Garran felt the weight of their stares, nearly two hundred and fifty pairs of eyes gazing at him. "I didn’t mean to interrupt.…" Garran began.
"Not a problem, General. We’re happy to see you here." A man nearest the door spoke. Garran recognized him, one of the engineering staff, named Tarran. Bethan and Symon had mentioned him as a man who’d also managed to attach prior to the meet, through an accidental meeting with some of the younger women in the hanger bay.
Tarran held his wrist up, displaying the band around it. "We know it was partially your plan that won these ladies for us. The party wouldn’t be complete without you."
Quiet murmurs of agreement swept the room, and Garran felt a surge of pride. Symon and Bethan had been right. These men now had wives and the rest would find theirs as well. He’d heard of another transport of NLC brides heading their way within two weeks. He smiled. Their plan was working beautifully!
Tarran poured a glass of cold white wine and brought it over to him, but when Garran reached for it, withheld it from him. Instead his eyes twinkled and mouth turned upwards into a grin.
"General, there’s only one thing wrong, here." He leaned over and stared meaningfully at Garran’s arm. "I have it on pretty good authority that you received a band today and yet I don’t see you wearing it."
Astonished, Garran gaped at the younger man. "How did you know?"
Several men near them grinned sheepishly. One spoke, a tall, skinny youngster who looked barely old enough to be here. He was pale, with light brown freckles, and Garran recognized him as a member of the women’s surveillance team. "Well, when you back up the recording we took when the women first came on board to where that red-headed leader of theirs slugged you.…" He grinned.
Tarran nodded. "Then when you consider that since the women came you’ve been spending all your time in your quarters."
A third man spoke up. "And then you add in the fact that either Sammul or Maxxa has been hanging around during and after the meets." This man was nearly as big as one of Garran’s bodyguards. He wore a security patch and Garran realized probably worked closely with the two men and knew they’d been assigned to protect him.
"Well sir, it was pretty obvious what was going on." Tarran concluded. "Do you have some reason to hide it from us?"
Did he have a reason? He’d not wanted it known he’d attached to an Earther, but clearly that wasn’t a secret anymore. Garran pulled Sarah’s band from his pocket and fastened it around his wrist. He showed it to them and heard the murmured approval.
Tarran thrust the glass of wine into his hands then grabbed one of his own. "We’ve toasted the ladies of Earth who are now our wives, and those who’ve brought them to us. I have another toast now."
He held his glass high. "To the General’s lady!"
The phrase rang throughout the room, repeated by everyone including Sammul behind him, who’d acquired a glass of his own. Garran raised his own glass and drank deeply of the chilled beverage.
He nodded his appreciation, both for the drink and the toast. A very good wine, sweet as his lady and as cold as she was not. A very appropriate choice.
As was Sarah for him an appropriate choice he realized. His red-haired Earther bride, sweet and accepting in his arms today. Tomorrow morning he would claim her.…
But would she accept his claim? Bethan had warned him that the Earth women had some misgivings about him and that Sarah shared those. She might not want him once she knew who he was.
Misgivings of his own arose, but he couldn’t focus on those now. Somehow he’d win her trust. Half the battle was won in that she’d accepted marriage. She just didn’t know it was him. Once she knew, he’d just have to convince her he really was the man wanted.
Enough concerns for the night. Most of these men wouldn’t have the same problems he did. Their ladies would hold no preconceived ideas about them.
It was time to celebrate, not worry. Garran raised his glass. "To all of our ladies, gentlemen!"
* * * *
"What do you mean, what am I going to wear?" Sarah leaned back in her chair in the dining hall and shot a glance at Laura who seemed as taken aback as she was. Beside them Lindsey even lost some of her overwhelming good-humor, which Sarah assumed Terran had full responsibility for.
Her husband might have been reluctant to make love, but it seemed very few other men had been. Several women had gotten into a good-natured argument over which of their men had performed the best.
Andiea, the Gaian woman addressing them, folded her arms and returned their stares meaningfully. "I mean, aren’t you going to dress up for the claiming? It’s customary--after all, this is the first time your husband will see you. You want to look nice."
Several other women gathered around, eyes widening as Andiea’s meaning became clear.
"We’re going to need fancy clothes for tomorrow?" Lindsey’s face turned thoughtful. "I have a dress...I wore it for the last-day party at school." She suddenly smiled. "I bet my husband would love it...the bottom is very short.
"I have a nice black skirt and purple sateen blouse," Sarah heard another woman exclaim.
"I don’t suppose we could use the white gowns," someone else said.
"Too shapeless. You want something that shows your figure." Andiea’s face showed sympathy as she headed for the door. "Let me talk to Bethan. I’m sure she’ll have a solution."
"We have the Gaian blouses and skirts we were given. Maybe we can just dress those up somehow." Even as she said it Laura didn’t sound too hopeful.
Still, Sarah thought, it wasn’t a bad idea. The Gaian women wore simple clothes with decorations of ribbon, lace, and fancy stitching. Maybe there was something she could do with what she had. Ambition firing, Sarah rose and headed for her room.
Two hours later, Bethan arrived to find Sarah hunched over her Gaian blouse, an emerald-colored ribbon in one hand and a surgical-needle and thread from her medical kit in the other. Irregular loops of ribbons were gathered along the top of the blouse, held in place by large and in Sarah’s eyes, poorly done stitches.
Sarah threw aside the results of her handiwork with a grunt of disgust. "I learned to do stitches using needle and thread when I took emergency medicine years ago. Never had cause to use it...we always use wound-sealers in our work. It’s a good thing I guess." She eyed her modified blouse with dismay. "If I had to work on a person they’d come out looking like Frankenstein."
Bethan looked confused. "Frankenstein?"
"A man stitched together from the parts of other men. I saw an old flat-screen horror movie about him once. He had seams running up the sides of his face." She glared at the blouse and it’s richly hued but disastrously uneven trim. "On second thought, that would be an improvement over this."
Bethan laughed and pointed to the line of delicately made flowers that decorated the neckline of her own garment. "This kind of work takes years to learn to do, Sarah. Don’t feel bad that you aren’t an expert." Bethan collected the blouse. "This isn’t so bad...at least it’s colorful." She picked at one of the ribbons. "Where did you get these?"
"Hair ribbons. I wasn’t sure how available they would be where I was going and I tend to need a lot them." Sarah lifted her braid to lie over her shoulder, showing the red ribbon tie running through it. She stroked the braid. "At least he seemed to like how long my hair was."
"He? Oh, you mean your husband." Bethan reached for Sarah’s arm and smiled at the marriage band. "I’m glad you care about what he likes."
"I’d better--he’s my husband now." Mournfully she stared at the adulterated top in Bethan’s hands. "I just hope he won’t be too disappointed in me."
"What, because you can’t sew? I doubt he’ll notice. Believe me, I’ve seen worse." Bethan eyed her handiwork with the air of an expert. "Using the ribbon was clever. It just needs a couple extra stitches to even things out."
Sarah’s hopes rose. "Could you fix it? I don’t have time to learn how to do it right."
Wit
h a grin Bethan picked up the needle and applied it with considerable skill, neatly tucking the extra ribbon into place, catching the looser loops as she went. Sarah stared in wonder as the effect she’d been trying for showed up along the neckline, loops of red, blue, green, and yellow ribbon in colorful display against the pale green fabric. "That’s what I wanted."
"See, you were on the right track. Why the sudden interest in domestic arts, anyway?"
"I wanted it for tomorrow, for the claiming. I don’t have anything really nice to wear."
Bethan finished the last knot and snipped the loose threads. She held it up for Sarah’s inspection. "Well, it’s nice, and I’m sure your husband would be pleased that you went to this much trouble. But if you’d like something a little more appropriate.…"
Sarah’s attention was caught. "You mean fancier? What do you have in mind?"
"Andiea mentioned not all of you had proper claiming garments, so the rest of us got busy and put some outfits together." She rose to her feet. "Why don’t you come with me and see what we found."
Eagerly Sarah followed her to dining hall, which seemed to have been turned into a clothing bank in her absence. Piled on the tables were gowns, skirts, and blouses in rich colors and fabrics, much nicer than the usual Gaian garb.
At their entrance, Bethan nodded to one of the women helping the delighted brides selecting claiming attire. The woman smiled and disappeared for a moment, reappearing with yet another outfit. Bethan took from her the heavy brocaded skirt, dark green in color, and white blouse, richly decorated in embroidery in various shades of green, gold, and red. Flowers and leaves ran along the scooped neck and down the top of the long sleeves, ending in colored bands at the wrists.
Sarah gaped at the beautiful outfit, tentatively fingering the delicately depicted flowers. Some blooms were a red-gold color not unlike the color of her hair. "I’ve never seen anything like this."
"That’s one of the Earth flowers that grows well on Gaia. It’s called a rose and comes in many colors, including that one. Roses are much loved by our people and some varieties even have names. That one’s called Earthen Flame."
Sarah laughed. "How very appropriate--it’s very like the color of my hair." Bethan handed the blouse to her and she gathered the silken folds over her arm. It felt like heaven to the touch and she couldn’t wait to see her husband’s expression when he saw it.
Of course, she couldn’t wait to see her husband.
It seemed to good to be true. "Are you sure I can have this to wear, Bethan?"
Bethan pressed the skirt on her and Sarah reached to take hold of the heavy material. "It’s yours to keep, Sarah. Consider it a wedding gift."
* * * *
Symon found Garran tearing through his clothes-store, throwing the contents over the new doublewide bed that took up the middle of his bedroom.
He picked up one of the several black shirts piled on the bed. "It isn’t spring-cleaning is it, Garran? Oh, wait, I know. You’re making room for your wife’s clothes." He eyed the bed with a smile. "I see you’ve already taken care of where she’ll sleep."
Garran shoved a wayward lock of dark hair out of his eyes, his expression screaming his annoyance. "If you must know, I’m looking for something to wear tomorrow. Something appropriate for the claiming."
He picked up a pair of ebony colored pants and tossed them aside. "Something that isn’t black."
"Something that isn’t black!" Symon couldn’t resist teasing his friend. "But Garran, black is your favorite color. I’m not sure I’d recognize you if you were wearing anything else."
"That’s the point. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, least of all her. At least, I don’t want her to see me as me.…" He blew out a deep frustrated breath. "You know what I mean."
"You mean you want something to wear that won’t immediately remind your wife that she’s married to General Garran Doranth." Symon sorted through the shirts, each as dark as the others. "I understand, Garran. Really I do."
Pulling the last of his wardrobe, Garran tossed it on the pile on the bed. Every shirt, jacket, jumpsuit, and pair of pants was as dark as the next. The pile looked like a black hole, absorbing all light within the room.
Symon stared at it. "Impressive, Garran. I’m surprised. I didn’t realize black came in so many shades."
Garran groaned and sat on the edge of the pile, burying his head in his hands. "What am I going to do? If I show up wearing this stuff tomorrow, she’ll hit me and run away before I can get a word in edgewise. I’ve got to throw her off-guard, for at least as long as it takes to get her alone. Imagine her screaming about me being the Gaian beast in front of the others?"
Even Symon shuddered. That was a problem. If Sarah panicked the other women might do the same. "Well, it’s a good thing Bethan anticipated this."
Garran’s head came up, obviously sensing an impending solution. "What did Bethan anticipate?"
"That you might need a new wardrobe. If you’ll come with me to the sitting room…."
His voice trailed off and he had to move quickly to get through the door before Garran. The big man moved much faster than Symon had anticipated, a feral gleam in his eyes. The gleam turned to appreciative satisfaction when it landed on the pile of clothing Symon had left in Maxxa’s care. Four pairs of pants in brown and dark blue, three tops in lighter blues and green, plus one in a nice tan color rested on one of the long divans.
In a separate pile was another outfit, brocade pants in a dark green and a white silken top heavy with embroidery. Garran lifted the shirt reverently. "Claiming garments, for tomorrow." He ran one hand along the embroidery at the neckline. "Bethan’s handiwork I see. Beautiful. Please, give her my thanks."
Symon clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I will." He turned to leave. "Don’t stay up all night worrying about tomorrow. She’s a good woman and you’re a good man. It will work out for both of you."
Garran collected the clothes in his arms to take them back into his bedroom and the bed he’d sleep in for the first time, and hopefully the only time alone. "I hope you’re right, my friend."
Chapter Twelve
Claiming day. At the signaling chimes from the comm-unit Sarah arose from her sleepless bed, the covers tossed here and there, the pillow mashed into the corner.
For once no dreams featuring a broad-shouldered dark-haired lover had disturbed her sleep. Instead she’d tossed and turned, imagining her husband’s hands on her breasts, his lips on her lips. She even imagined his body between her legs, and that image had driven her to the sanitary in the middle of the night for a warm, relaxing bath.
It would have been even more relaxing if she’d been able to get his last words and her solicited promise out of her mind. What was it that her husband had been so concerned about? She’d promised to obey his instructions. What would those be?
She knew what was supposed to happen today. At the first bell the women were to show up in the assembly hall wearing their claiming garments and armbands, the hooded robes covering the whole. They’d be organized in the same groups as the second meeting. Their husbands would be brought in, still wearing the brown hooded robes, and would find their wives, using the bands as verification.
Once a couple met, they’d exchanged names and then pull the robes off, uncovering their faces, and then the pair would move off to the banquet hall for serious feasting.
After barely touching her dinner last night Sarah looked forward to that part of the ceremony. While breakfast had been delivered to her cabin, Sarah wasn’t able to do more than sip a cup of the flavorful javi, ignoring the sweetened fruit-roll on her plate. Her stomach seemed turned into knots. Maybe once she was with her husband it would settle down and let her eat. After missing two meals, she expected to be starving by late afternoon.
The chronometer showed very little time left, so Sarah concentrated on packing the last of her things into the trunk. This afternoon it would be moved to her husband’s quarters--wherever they were. She brushe
d her hair and plaited the sides with green ribbons, pulling the braids up on her head like a coronet. The result was more elegant than her usual braid, but still kept her thick hair out of her face.
Finally she donned the skirt and blouse Bethan had found for her last night and when she examined herself in the mirror she couldn’t help smiling. She looked like the images the Gaians had shown her of their brides.
Surely he’d be pleased, this husband of hers who always called her "Earth woman". Sarah admired her reflection, tilting her head in satisfaction. She could be as Gaian as anyone.
Slipping the hooded robe around her, Sarah left her cabin for the last time and joined the other women assembled in the corridor.
* * * *
Garran pulled the brown robe around him, and Maxxa in tow, headed for the assembly room. After a sleepless night he’d put away half a pot of javi, plus two of his favorite geappletarts, but still felt hungry.
The new claiming garments fit him perfectly, even given the weight he’d lost in the past few days. He’d taken far more care than usual with his appearance, brushing his hair, cleaning his teeth. He’d spent a lot of time in his bedroom, clearing out cabinets for Sarah’s belongings, making room for her clothes next to his.
He’d even made the bed, a useless gesture since he knew a small army of cleaners would descend on his quarters the instant he left it to make certain everything would be ready for his new wife.
His new wife. Garran played with the band and once more wondered why she’d picked a long-legged bird for a symbol. It must be an old Earth thing. Maybe he’d get her to tell him later.
Assuming she was speaking to him later. He couldn’t keep imagining the worst. Somehow it was going to work out. It had to.
Maxxa’s hand descended on his shoulder as they arrived at the hallway leading to the assembly hall, just before he entered the door. Under orders from Bethan to let the bulk of the newlyweds pair off and leave first, Garran followed his bodyguard’s direction and waited to enter.
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