She made a humming noise in her throat. Her mother had been gone for over thirteen years now. While her memories were fading and getting fuzzy at the edges, she remembered her mom’s smile and her long hair that always seemed to be tangled from the wind. She doubted she’d ever forget those details.
“That was the past. Those kits are gone,” Talen said. His hands stroked the length of her arm, warming her in the chilly evening air.
“Don’t you ever wonder what your life would be like if you could go back? If you had never left?”
“That is a cruel game to play. What purpose does it serve other than to make myself miserable?”
She gave a thin smile. That cruel game had always been one of her favorites, imagining the life she had if her father never abandoned his family, or if her mother beat cancer and lived. Sometimes she had even fantasized about what it would have been like to have been adopted when she was a teenager and in foster care. “I suppose you’re right. That person wouldn’t be you, and I’m pretty damn fond of this version of you.”
“You carry my heart.” His lips caught hers and the kiss deepened to last for always. “My future is here, with you.”
Chapter 22
Georgia
G,
Customs on this planet is crazy. You’d think a bag of coffee beans was a controlled substance. Okay, technically it’s a “mild stimulant” but it’s just coffee. I had the pleasure of paying exorbitant fees. But hey, I got a sticker slapped on my coffee bag, so let’s count that as a win.
-Freema
* * *
“Looks like someone is eager to meet the world. The kit is early but healthy. I predict an easy labor,” Belith said. Her cheeks had a glow which indicated sincerity. Nice to know the doctor didn’t feed her meaningless bull.
Georgia clenched her eyes closed as a contraction rolled through her. Nothing about the last two weeks felt easy. Her back hurt, her ankles swelled up like balloons and she had to pee all the damn time. The spring weather went from cool and damp to hot and sticky in the blink of an eye. She hadn’t been comfortable in so long she had forgotten what that felt like. Had she ever slept an entire night without a pee break every two hours? A solid night’s sleep felt like a lifetime ago and she wouldn’t be getting rest anytime soon.
“Why is it so hot in here?” Sweat collected in the small of her back. The medical clinic should have air conditioning. The house's unreliable cooling system seemed to only make things marginally cooler but never cold. Never not sticky.
Talen shoved an ice chip in her mouth and handed her a glass of melted ice water and ice chips. “I will inquire about the temperature.”
“Don’t you dare leave me here,” she said, grabbing his hand, which she promptly dropped. “Gah, it’s too hot to touch. You’re a fucking furnace. Go away.” She sloshed the near-empty tumbler. “And I need more ice.”
He gave the doctor a pleading look. “When will the kit arrive?”
“Soon.”
Not soon enough.
“You have not yet fully dilated.” Belith arranged the paper blanket over Georgia’s legs. “We will continue to monitor.”
More waiting. She was so ready for this to be over.
“Can you just take the baby out? I changed my mind. I don’t want to do natural childbirth.”
“We can perform emergency surgery if you or the baby are in distress,” Belith said with a smile.
“But not because this is hell and I’m tired,” Georgia replied.
The blue-skinned doctor gave her a pat on the arm. “Soon this will be over, you’ll forget all the unpleasantness and you’ll be planning your next child.”
Not likely.
“We will name the next kit Endeavor,” Talen said with a nod.
“Unless you’re going to carry it yourself, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Georgia snapped. Another baby. What the hell was he smoking? She still had the first one wedged up in her like a watermelon in a tube sock.
“Have some more ice.” Talen pressed another ice chip to her lips.
“Have you decided on a name?” Belith asked conversationally, sitting down near the bed like she was visiting a friend and not, you know, delivering a baby.
“Yes. Persistence Marie,” Talen said, obvious pride in his voice.
“Like the books?”
“Yes!” He launched into a detailed explanation of how they had been reading the books, which had always been his favorite as a kit, and could not agree on any name…
Georgia tuned him out. She didn’t care about anything other than the watermelon up her tube sock and her current state of utter anguish. Oh, and getting the watermelon out. That was relevant to her interests.
Another contraction broke her from her spiral of misery with a fresh slash of pain.
Belith grinned and nodded. “Soon,” she said.
“You’ve been saying that for an hour,” Georgia grumbled, accepting another ice chip. She narrowed her eyes at her amber-striped husband, unsure if he was being supportive and attending to her needs, or shoving ice in her face to keep her from complaining.
“The kit will be here soon, my heart.” Another ice chip. “You have never looked more lovely.” Another. “You’ve made me the happiest male in the universe, my heart.”
Yup. Totally trying to keep her from yelling at him.
Voices rose in the corridor.
“Let me in!”
“Only family is allowed,” Belith said, blocking the door.
“Well, I am family and I’m her personal physician, now get out of my way.”
Georgia knew that voice and had desperately missed her friend over the last year. Joyful tears leaked at the corners of her eyes. Talen dapped at them with a tissue and murmured soft words of comfort.
“I have been treating this female for six months. I am her physician,” Belith argued.
“Then I guess we’re coworkers. Dr. Freema Jones. Now step aside.”
Freema strode into the room, a laminate ID badge hanging around her neck, and dragging a suitcase behind her.
“You look terrible,” Georgia said, struggling to sit up comfortably. She grimaced at her sore abdomen and complaining back.
“Humanity can travel the stars, but airports still suck balls.” Freema brushed back the hair from Georgia’s forehead. “Hey you. Long time, no see.”
“You’re late.”
“And that baby is early.”
“Not my fault.” A contraction rolled through her and she grabbed Talen’s tail, squeezing hard. To his credit, his face remained placid and he did not utter a sound of discomfort. A little part of her was thrilled to inflict a fraction of the pain she felt but a larger part of her felt remorse and vowed to make amends.
When Georgia could finally open her eyes, she found Freema watching her with a goofy look on her face. “What?”
“I’m so happy right now my heart hurts,” Freema said.
“Did you acclimate to the oxygen levels on this planet? Sounds—” Another contraction hit, derailing her snarky comment. There was so much she wanted to tell Freema and so many questions to ask, like was she staying on Corra? Did she get the post at the medical clinic in town or would she be on the other side of the world? Did she bring the damn coffee?
Belith lifted the paper blanket and made a pleased murmur. “Perfect. It’s time.”
“Let’s make a baby,” Freema said. “Where do I scrub up?”
“Sorry, only the papa is allowed in the room now. You can wait in the hall with the rest of the family,” Belith said, snapping on fresh gloves.
Fifteen minutes later, or three hours, she really couldn’t keep track of time, she held a slumbering bundle. Persistence Marie Achaval was perfect. Beyond perfect with her tiny little fingers and fingernails, little button of a nose, pink lips, slender tail, and triangular ears with a tuft of dark hair at the tips.
“Your ears don’t look like this,” she said, brushing the baby fine hair.
/>
“Kit’s fur. It will fall out in time.” He sat on the bed next to her, brushing one large hand over his daughter’s hair.
“Hello baby,” she said, not quite believing this life she made; they made. She looked up at Talen, “We did this.”
“We did,” he agreed. One arm tightened around her and his tail waved happily.
The feel-good endorphins must have been flooding her brain because the recent agony of labor faded—which was a terrible trick for her body to play. All she could think about was her glorious daughter and how soon they could have another. “I think Endeavor is a good name for the next one.”
Epilogue
Georgia
G,
Don’t sleep in too late. Santa plans an early visit and wants those sweet cream buns for breakfast.
-Freema
* * *
Little feet pounced on the bed, waking her. Someone giggled in her ear. Tiny fingers—wet, how were they wet?—poked at her lips.
“Mommy? Are you awake?” More giggling.
Little monster.
“No. I am soundly asleep,” Georgia said.
“But you’re talking.” A weight settled above her, sitting directly over her bladder and the fluffy end bit of a tail brushed at her nose.
“I’m sleep talking. It’s a thing.”
“But Santa Claus came! Please, can you wake up? Pretty please?” Persistence bounced and that was the end of that game. Georgia had to pee like her life depended on it.
“Get off me, munchkin. Go wake up your father.” Georgia gently removed Persistence, dismayed to see her daughter wearing only her pajama bottoms; no top and no socks.
Justice, once sleeping and now disturbed, raised her head and hissed. She leaped from the bed and repositioned herself in front of the fire, curled up and determined to ignore the child shouting excitedly about presents and candy and Santa. Poor creature. Some of the wuaps adored the kit and followed Persistence about the house like a band of marauders, but Justice seemed to enjoy her quiet solitude and avoided the kit.
Correction knocked on the door and held up the missing clothes. “I’m sorry. She got away from me.”
“No worries, Corie. Just give me a minute and we’ll see about breakfast and then,” she paused, then whispered dramatically, “presents.”
“Presents!” Persistence bounced on the bed, her chestnut hair flying and tail thrashing about madly.
“No bouncing. Your father is old and fragile,” Talen grumbled, sitting upright. Persi leaped toward him, fingers curled to sink her kitten claws into him. They tumbled on the bed, all giggles and growls.
Georgia used the facilities, splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her hair. The hour was abhorrently early and she needed coffee. When she returned to the bedroom, Talen had wrestled Persi into her pajamas and Corie stood awkwardly by the door with her tail in her hands, like she was trying to make herself small.
“Hey, Merry Christmas and Happy MidWinter,” Georgia said. She gave her adoptive daughter a one-armed hug.
Four years ago, when Charl eventually returned from whatever he planned to do with the assassin’s list of name, he brought an eleven-year-old Tal female home with him. Apparently, Correction really was a family name and this distant cousin had been recently orphaned. Welcoming the adolescent into their home wasn’t even a question: she was family. As far as Georgia was concerned, Corie was her daughter; her very tall, moody teenage daughter.
“When did you get taller than me? Why am I just noticing now?” Georgia asked.
“You notice. You ask me to retrieve items from high shelves all the time,” Corie said. All elbows and long legs, Corie would be sixteen that spring. She hadn’t decided if she wanted a zasten party or not. Georgia suspected that her eldest was too shy to admit that she wanted a party. She wanted to throw the girl the biggest, most lavish party possible, if only to show Cori how deeply she was loved. Then again, a big, lavish party would mortify the quiet teenager. It was hard to predict how she responded. Georgia wondered if her mother struggled trying to decipher her teen angst.
“Can I have my stocking now?” Persi pointed to the red felt stockings leaning against the fireplace mantle, too heavy for their hooks.
“You already have your stocking,” Georgia said. The stocking in question lay abandoned at the foot of the bed, individually wrapped candy spilling onto the bedspread. Empty candy wrappers were tossed on the floor. “And you ate candy before breakfast.”
“That’s my first stocking. It was in my bed so it’s mine and Uncle Quil says I have more to find,” Persi said.
Georgia noticed how her daughter side-stepped eating candy for breakfast. “Why did Uncle… Santa leave candy in your room?”
“Because he’s the best!” Persi followed her proclamation with more jumping on the bed.
“I think Santa Claus got carried away,” Talen said. “He may have also mentioned a scavenger hunt.”
Persi stopped bouncing, her eyes wide. “What’s that? I want it.”
“Why don’t you give your sister her stocking?” Talen said, setting Persi on the floor and pointing her toward the mantle.
She fetched the stocking and ignored Georgia when she held out her hand, to read the gift tag. “I can read my name,” she said proudly. They had practice writing her name in block print the day before. “This says Persistence, so this one is for Corie.”
“Thank you,” Corie said.
The two girls sat on the floor and emptied their stockings. Persi had a set of plastic building blocks that for sure would be scattered across the floor in no time. Corie opened a velvet box, revealing a silver necklace with a charm.
“That’s lovely,” Georgia said, admiring the tiny moon violet cast in silver.
“Do you think Santa left us more stockings?” Persi dumped the blocks onto the carpet and mashed pieces together.
Georgia shared a look with Talen. Quil had been in charge of filling one—one!—stocking for the girls and setting presents under the tree. Who knows what he actually did in the overnight hours.
“Let’s have breakfast and we’ll go hunting,” Talen said.
“I already had candy. Let’s go hunting now,” Persi retorted.
“You spend too much time with your uncle.”
Corie snorted, then immediately covered her smile with her hand, ears pressed back with embarrassment.
“Breakfast or Bright will have our ears,” Talen said, but the stubborn kit remained unmoved.
“I heard that Santa liked the cookies and milk so much, that he’s stopping by to have breakfast with us,” Georgia said.
“He did?” Persi’s eyes went wide.
“That’s what he told me last night.” Charl purchased a large red overcoat years ago and had been patiently waiting for Persi to be old enough to appreciate Earth traditions. Georgia hoped that Persi would be too impressed by the visit to not question why Santa had four arms.
Talen herded the girls out the door. As Persi and Corie clattered down the stairs, no doubt waking the entire house, he hung back and gave Georgia a heated look.
“Oh no,” she said as he pulled her toward him.
“Temptress,” he said, his voice low and rumbling.
Really? Her hair was a mess and she wore an old bathrobe. She hardly looked the part of a temptress.
Standards had fallen. “No time for that, fuzzy britches,” she said.
“Always time for you, my heart.” He placed a kiss just behind her ear and nibbled down.
“Mmm. A compelling argument but we got a three-year-old monster who’s already eaten her body weight in candy. We should totally try to get her to eat a vegetable.”
“As exciting as that sounds, I have an alternate suggestion. You, minus the bathrobe, on the bed,” he said, already loosening the ties to the robe.
“There’s no time.” Story of every parent’s life right there.
“Okay, keep the bathrobe.” He stroked down her back, hand over
the robe. “I like how soft it is.”
“How about,” she purred, “you unwrap your present later, after the kits have gone to bed?”
His teeth nipped at her neck. “Happy MidWinter, my heart.”
Four years ago, they discovered a surprise pregnancy and everything changed, yet nothing had really changed. Their kit only made her aware of the love she had been too scared to admit. She loved her massive alien with his large hands and book collection. She loved the way he read to their daughter every night. She loved the smile with just a hint of fangs he flashed every morning. She loved him with her whole heart and would until the light left her.
“Merry Christmas, love,” she said.
Afterword
Thank you for reading Georgia and Quil’s story. I hope they made you grin and if you wanted to punch Quil in the face, that’s understandable. He has a very punchable face.
I have plans for Freema. Stay tuned.
* * *
This book is dedicated to my friend Sushma, who suggested the title, Pulled by the Tail, slightly more than “Tail of Two Kitties.” I asked my friends (Nat, Del, YF and Jenny) for punny tail titles and they unanimously, unwaveringly suggested “Tail of Two Kitties.”
Guys, that’s such a bad title. Maybe for a menage but not this book. I endured months of “Have you considered A Tail of Two Kitties?” I’m a little scared to brainstorm with them for the next book.
I’d also like to thank my editors, Lynn and Aaron, who tolerate my rough drafts and my inability to know how commas work. And, finally, the GargGirls (Regine, Stacy, Tamsin, Stephanie and Abigail) who keep me focused with writing sprints and help when I’m searching for a word. Making the words is hard work but it’s good to know I’m not alone.
About the Author
Pulled by the Tail: Celestial Mates Page 23