by Amira Rain
Now, though, I was actually allowing myself a tiny sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, my marriage could be more. I knew Jill probably hadn’t been designated Denton matchmaker for nothing; she probably had to be at least somewhat good at it. She’d also said she was a “demi-psychic,” whatever that was, and even though I’d never really believed in the supernatural, something made me believe that she did really have some kind of divination powers. Maybe it was just the fact that several years earlier, I wouldn’t have believed that animal shifters could ever possibly be a “thing,” germ weapon or not, but now they definitely were. Which made me think that anything was possible in this weird new world, like maybe even people with true psychic powers. Maybe two complete strangers falling in love was even possible. I couldn’t deny that there was something about a man who got “pissed” at the idea of someone stomping on a snake, and a man who carried hurt, scared dogs like little lambs, that I found incredibly appealing. I also found Jill’s description of Commander Wallace as “hot” to be incredibly appealing. I even found the simple fact that he was the leader of Denton to be incredibly appealing.
The following day, Kim and I went shopping for my wedding dress. Kim, who’d recently received a “Dear Kim” text from her boyfriend, rudely ending their relationship without even speaking to her face-to-face, was helpful in my dress search but unusually quiet all day. The same day I had, she’d also sent an application to Briarwood, but unlike I had, she’d received a polite emailed rejection, thanking her for her application but saying that unfortunately, “the committee,” which I now knew to be Jill, was unable to “match” her. I knew Kim was disappointed, so I tried not to be overly enthusiastic in my dress search so as not to rub in in her face in any way. This really wasn’t difficult to do because I’d developed a case of low-level nerves that prevented me from feeling much enthusiasm anyway. Although I still felt like I’d made a good choice to move forward in my life by volunteering to be a “population growth partner” in Denton, and although I really had been happy in the midst of my surprise when I’d been selected, I was now more anxious about it than anything. Jill had been exactly right that I wasn’t accustomed to “leaping” or taking chances of any kind. Part of me had always thought that this was possibly due to not wanting to incur my mom’s disapproval, even from afar, though another part of me wondered if I was just naturally the kind of person who played it safe. Yet another part of me didn’t even think it mattered anymore. No matter what kind of a person I’d been in the past, I was certainly taking a huge chance now.
After a couple of hours shopping with Kim, I finally found my dress. It was an ankle-length sheath made of cream-colored satin, with cap sleeves, a scoop neckline, and an inch-thick satin ribbon with a small, flat, horizontal bow at the top of an empire waistline. The overall look of it was one of modesty and simplicity, which I liked and felt comfortable with. I tended to dress fairly modestly and simply in my everyday life. I also liked the simplicity because I didn’t think a fancier or more elaborate dress would feel right to me for a marriage of convenience.
Surveying my form from head-to-toe when I stepped out of the changing room, Kim declared the dress to be “perfect,” her eyes widening. “And I really mean that…it’s your perfect dress, because it’s so you. It’s beautiful and classy, but still a little sexy, because it shows off your nice, hourglass-y curves. I think it’s a winner.”
Smiling, I turned my gaze from her to one of the many mirrors in the room, and just then, a saleslady came in and stopped short, her eyes just as wide as Kim’s. “Oh, my. That’s absolutely stunning on your figure. To me, that’s a winner.”
Smiling, I suddenly wondered what Commander Ryan Wallace, stern defender of snakes and dogs, might think of my dress and my figure. “I think I’ll take it.”
The following day, I received another email, this one from “the committee’s” email account, but written by Hillary Martinez alone.
Dear Miss Watson,
Please plan to arrive in Briarwood on the evening of May 1st. I’ve attached maps and detailed directions for every leg of your journey. Please know that you’ll need a passport to cross the bridge from Michigan into the FDS. They’ll be expecting you. When you reach a village called Hastings (marked on the map-the very northernmost FDS territory), please stop at the town hall and let them know who you are. They will assign you a dragon shifter “guard” who will fly over your car until you’re deep within Denton territory and near Briarwood. We have some Graywolf problems (they’re shifter wolves but with different abilities, and they’re not “our” shifter wolves), and obviously, we wouldn’t want you to be troubled by any of them on your way in. The dragon will make sure that you’re not.
Please let us know if you don’t have your own transportation, or if you don’t drive, and we will provide transportation or transportation plus a driver. Also, feel free to have all your possessions shipped to Briarwood whenever you like. All of your possession, except furniture unless something is very important to you, because Commander Wallace’s home is fully furnished. Whichever shipping or moving company you choose, please know that the committee will reimburse you for the expense. The moving company won’t be allowed to enter the FDS, so please tell them to deliver your things directly to the border guards at the bridge. They will see to it that your things arrive safely in Briarwood. Definitely please make sure that your name is written on each box you ship, and please let the committee know if you have any questions. Everyone in Briarwood is looking forward to your arrival.
Sincerely,
Hillary Martinez for the population growth partner selection committee
PS- I apologize for the overly-long email my sister sent to you. She’s very young (21), very friendly and bubbly, and at times, possibly a bit immature, which can possibly be a bit off-putting. I’m sorry if it was to you, or if you found her message to be unprofessional.
I immediately typed a return email, saying that I hadn’t minded Jill’s email at all and had, in fact, really liked and appreciated it. I then added that I did have my own car and would be driving myself to Briarwood. I look forward to meeting you, Hillary, and please call me Julia.
Not five minutes after I’d hit send, I got a response.
It’s really nice to “meet” you online, Julia, and sorry if my previous emails have been a little stiff. :-P As I’m sure you know, Denton is a brand-new nation; we have a lot to prove, and I’ve been working really hard to make this whole “population growth partner” operation be as professional as possible to show Americans that we’re “legit” (which we are). I really look forward to meeting you in person. -Hillary
Oh, by the way, despite all that she wrote, I noticed that Jill neglected to tell you that although you’ll be made a citizen of Denton at the time of your marriage, your American citizenship won’t be terminated immediately, just on the chance of things not working out here. I think that’s a pretty slim chance, though. My sister’s various talents and gifts have allowed her to become one heck of a matchmaker, and Briarwood is becoming a village filled with very happy brides.
I suddenly wanted to take off for Briarwood right that second, eager to meet Commander Wallace and see if it was actually possible that we might have some sort of romantic chemistry. But unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to find that out for four-and-a-half more weeks, and I had a feeling those weeks were going to drag.
They did. Even though the next month was a flurry of packing, shipping, and numerous tearful goodbye parties with my friends, my apartment building neighbors, the students I helped teach, and the teachers at my school, each day felt like a year. Particularly the day I called my mom to tell her that I was moving out of the United States, and why. Sounding stunned, she called my decision “foolish,” and asked me if I really wanted to “throw my life away” to “spit out a few kids” and “bake pies in some backwater shack up there in the wilds.”
Cutting off my response, my mom continued. “Even when it was the U.P, you
know it was mostly just a lot of untamed wilderness up there, don’t you? What makes you think it’s any different now?”
“What makes you think I want it to be any different? I like nature and wilderness, and the way I see it, a little village in the midst of beautiful, natural surroundings seems like a great place to raise-“
“Kids, chickens, goats for your own milk, or whatever other crazy things you want to raise up there. I get it, Julia. But-“
“Who said anything about chickens and goats? I’m assuming people in Denton get supplies shipped in from Canada or the FDS or somewhere. They have their own grocery store, and I’m sure it’s a nice little place with lots of-“
“Doesn’t matter. There’s no commerce up there, no industry…no way for a woman to really make her mark on the world.”
“Every single thing you just said is untrue; there’s actually a thriving logging industry in Denton, and as far as women and commerce specifically, I’ve been told that many women in Briarwood are entrepreneurs. In fact, I have been invited to start a candy business up there, if I want to.”
My mom scoffed. “A smart woman would do a market analysis on specialty candy shops in New York City. Then-“
“And by the way, even if a woman didn’t want to become an entrepreneur, what makes you think that a woman raising a family as her sole life’s work isn’t ‘making her mark on the world?’ I happen to think that being a mother is one of the most impactful, important jobs-“
“Maybe a hundred years ago, Julia. Things are different now. Women can pay to have other people look after their kids now.”
“Right, that’s an option, and I’m incredibly glad that women have options these days. I fully support women who choose to balance a career and family, but what about women who don’t need or want ‘other people’ to ‘look after’ their kids? What’s wrong with a woman wanting to work exclusively at home?”
“What’s wrong is that those women are unambitious losers.”
Deeply hurt and trying to control a little tremor in my voice, I responded as coolly as I could. “So you’ve said, Mom. Many times. Which is incredibly rude and-“
“Not to mention, why would you want to be married to one of those shifter wolves anyway? They’re probably all savages…probably all complete domineering brutes with cruel, abusive personalities. Is that what you want?”
“No, but I don’t think that’s how the men in Denton are. From what I’ve heard, they’re strong, kind, protective men. Some of them are even especially kind to animals. Specifically, some of them are especially kind to dogs and even snakes.”
“What? Look. Just promise me you’ll think all this over. Just-“
“No, Mom.”
She began getting increasingly combative and rude, and I soon hung up on her after telling her that I’d made up my mind and I was taking a leap, whether she liked it or not.
The following day, May first, not long after dawn, I drove out of the city of Pauli, Michigan, where I’d spent my entire life, and began speeding north.
*
It was only once I reached Briarwood, after a solid eleven hours of driving with few breaks, that I began to lose my nerve a bit. It wasn’t that the village wasn’t absolutely lovely, because it was. It was actually lovelier than I’d imagined it would be.
Tall trees with the bright green leaves of early spring lined a paved road simply called Main Street, which was filled with beautiful, sprawling homes of various styles, most of them on large tracts of land set back a good way from the street. A few people, all women, were out and about in their yards, and two women sitting on a wildflower-surrounded porch waved at me as I continued driving. I waved back, wondering if Commander Wallace’s home might have a porch surrounded by wildflowers, which I absolutely loved.
A little further up the street, after I’d passed a few intersecting dirt lanes that looked like they were also filled with houses, the residential area gave way to “downtown,” with a few two-story brick buildings, a few smaller one-story buildings, and several little shops. With a single stop sign and no stoplight, it certainly wasn’t much of a downtown, but I liked it right away; I found it charming. Heading into a small structure with a sign reading Jasmine’s Hometown Café on the tan siding, a group of three women waved at me, smiling, and I waved back, smiling in return despite the touch of anxiety I’d developed upon arriving in the village.
Just a short distance beyond the downtown, surrounded by tall trees, was a small parking lot and a long, low, brick-and-glass building with Briarwood Grocery printed on a large white sign above the entrance. Not knowing why, I followed a navy blue minivan into the parking lot, where it parked near two other vehicles already in the lot. I didn’t park, though. Muttering, I did a U-turn and pulled back out onto Main Street, determined not to let my nerves get the better of me and make me feel compelled to hide out in the grocery store or something, which I knew would just delay the inevitable. The inevitable of meeting Commander Wallace, which was what I wanted. So, it made no sense that my anxiety only increased as I continued up Main Street, soon making a right turn to drive down a fairly long dirt track called Evergreen Lane. I knew from one of Hillary’s maps that this nearly quarter-mile lane was a private one that connected with a circular driveway at the end. It was at the end that Hillary had marked HOME in all capital letters, but currently, I didn’t feel like I was coming home. I felt like I was waiting to get my wisdom teeth pulled.
As I’d thought I might, when I approached the circular loop of the driveway, I began questioning what I was doing, although questioning wasn’t even really a strong enough word for what I was doing. Maybe panicking was. I thought about how crazy it was to agree to marry a man and have a baby with him without even meeting him first. I thought about some of the things my mom had said. I wondered if it was too late for me to just turn my car around and forget the whole thing, retreating from my “life leap” as quickly as I’d decided to do it.
But then I saw the house. A massive, tree-flanked, white colonial with a wraparound porch; it was gorgeous, though it wasn’t the actual house that made my heart do a little stutter-step. It was the sight of wildflowers nearly blanketing the entire front lawn, providing pops of vivid color between young saplings and small piles of smooth decorative rocks in shades ranging from creamy, gray-toned white to dove gray, with many gradations in between. In the fading, yet still golden, light of early evening, I was even able to get a glimpse of the backyard just before I rolled into the driveway, and I saw that, like the front, it was filled with wildflowers, too, which stretched out for quite a distance before fading into the dense forestland.
I wasn’t sure about Commander Ryan Wallace, or how we’d get along, but I was officially in love with his house, specifically the wildflower-filled front and back yards. And, I decided, braking my car to a stop at the top of the driveway, I wasn’t going to just turn around and leave. I’d leaped too far to fall backward now, just because of a little case of nerves.
I’d just taken my keys out of the ignition when, to my surprise, a petite young woman with vibrant red hair just about leaped out of the front door of the house. She then literally leaped over the two porch steps, waving, followed by a taller, brunette young woman who was simply walking calmly across the porch to the steps, not leaping. Smiling a bit in the direction of my car, the brunette woman appeared to be around my age, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and for some reason, I just knew who she was. I also just knew who her leaping, red-haired companion was. Jill and Hillary had decided to greet me at Commander Wallace’s house. Surprised for the second time that minute, I realized I was incredibly grateful. So grateful, in fact, that I felt a small amount of moisture welling in my eyes while I got out of the car.
Before saying hello, Jill wrapped me in a bear hug. “You’re going to love it here. Just you wait and see. All your dreams are going to come true.”
Smiling, I nodded into Jill’s shoulder, glad I was wearing sunglasses, which hid my incre
asingly misty eyes.
Once she’d squeezed me tightly for a few more seconds, patting my back, Jill released me and smiled. “I’m Jill, by the way, in case you were wondering who was hugging you.”
Smiling in return, I stifled a chuckle. “I know. I somehow guessed.”
With her jewel-green eyes twinkling, she cocked her head to the side a degree, as if thinking. “Or…you’re a demi-psychic, like me.”
I laughed, amused but dubious, but before I could respond, Hillary, who’d long since reached us, extended her hand to me, smiling.
“I’m Hillary. It’s nice to finally meet you, Julia.”
She had the same beautiful emerald-green eyes that Jill did, and I was slightly envious. My own eyes didn’t really have a set color, as strange as that was. In certain lights, they looked greenish-hazel-ish; in other lights, they definitely looked blueish. Once, when getting my driver’s license renewed, the lady behind the counter had looked up from the form to my face, then had peered at me for several seconds, frowning, before speaking. “Well, are your eyes green or blue? Well, hold on…move your face a degree to your right like that again. Are they light brown?” Wishing that my eyes could just “decide” what they were one way or the other, I’d eventually told the lady to please just put hazel on the form.
Once I’d shook Hillary’s hand, telling her it was nice to finally meet her, too, Jill spoke again.