaves,” Mo said as she crossed to the sofa and plunked onto it.

  Les rolled up the banner. “It’s not unusual for her to defer to us.”

  “I know, but we’re not talking about what to have for supper. We’re talking about having a flaming baby.”

  “I don’t think it’s because she doesn’t want us to have a daughter. I’m not sure what it is, but I don’t think it’s that.” Les leaned forward and set the rolled up banner at her feet. “Maybe she’s worried that she’ll be left out.”

  “We’re going to include her every step of the way. We’ll all be having a daughter. She’ll be as much Jayne’s as ours.” Didn’t Jayne realize that she’d be the one caring for the baby when her two Chosens were on duty? She’d probably spend more time with their daughter than Les would.

  “She’ll be our biological daughter, though.”

  “Does she think that every time we look at her, we’ll think, ‘There’s my biological daughter, but not Jayne’s’?” Mo patted Les’s knee. “It’s not as if you’ll have much more to do with her conception than Jayne will.”

  Les rounded on her, open-mouthed. “It’ll be my DNA.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t actually have to do anything. The Chosen Council already has your DNA. The Reproductive Technology Centre prepares it. Jayne can pick up and use the impregnators,” Mo said, ticking off each point with her fingers.

  “And it’ll be my DNA,” Les said, her eyes dancing. She tapped Mo’s nose. “I know what you’re saying, but we’re not in her position. Give her time. Once we start the process, she’ll see that she’s going to be as much this baby’s mama as we are.”

  Mo hoped so, because once she was pregnant, they’d be having a baby, whether Jayne liked it or not.

  Around four months later

  Lesley landed her aviacraft in the Reproductive Technology Centre’s holding area and took a deep breath. While dealing with same-oriented female Chosens was routine for the physicians and scientists at the centre, Lesley couldn’t help but cringe at what felt like an invasion of her privacy, and this was only her second visit to the facility. Mo was the one who’d undergone the physical examination, the psychological evaluation, and reported her menses for the past three months...all in preparation for today. It was time for Lesley to do her meagre part.

  With a sigh, she swung open the door to the centre’s waiting area and relaxed at the sight of all the empty chairs. The receptionist smiled. “Right on time, Commander Thompson. Just go through to Room B. Physician Crawford is ready to see you.”

  “Thank you,” Lesley murmured. She strode down the corridor and knocked on Room B’s open door, then forced a smile when Crawford invited her into the office.

  Crawford waited while Lesley shut the door and sank into one of the guest chairs. “This is the first impregnator,” she said, placing her hand on the small box sitting on her desk. “I know it’s inconvenient, having to come here four days in a row, but they’re only good for twelve hours. The expiration time is stamped on the box and the impregnator itself. If you use it after that point, no harm done, but the possibility of conception will be minuscule. After today, you won’t have to see me. Just ask at the desk and they’ll fetch that day’s impregnator. Did you watch the instructional video?”

  Lesley crossed her legs. “Yes.”

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “No.”

  “Instructions are inside the box, as a reminder.” Crawford clasped her hands on the desk. “Now, don’t be disappointed if conception doesn’t occur during this first round. It’s not uncommon to require several rounds. We don’t worry about it until six rounds haven’t resulted in a pregnancy. If it goes a year, Mo will have to come in for a thorough examination, but we won’t worry about that yet.”

  “What do you do at six months?” Lesley asked, not wanting Crawford to think that she was being quiet because she was too embarrassed to ask anything.

  “We’ll have you and Mo, and Jayne, so she’s included, come in, so we can review how you’re using the impregnators, just to make sure you’re following the instructions.”

  Lesley cringed at the thought. Mo was young and healthy; hopefully an awkward interrogation at the six-month mark wouldn’t be required.

  “Do you have any other questions?” Crawford asked.

  “No.”

  Crawford picked up the box and leaned over her desk to hand it to Lesley. “In that case, I wish the three of you a positive outcome.”

  “Thank you,” Lesley said, pleased that the centre was going out of its way to involve Jayne. Nobody had blinked when the triad had arrived for the initial consultation, and three guest chairs had sat in front of Crawford’s desk, apparently not the usual arrangement, since there were only two now. When L
esley had mentioned to Laura that they had an appointment at the centre, Laura had sent its personnel a reminder about how triads were treated under the Chosen Tradition. Perhaps knowing that a commodore who also happened to be the sector’s acting commander was watching had made a difference.

  Half an hour later, Lesley strode into the triad’s living room and held up the box. “Here it is.”

  Mo rested her violin on her lap. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

  “I was only in the physician’s office for five minutes.”

  “Five minutes?” Mo squeaked. “Compared to what I’ve gone through...” She held out her hand.

  Lesley gave her the box. “Where’s Jayne?”

  “In the kitchen,” Mo said. “Jayne!” She peered at the box in her hand. “Jayne!” she yelled again.

  Footsteps clattered down the hallway. Jayne stopped in the living room archway. “What?”

  “I picked up the impregnator,” Lesley said. “It’s good for around twelve hours.”

  Mo handed the box back to Lesley. “There’s four, right?” she said as she placed her violin into its case.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t forget, I’m on 72 in three days.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll come to you.”

  “I don’t have to be there for this,” Jayne said. “I—I mean, it’s up to you whether—”

  Mo’s face tightened; she drew breath. Lesley placed a warning hand on Mo’s shoulder. “Of course we want you there,” she said evenly. Why did Jayne keep begging them to exclude her? Lesley was certain that if they told Jayne to stay in her own room tonight, she’d be upset, and this morning, she’d seemed excited that the first impregnator would be ready today. What was she wrestling with that made her run hot and cold about having a daughter? “Why don’t we go for a walk after supper and then have an early night?”