by H. E. Trent
“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was practically a whisper, sleepy and sated. She’d perhaps stopped thinking about government things for the time being, though that had been only half his goal.
“You said you didn’t care if I was with Headron. I would appreciate you being honest with me.”
“This isn’t going to work, Esteben. We’ve all known that from the start.”
“What are you talking about?” He rolled her onto her back, and she immediately closed her eyes and draped an arm across them.
“I mean, I’m glad you and Headron have started working out your differences, but I just don’t see how a trio could work between the three of us.”
He pulled her arm away from her face.
She didn’t open her eyes, but at least he’d removed one layer from between him and her. She had to know that she couldn’t hide from him.
“Who is putting these thoughts into your head? Fastida? Someone in town?” He gave her a little shake to try to get her to open her eyes, but she didn’t. “Murki, perhaps? Is this his idea of retribution for me not easily accepting Trigrian?”
“Oh, so that’s why you two are so curt with each other. And, no. This has nothing to do with anyone except me.”
“Are you so fickle?”
“No,” she said emphatically. She sat up and pinned a glower on him. “I’m not the slightest bit fickle. McGarrys are loyal. Once we get attached, you don’t have to worry about us leaving you in the lurch. We stay stuck to the people who want to stick with us.”
“And you do not want to stick with me? Or Headron?”
“I never said that.”
“That is apparently what you’re insinuating. You’re trying to distance yourself from a connection, and I’m trying to understand why. Your reasoning is…bullshit.”
“Bullshit or not, here’s the thing, Esteben. We’re not a trio. Okay? This whole mess started because I couldn’t say no to Headron. He needed a warm female body to cuddle with, and he was so sweet about asking, and I know how hard that is for you guys.”
“So you don’t wish to be with him. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No!” She shouted. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Stop trying to read between the lines when I haven’t written anything there. I adore Headron. He’s a good man and he tolerates my moods better than anyone I’ve ever met. I hate what I’m doing to him. I fucking hate it, okay?”
Alas, she cracks.
“Erin.” He grabbed her hands and kissed the undersides of her wrists. “You flighty little bird, you sound like this is over, when it’s barely even begun. If your reluctance doesn’t have to do with Headron, is it about me? Does nothing about me suit you other than my cock?”
“Oh, shut up.” She rolled onto all fours and then sat back on her heels. She stared at the sky for a minute, and he let her without interrupting.
If she needed to gather her thoughts, he wouldn’t interfere. He wanted every word that came out of her mouth to be an honest one. He’d gotten so used to Shaid’s glib, hurtful prevarications. Though Erin might have been something of a fibber, she lied to herself more than to anyone else. Unlike with Shaid, he wouldn’t hesitate to make her own her lies. He’d heal her of them, just like she’d been there to rouse him from his mania.
“I guess this was easier for me,” she said softly, “when I thought there was no way in hell you and Headron would be able to get along. This was easier when I thought that he was going to go through a matchmaker to find some guy. I’d already told him that if his new lover didn’t get along with me, I’d graciously bow out so they could find some woman who suited them both.”
“You are a fool, Erin.”
“Shut up. This is my story.”
“That may be so, but I’m finding that my restraint from taking offense is dangerously low right now.”
“You don’t have the right to be offended.”
“Don’t I? I humbled myself for you. I forced myself out of that cottage be—”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“No, you didn’t, but I needed to. I needed…people. I needed you as much as Headron did, just not in the same way.”
“Esteben, I—”
“No, my turn to talk.” He had to speak his mind, and not just hiss at her. He needed her to understand that he needed her for the things that had to come next in his life—the woman bold enough to kick him hard in the nuts and who took care of him even when he didn’t deserve tenderness.
“I don’t recognize this planet anymore,” he said. “The culture has changed completely.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent.”
“We’ve already had this argument. Several days ago in bed, yes? Well, you don’t get to decide for us what we’re willing to compromise on. In my opinion, Headron and I have been excellent volunteers.”
“Because you’re…desperate.”
“Do you still maintain that? Really?”
He didn’t believe her. Her words had sounded like a question, not a statement of fact.
“If we were desperate, we’d solicit Fastida, in spite of her being what your people call a lesbian.”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to make up lies to bolster your argument. She’s not.”
“Is lesbian not the word for women who like women?”
“How could you possibly know what she is? Did you try to come on to her?”
“I have absolutely no reason to. It’s apparent to me, and probably half the household, that Fastida is enamored of Emania, however I do not believe the sentiment is returned. Fastida will never say anything. She’ll just pine from afar, as Jekhan women tend to do on the rare occurrence such attractions happen. Perhaps she’ll take a couple of lovers and have some children. She’ll have a perfectly typical Jekhan trio with two men she never has to see. She’ll seclude herself in her own little cottage until she gets tired of her circumstances, and then she’ll leave, and everyone would have already seen the departure coming, because our women are very good at leaving.”
Erin stared down at her hands, and wrung them.
“Erin…” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and skated the pad of his thumb across the curls at her hairline.
“I can’t do this. The guilt—you don’t understand, Esteben. You don’t know what it feels like to come to a place and to be in an undeserved position of privilege. I didn’t come to Jekh for that. I came here to rescue the sister who didn’t even need my rescuing. I didn’t come to stay. I didn’t come to make a job for myself in a government I should have no say in. I didn’t come here to…to fall for a couple of men I should have fucking left alone.”
He put his palms to her cheeks and dragged his thumb across her lips. He wanted to see her frown go away. She had no reason to frown.
“We didn’t ask to be left alone,” he said, “and I’d venture to guess that you’re somewhat tardy in seeking to abdicate your connection to us.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we’ve chosen to have you.”
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “God, Esteben. That’s not enough.”
“Our bodies say it is.”
“That’s not enough.”
“Wanting you as the mother of our children isn’t enough? If not, then please tell me what the fuck is.”
“Children? I…” She picked up the jaw that had fallen and closed her mouth.
“Have you forgotten that children are the point of all the frustration we’ve endured? And hoping that every new generation is a little more hardy and thrives better than their parents did?”
“I haven’t thought of being anyone’s mother. I—I mean, shit. All this time, maternity has been pushed way back into some inaccessible file cabinet in my brain. Of course, I see Court every day with Kerry and her belly round with another, but I never imagine myself in the same position. I never did even back on Earth.”
“Why not?”
<
br /> She shrugged. “Maybe because we just had things so hard. I mean, we kids were pariahs, and that was the hand we were dealt, but we weren’t born like that. Most of the friends we had before all the shit with granddad went down stuck around, but a new McGarry? What kind of trouble would he or she have? They’d be starting at ground zero, and that scares the hell out of me. I didn’t let myself think about kids too much, even with me being on the other side of twenty-five and needing to think about making my own little family unit.”
“Perhaps you should give maternity some thought. While you’re at it, consider what I said. We need stronger children, not more of the same.”
She seemed to ponder that, chewing on a corner of her lip and furrowing her brow.
“Do you understand me, Erin? Do you understand that for a number of reasons, me having a Jekhan mate would be less than ideal?”
She rubbed her eyes and let out a long, ragged breath. “Intellectually, I have no problem processing that. I look at Geno and kids like him and I see that they’re healthy and fine and that their parents adore them, but logic doesn’t always trump emotion. It doesn’t always overcome fear or guilt. Those things are hard to extinguish.”
“You’ll try, though.”
“I’ll think about it. I just…tell me again what you’re asking me. What do you want from me?”
“First and foremost, I want you to come to me willingly. That’s always been the case, but I believe your volunteerism is even more critical now.”
She dragged her fingers across a rough patch in the blanket and worked her lips from one side to the other. “What else?”
“Obviously, I’d want you to bear my child.”
Her brow creased very briefly—more like a flinch than the start of a scowl. “And what else?”
“Generally, those would be the only expectations a Jekhan man would have for a potential female mate, but I believe we must adapt to the conditions of the time. We all must make concessions. We all need to live together at the very least until my and Headron’s hormones settle. Given my age, I’d have to do that sooner than later in spite of the fact I’d prefer later.”
“And how does Headron feel about that?”
“I will ask him. I doubt he will have objections having already spent many nights in your bed.”
“But when is he going to spend one in yours? Or did he already while I was away?”
“The discussion at hand is about you,” Esteben snapped. He was being evasive, and he knew it, but he wasn’t waiting on any particular impetus to push his relationship with Headron further. He hadn’t felt any drive to move faster than they had been, and as much as he tried to convince himself that circumstances with Headron wouldn’t end in the same sort of disappointment and betrayal he’d had with Shaid, he was wary.
He did have a heart, after all.
And a brain. Use it.
If he were really the leading male he made himself out to be, he needed to act like one. Erin needed structure, and Headron was waiting on Esteben to set their pace.
Do I want to?
He knew he did. He couldn’t come up with a single compelling reason not to push for the structure he needed, and the permanence.
Children would create permanence.
He lifted Erin’s chin and waited for her to look at him. “This is important.”
“What?”
“You won’t take any additional lovers. Promise me.”
The request seemed to perplex her, given the scrunch of her pretty features and her delay in response.
“Tell me you won’t, Erin.”
“I… Additional?” Her jaw hung open for a few seconds, and then, narrowing her eyes, she curled her top lip. “Some people might say that two is already one too many.”
“It isn’t uncommon on Jekh for a woman to coddle a young lover after she’s fulfilled her duties to the trio.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“A custom derived from necessity, I assure you. Necessity or not, I’d strongly prefer that you practice the fidelity of your own culture.”
“And what about you?”
“Me? I’m not a young man who would be so forgiving of the embarrassment I’ve been caused. I refuse to be made a fool again.”
Her mouth formed a silent “O” again that she quickly closed.
Of course she didn’t know about Shaid. Headron had held his tongue on the matter, a testament to his discretion.
“Don’t pity me for my past lovers, and I’ll not query about yours. Agree?”
She nodded slowly.
“And when the time comes…” He traced the shape of her lips with his index finger. “You’ll relinquish your position in the Gitanan government to me. You’ll act as my proxy for the time being. Your seat will effectively be mine. Yours is a very important position.”
“Yeah, I’d say that’d be the case, and that’s why I didn’t want it.”
He ignored the hostility in her tone. He’d expected some, and understood why she’d be suspicious of him, but he was simply trying to take a burden from her. That was part of his job—managing her stress, because she’d hold onto it otherwise and she didn’t have to.
“You worry about your entanglement and the changing tides on Jekh,” he said. “I’m offering you a means of coping. I’ll do the work through you, and you won’t have to assuage your conscience later about having insinuated yourself into an institution you didn’t have the heart to be in.”
“And you’d get to claim back some of the prestige of your class, right?”
He shrugged. “I admit my motives are multitudinous. I do wish to rebuild the network I once had. I wish to support myself and my family in the manner in which I was proficient. I’m not a farmer. Perhaps Murk is more adaptable than I am. I’ll concede that. I envy my younger brother, in fact, for how intelligently he’s navigated all these changes. I’m not so flexible, and I’m sorry. When circumstances stabilize, I wish to resume my former occupation. Is that so wrong?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.” Her voice was tearful, and her tanned cheeks flushed. “You’re more vested than I am,” she whispered.
“Shhh. Equally vested, however one of us is more willing to do the job you’ve been called to do. Let me do it, Erin. Say you agree to everything I’ve asked of you, and we’ll move forward. No more quibbling. No more backsliding.”
She found the end of her sweater’s drawstring and fondled the frayed threads. Another one of her tells. She fidgeted when she didn’t have words.
He let her fidget. He couldn’t let his drive influence her, when more than anything he wanted her acquiescence to be cheerful and voluntary.
She dropped the string and cleared her throat. “Should we be having this discussion without Headron?”
“I believe he’ll accept whatever I decide.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“That’s the way of things in Jekhan trios, and I believe I’m leading this one.” It was his turn to pick up the drawstring. He danced the end of it under her chin.
She smiled rather than withdrew.
“Some traditions shouldn’t be tampered with,” he said.
“You’re head of the household. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No. You are. The woman always is until she leaves, though passively. Is that not why we’re negotiating? Or are you waiting for further convincing that you’re meant for this?”
“This?”
“Jekh, kham.”
He called her “sun,” because she was life. She’d roused him, like some long-sleeping plant below the soil, and made him angry enough to fight again.
And maybe love again.
She stared down at the palm of her right hand for a long while before curling her fingers over it. “Let me think. Okay?”
“Of course. No fibs, Erin.”
She swallowed. Nodded.
His kham didn’t know how to say yes. She didn’t know how to receive good things, an
d so he’d wait. A slow “yes” was a far better thing than a permanent McGarry “no.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Damn it.” Headron gave the oven a hard kick, but the motor didn’t catch. The appliance had been staggering in and out of functionality since the storm had ended. He’d known for months that maintenance would be needed soon, but he’d hoped the oven would hold out until the secondary unit had been installed. They simply hadn’t had time to run the vents.
“Shit,” he spat and yanked the connector out of the wall. They were going to have to move it to service the back side, anyway, so there was no point in keeping the power flow on.
The creaky door that led out to the back garden whined. A moment later, Esteben stepped in carrying one of his large, marked-up maps.
Headron’s breath expelled in an involuntary rush as Esteben closed the door. That seemed to happen every time the man got near, which fortunately wasn’t often. Esteben spent long hours in the office making lists, marking maps, and trying to get calls out to old contacts on the COM. Headron had always been wary of interrupting him.
A month ago, I wouldn’t have wanted to be near him.
“I could hear the sounds of your frustration all the way from the office, Headron.”
“I can’t bake without an oven,” Headron groused.
Esteben raised one pale eyebrow. “I don’t believe there’s a shortage of bread here. My brother’s industrious mate has enough frozen that she could probably fill a large well.”
“But I have all this dough that needs to be baked, and all this—”
“There are other ways of baking, are there not, if you insist that you must? Over fire, perhaps?”
“I could, but I lack finesse in cooking evenly using that method. My uncle was far better at cooking over flame.”
His uncle was half the reason for his agitation. He wanted to tell himself it was just about the oven, but his uncle’s continued absence disturbed him more. He was giving serious consideration to leaving the farm for a while to trace the man’s journey. He’d turn into a ghost like Herris, coming and going whenever he had some new lead to hunt down, or even when he had none at all and just had to be trying.