by Joss Ware
As she got older, and was assigned to work in the kitchen for a year, the building lost some of its formality, for it was filled with the muffled giggles of teenaged girls and muttered gossip in the corners. The large kitchen was still intact, but the floor-to-ceiling windows that had lined the wall of its dining room had been destroyed during the earthquakes. Now, although some of them had been bricked over, others remained open to the mild elements. It never got cold enough in Falling Creek for it to be uncomfortable.
Beyond the former line of glass windows lay acres of rolling meadows. At one time, she understood that it had been a golf course, also enclosed by the stone wall, but now the fields were farmland where they grew cotton and corn, as well as pastures for cattle, cows, and sheep.
The only thing Sage knew about golf was from the old DVD Caddyshack. Theo and Lou had found the movie unaccountably hilarious, and had made her watch it more than a dozen times even though she didn’t understand any of the humor. That and another film called Animal House were their favorites—and her reaction to both movies was the same: complete confusion laced with horrified fascination.
Looming like a gray-blue beast on the northwest edge of Falling Creek was Hell’s Wall, the ragged, angry-looking mountain that acted as backdrop for the settlement. Its sharp clifflike top and sparse greenery gave it a forbidding appearance, and its sheer wall rose like an iron-colored curtain beyond the stone wall.
“Jesus. Don’t they worry about rockslides?” Simon muttered, looking up at the monster.
Sage nodded. “It’s always been a concern. But they’ve been very careful, and have protection in place.”
Before she could explain further, they had arrived at the Community House and once inside, Sage and Simon had fallen into their agreed-upon roles and story.
“Sage? Is it really you?” Lark rose from her desk to show a large, pregnant belly as Sage introduced herself. “I can’t believe you’ve returned!”
They embraced, a bit awkwardly due to the desk and belly, and Sage looked over her half sister. “You look very healthy and happy,” she said. They had a few moments of Lark filling her in on where she could find some of their other family members, and then Sage explained why she and Simon were there.
“So you wish to return to Falling Creek? As a full member of the community?” asked Lark, who was now Mrs. Lark Tannigan, as she settled back behind her desk. A boxy gray computer that chugged along as if it were on its last legs sat at one side of the table, and a stack of papers rested on the opposite. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? And I must say, it’s not often that someone returns to FC after leaving. But now you have returned, and we’ll welcome you back for certain.”
“Thank you.” Her response had been soft and mild, not because she was nervous or cowed, but because that was the role she played.
“Sage and I believe it’s our responsibility to do our part to rebuild the human race,” Simon said. He spoke in a more formal tone than she’d ever heard him, smooth and almost stilted.
“Indeed it is.” Lark looked at him, avid curiosity as well as admiration clear on her face. “How long have you been married?” she asked, clicking industriously on the computer keyboard.
“Three months,” Simon responded.
“Where did you meet? And where were you married?”
“In Turnedy Court,” he replied. “We met and married there.”
She looked up. “Is that the settlement that was destroyed by a river flood?”
“It was a flood as well as an attack by the gangas,” Simon replied. They’d agreed to use that as their back story so that they would have a legitimate reason to move to a new settlement. “My family was killed in the event.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lark Tannigan said. She seemed sincere, and Sage remembered her oldest sibling as always being very motherly and kind. Then she asked, “No pregnancies yet?”
“No.”
“But you have been attempting it, of course. Regularly? Are you familiar with your cycle? There are no health problems?”
Sage’s face burned and she dared not look at Simon. She’d expected this sort of interrogation, but not so quickly. And not with him present. How embarrassing. “Yes, we have been…active.”
When Lark paused, waiting for more answers, Simon responded. “No health problems.” His voice sounded clipped.
Lark pursed her lips and delicate little lines that looked like stitches radiated from her mouth. “And you, Mr…. what was your last name?”
“Japp.”
“Mr. Japp. Do you or have you ever had any other wives?”
“No.”
Lark nodded, clicking another note, then looked up with a smile. The little lines smoothed out. “Well, we can certainly help you with that. We’re always interested in more male residents in our little community here. For obvious reasons.”
“Is that a real computer?” Sage asked, sounding breathless with amazement. She thought it prudent to change the subject. And maybe even to learn something that might come in handy, like how many computers they had.
“Why, yes it is,” Lark replied proudly. “Only in the last five years have we been able to computerize everything. You can imagine how much easier it makes it to keep track of the family tree, so to speak.” She laughed.
Yeah, it would probably work even better if you had a computer that actually ran. Sage guessed that the Council Leader, probably a son of one of the Corrigans, had a computer that worked much better than Lark Tannigan’s. Something more along the lines of Lou’s or Theo’s.
She wondered if there was a way for her to look at it…and whatever secrets it might hold. It was too much to hope that Remington Truth had been a resident here, but there might be something else of interest. She tucked that possibility away for future contemplation.
She and Simon had already discussed and agreed upon their plan: to find a place to set up the NAP, and while doing so, to try to steer the conversation with FC residents toward Remington Truth whenever possible. It was unlikely anyone there would know the meaning of the name Remington Truth, so they weren’t concerned about raising suspicions. Still. They had to be delicate about it just in case.
“Well, then,” Lark continued after Sage had time to properly admire her desktop workhorse. “I’ll bring your information to the board, and they’ll make a decision about where you’ll live. Sage, honey, I’m so glad you’re back. Clearly you belong here, and we’ll all be pleased to welcome you home. And…oh, yes, I neglected to ask about your trade or skills, Mr. Japp. We’ll need to know what you can bring to the community besides your sperm.” Lark beamed as if she’d just offered them a plate of cookies. “Not that we aren’t glad to get that regardless!”
Simon answered smoothly, “I cook. And I’m an excellent hunter. A very good shot.”
“Wonderful. We can always use another chef. And we do send out hunting parties weekly.” Lark rested her fingers on the keyboard and looked at him. “Well, now, let’s get you settled in a temporary residence. It’s nearly time for dinner.” Then she turned to Sage. “While your husband gets settled in your room, we’ll get your medical exam started. Need to get the chart and vitals going. I’m sure you remember your mother doing all that, don’t you? And of course, I’m an old hand too—this is my fifth.” She patted her round stomach. “We can get your Mr. Japp’s vitals later. Yours are much more important at this time.”
Sage was whisked away for a variety of tests to determine whether she was healthy and where she was in her reproductive cycle. She didn’t want to think about Simon’s reaction when he learned he’d have to have his sperm count checked.
She had a feeling he wasn’t going to be very pleased.
Things had moved rapidly after that. Her medical exam took some time, and by the time she’d been directed to the small room she and Simon would be sharing, he was gone. Their room was located in the Community House as a temporary accommodation, and Sage’s first thought was how very small it was.
One large bed dominated the space. It probably would have appeared inviting to a woman sharing the room with a man who was actually her husband. A menagerie of red pillows had been arranged at its head, and although the air was warm, a thick pink comforter covered the bed.
The rest of the area was much less elaborate: A cushioned armchair sat in one corner with a small lamp and table. For reading, she thought. A bureau rested against the wall near a window. And, thank God, a door led to their own bathroom, complete with shower.
Now, hours later, Sage reflected on just how much the room had shrunk when she and Simon returned to it alone, at last. He’d been quiet and almost short with her, unwilling to converse about anything, despite the fact that she, for once, needed to talk.
“I’m tired,” was all he’d said, cutting her off when she tried to converse.
Despite his sharp, abrupt tone, instead of being hurt, she’d brushed off his rudeness. After all, he was there because she’d forced him into it. He didn’t have to be pleased about it.
And she couldn’t blame him—it had been a long, difficult day.
Half the day had been filled with horribly nauseating travel—she’d nearly horked out of the humvee’s window, but she absolutely did not want to puke in front of Theo or Simon again. Then she’d battled nerves and apprehension about their reception in Falling Creek, followed by the intrusion of an extensive medical exam, a dinner filled with veiled inquisition and blatant curiosity by other FC residents, and then they’d been taken on a walking tour of the entire settlement. But the most difficult of moments had occurred when she and Simon were informed publicly, during dinner as they sat next to Sharon and one of her co-wives, that they should refrain from intercourse that night because she was approaching ovulation, and he needed to save his sperm.
Sage thought she might dive under the table, and she definitely felt the muscles stiffening in Simon’s thigh next to hers. But since no one else even flickered an eyelash at such a personal topic, her discomfort soon faded into pragmatism. Of course. This entire settlement lived, breathed, and existed solely for human procreation. Talking about it was like talking about the weather, or what was for dinner.
So, after a day like hers had been, Sage hadn’t really expected to fall asleep easily. Especially since she was in a strange bed.
With a half-dressed man next to her.
Right next to her. So close, she could feel the heat of his body, even though they were separated by a good buffer of space about the width of a pillow.
But she didn’t have to be so awake. Did she? It had to be well past midnight, likely cruising toward dawn. She’d have an assignment in the morning and plenty of work to do to contribute to the community.
Lying stiff, still, listening to the sounds of her new environment, Sage tried to ignore the most unfamiliar one of all: the low rush of Simon’s easy, gentle breathing.
As quiet as it was, the sound seemed to fill her ears, expanding into the whole room and taking over her consciousness. She dared not move, and every time she took a breath, she held it, waiting to see if his rhythm changed.
It didn’t. Unlike Sage, he slept soundly.
She didn’t know that much about him, of course, but it had become obvious that he adapted easily, and was even used to adventure and danger. Change and unfamiliar environments didn’t throw him off balance like they did her. She supposed that shouldn’t be a surprise, after what he’d been through in the last seven months.
But it wasn’t as if she was crippled or paralyzed by being here in Falling Creek. She just had so much to think about, to analyze and evaluate, to turn off her mind and sleep.
Especially with Simon in the room, sleeping soundly in a pair of shorts.
A pair of shorts.
Would it have been easier to turn off her racing mind if he’d been wearing, say, heavy jeans and a bulky sweater? If he hadn’t stripped off his T-shirt in front of her…even though his back was turned?
If he’d left his hair pulled back in its tie instead of loosening it?
Sage swallowed and the sound was loud to her ears. Her insides tingled, her foot itched, she needed to move…but she was afraid she’d awaken him.
Or, worse, that he’d realize she wasn’t sleeping.
Anyone would feel odd, sharing a room with a strange man, wouldn’t they? Not that Simon was strange, but he was, really, a stranger. Invading her personal space, her privacy—out of necessity of course, but still. It was odd. Unsettling.
And she couldn’t put the image of his tanned, muscular shoulders out of her mind. She hadn’t even known men had muscles in their back like that, rippling like gentle waves.
Oh God. Now she really needed to move, to shake off that squiggly feeling in her belly.
She was going to be a ganga in the morning, and have heavy black circles under her eyes that would likely provoke comment. The people of Falling Creek were excessively concerned with one’s health and well-being—especially the women. The precious vessels of humanity.
Some women liked that status. The protection, the caring, the reverence. Even the structure, the luxury of not having to make decisions or to worry. Her mother had.
And look what it had done to her.
Even at the young age of twelve, Sage had resisted the principles and rules, the blueprint for her life.
“Sage.”
For a moment, she thought she’d dreamt it. The sound was so quiet, almost like a breath in the air.
She froze, on her back and staring at the ceiling, holding her breath. Then she felt movement next to her, slow, unrushed. As if he were merely shifting in his sleep. The bed dipped slightly.
And then he touched her, brushing lightly against her arm with his fingers.
For some reason, she could picture his hand perfectly, as if she were looking at it. He had an elegant, capable one. That was why she’d noticed it—with long fingers and a solid wrist loosely encircled by a slender leather band. Broad and smooth, with very little hair on the knuckles. Just enough to indicate it belonged to a man.
She began to breathe again—she wouldn’t have been able to hold her breath any longer if she wanted to—then froze as his fingers brushed over her a second time, sliding along her arm, and then curling gently around her wrist.
“Shh,” he said, on little more than a breath.
Sage realized he’d turned to face her. Heart pounding, palms dampening, and belly fluttering, she held still, wondering if he was going to touch her again. Roll closer, and bring his warm, muscled body next to hers…
Her heart thumped so hard she thought it must be jolting the bed, and she moistened her lips, realizing simultaneously that her mouth was dry…and that she wouldn’t at all mind him coming close to her. Oh God. Her stomach flipped and she felt a rush of heat wash over her.
But he didn’t move again. She felt the warmth of his breath, faint and distant against her cheek; he’d definitely shifted closer.
“The room,” he said, very slowly and so softly she could barely hear him, “is being watched.”
Great. How was she going to get dressed and undressed, knowing she was being spied on?
Simon’s grip gently tightened around her, as if to ask if she’d heard him. She curled her fingers into a fist. The tendons of her wrist shifted beneath his hand. “Okay,” she breathed.
“Be careful,” he added, low and barely discernable, “what we say here.” So that explained why he’d cut her off earlier.
She tightened her fist again in response, and, after a quick squeeze he released her, sliding his warm hand away.
Sage bit her lip. Silence. A million questions raced through her mind. No, she was definitely not going to get any sleep tonight.
She carefully rolled to her side, facing him. In the gray light, she could see the rise of his bare shoulder, squared off, sleek with muscle, and brushed with the same bit of mo
onlight that glossed his cheekbone. His eyes were dark, in shadow, and she couldn’t tell if they were open or closed. She couldn’t see anything but the silhouette of his facial bones and shoulder, and the wash of dark strands of hair on the side of his face.
Silence reigned for a moment, and she wondered if he’d gone back to sleep. He didn’t move, and his breathing shifted the air, regular and easy.
How did he do that?
Theo could do the same thing—drop off to sleep at a moment’s notice. She’d seen him do it—come to think of it, she’d shared a room with him once before too. Platonically, of course, sleeping in separate beds, when her room had to be redone. That hadn’t been any big deal.
Sage pursed her lips and, telling herself this was no big deal either, she reached out, sliding her hand beneath the covers.
Her fingers didn’t go far before they connected, flat and solid, with warm, smooth skin. Not a gently haired arm, but solid and broad. His chest.
Oops. And…holy crap. Solid.
Sage pulled her fingers back, but she was suddenly very warm. Really warm. “Uh, sorry. Uh, Simon?”
“Yes?”
Her fingers were tingling. Good grief. “How do you know?”
Beneath the covers, she felt even hotter—as if heat rolled off her, settling in the sheet-covered hollow between them as they lay facing each other. She didn’t need to touch him…she could already feel his heat.
“I did some checking.” Again, his voice was so soft, she could barely hear it. “I don’t know if they have audio,” he added, and she smelled the faint mint of his mouthwash. “But they have a camera.”
“Why?”
The bed moved as he shrugged slightly. “I’ll try to find out. But…they want to see if we can be trusted. Probably anyone new is watched.”
She thought about reaching to touch him again. She wanted to, and had an image of her hand, pale and slender, spread over his dark chest…
“Are you all right?” he asked a moment later, still so very softly. “Any problems today?”
“I’m fine. It’s strange to be back.”
“Bad memories?”