“Then you didn’t want to.”
But the option to apply to art school had always been at the back of her mind. Now it was gone. She could no longer tell herself that she could apply to art school but couldn’t be bothered. The situation had changed from her rejecting art school to art school rejecting her, leaving her with one less delusion to draw upon when she needed a boost. No, they didn’t want her, and she had no idea if her name had mattered, or if she simply couldn’t paint. She’d been afraid to apply, or perhaps smart enough not to burst her own bubble, knowing there’d be nothing left if she did—until Mo and Lesley. She still had them.
Since talking to Lesley, she’d thought about why she’d stupidly applied. She’d known—known!—that she was likely to be bitterly disappointed. The possibility that she’d used them as an excuse had turned her stomach, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. She had wanted to show them that she wasn’t worthless, and had perhaps drawn courage from them in a positive, not negative, way. No matter what happened, they’d still be there...and they’d still care. They cared. Please, please, don’t let that be another delusion!
“Jayne? Argamon, I beeped to see how you are, and all I’m doing is depressing you,” Mo said. “I should have waited for your dispatch instead of forcing you to talk about it.”
“No, I’m glad you beeped. I was thinking about what you said, that’s all.” Though she wouldn’t mind a change of subject. “Lesley’s studying. I’m outside on the bench swing. It’s a pleasant—”
“Oh, I think I see Ann. Do you want me to put her off?”
“No! I’m okay. Go fly your sims. I’ll feel worse if you don’t.”
“Well, we don’t want that.” Mo sighed. “I wish I was down there. I’ll beep you later, okay?”
“Okay.” Silence. Had Mo disconnected?
“Bye,” Mo finally said.
“Bye.” Jayne cursed herself for not saying that she wished Mo was down here, too. She felt like an idiot, refusing to answer their beeps and then throwing a temper tantrum and ripping up a sketchbook. Stupid, especially since she’d applied because she cared about what they thought of her. Now what did they see? A child who couldn’t handle rejection? Enough! Snap out of the self-pity. She was entitled to a fit of frustration every once in a while.
Maybe this rejection hurt so badly because she could feel again. She’d cast off the shroud of indifference and isolation in which she’d wrapped herself since the Incident. She’d dared to be optimistic, to dream, to expect more than a lonely life on the fringes of society. Without hope, there could never be disappointment. She’d given up on both when she was twelve years old. It was time to grow up.
*****
Mo tore off her helmet, unbuckled her seatbelt, and stomped out of the simulator. Her jaw tightened when she spotted Ann in the corridor. “What is your flaming problem?”
Ann frowned. “You took way too long to disable that escort.”
“Too long? I disabled it in 4.3 seconds. Do you understand how good that is?”
Ann shrugged. Mo wanted to throttle her. She’d flown her guts out, mercilessly blasted everything coming her way...and enjoyed the carnage too much. Pretending that her opponents belonged to the committee that had rejected Jayne’s application had helped—a lot. “Maybe I would have done it in 4.1 seconds, if the other pilot had covered me like she was supposed to.” Ann’s inattentiveness to the mission objectives had almost cost them an easy mission they normally flew with their eyes closed.
“You were doing fine on your own.” Ann strode away.
“I thought you just said I was slow!” Mo shouted.
Ann shrugged again.
Mo hurried after her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. Some of my students would have flown that mission better than you did.”
Ann whirled and stabbed a finger at Mo. “You know what? Maybe I’m just tired of the whole flaming Middleton family!” She marched off.
Mo stared after her. Great. When she got home, she’d corner Andrew and find out what was going on. This was exactly why she hadn’t been thrilled when she’d found out that Ann and Andrew were dating. Their relationship problems were now her flaming problems!
Back in her quarters, she checked her dispatches and smiled as she read a short one from Jayne. If Jayne had been here on 72, she wouldn’t have been alone when she’d received the rejection from the art college—at least, not for long, anyway. Mo wanted her here. Argamon, she wanted Les and Jayne here, but until Les completed her commander training, she’d only have a day off now and then. Mo usually turned down supply shifts that coincided with Les’s free time, but the practicums were a different matter. Les might not want to spend her precious downtime on 72, but Mo would ask. As for Jayne...could she and Mo share quarters on 72 and not cross the line?
Honestly—Mo wasn’t sure. Restraining themselves for an hour was becoming more difficult; imagine spending hours alone in each other’s company, with a bedroom to tempt them. Then there was Les. How would she react to Jayne on 72? Maybe it was time to find out. Insisting that Jayne remain on the planet was starting to feel silly. How long could they keep it up without resenting Les, especially since the same restriction didn’t apply to her? She’d said their arrangement was off. Okay, she’d made that grand proclamation because she hadn’t wanted her Chosens to worry about her, but she also understood that they couldn’t hold each other at arm’s length forever. Still, that didn’t mean Les wouldn’t have a problem with Jayne on 72. A visit to an eatery was one thing; an overnight stay on 72 was something else entirely.
Mo chewed her left thumbnail, then winced and switched to her right. There was only one way to find out how Les might handle Jayne on 72: ask her. If Mo wanted Jayne here, she’d have to do that anyway. Jayne wouldn’t agree to come to 72 without Les’s “permission,” and Mo needed Les’s reassurance, too. Argamon, what a weird situation, wanting reassurance from Les that if she ended up in bed with Jayne, Les would still love her! The nerve of even asking...but they were in a triad. Someday, Les would ask her for the same reassurance.
Mo sank onto the sofa. If she was going to take this step, she better be sure that she could handle it when that day came. Could she give Les permission to be with someone else? A few months ago, never! But now...her feelings for Jayne hadn’t changed her feelings for Les, who was as important and special to her as she’d ever been—perhaps more so. Les’s struggle to accept Mo’s feelings for Jayne, even though it must be killing her, had swept away any doubts Mo had harboured about the depth of Les’s love. Who would have thought that falling for Jayne would make Les more special to her? When Les finally developed feelings for Jayne—because she would, she flaming would!—Mo would have to cling to these thoughts and remind herself that Les wouldn’t be asking to be with just anyone. She’d want to be with Jayne. So maybe Mo could say, “Yes, Les, go ahead. I’ll still love you.” Because she loved both of them.
*****
Jayne examined the colour charts that Catherine Moss had arranged on the round table. She would prefer lighter colours over darker ones, but would Lesley and Mo? They both lived with their parents; she didn’t know how they’d decorate a room or what furniture would appeal to them. They’d said that she could run her choices by them; Jayne hoped they’d meant it.
Catherine swung her chair around and lifted a blueprint from her desk. “Before we work on the second floor, we need to label the bedrooms,” she said, slapping the blueprint over the colour charts.
“What do you mean?” Jayne could see at least five rooms labelled Bedroom.
“Well, for our purposes, we need to know more than that a room will be a bedroom. We need to know whose bedroom. I’m sure your daughters’ rooms will be decorated differently from...” Catherine cleared her throat. “Will all three of you be in the same room?” she asked faintly.
Jayne’s cheeks felt warm. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “We have
n’t talked about it.”
“We’ll need to know if any are intended to be guest rooms, too,” Catherine said, her eyes on Jayne’s face.
Jayne lowered her head and pretended to study the blueprint. They hadn’t discussed the sleeping arrangements for their own home, probably because the topic was a loaded one. When she and Mo had stayed at the Thompsons’ for the Festival of the Way, she’d slept in a guest bedroom and Mo had slept in Lesley’s. Right now that made sense, and Jayne wouldn’t mind if she slept in her own room permanently. Three in the same bed would be a little crowded. If anyone was going to share, it would be her two Chosens, which would suit Jayne fine. She was used to being alone. She cherished Lesley and Mo’s company, but would relish having her own space, a room that was hers.
“Can you discuss it with them and let me know?”
“Sure.” Though knowing what she’d prefer wouldn’t make talking to them about it any easier.
“Do you know how many daughters you’re planning to have?”
Jayne wanted to laugh. One step at a time. “No.”
Catherine shifted the blueprint so Jayne could see the colour charts again. “You have an advantage over diff-oriented couples. You can plan exactly how many children you’ll have.”
“Not all visits to the Reproductive Technology Centre are successful,” Jayne pointed out, wishing Catherine would change the subject.
“True. I suppose it’s more that there are no unexpected pregnancies.”
Jayne nodded, then wondered if Catherine was trying to find out whether she intended to have children. If she didn’t feel that it was none of Catherine’s business, she’d set her mind at ease. “Can I see the cream chart you showed me earlier?”
Catherine sorted through the pile in front of her, pulled out the cream chart, and handed it to Jayne.
She tapped one of the colour panels. “I like this one for the dining room.”
“Oh, I have the perfect dining set to show you. Two, actually.”
Jayne listened to Catherine prattle on about possible furnishings for the dining room, relieved that the conversation had turned away from sleeping arrangements and daughters.
*****
Lesley turned off her comm display when she heard familiar footsteps thumping up the stairs. Mo burst into the room. “Finished studying?” She threw her arm around Lesley and squeezed her, then plunked onto the bed.
“I’m finished.” Lesley stood and rolled her chair under the desk, then turned and noticed Mo chewing her thumbnail. “What is it?”
Mo heaved her shoulders. “I want to talk to you about Jayne and 72.”
On her way to sit next to Mo, Lesley continued past the bed and looked out the window instead. She could guess what was coming. How many times had she stared out this window as a child, waiting for Mo to arrive on her bike? How many times had they ridden up to the house together, shouting taunts as they’d raced each other up the path? The two girls had become women; friendship had blossomed into love. Mo had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. All that time, neither had known that there was another girl, and then a woman, who would affect their lives—their relationship—in ways they never could have imagined. Some thought that knowing the future would make life easier, but Lesley wasn’t one of them. She wouldn’t trade the time she’d had Mo to herself for anything. But those days were over.
“I could tell you that nothing will happen, but I won’t lie to you.” The bed creaked. “All I can say is that it won’t change anything between us. It really won’t.”
That didn’t matter. What had Papa said when she’d told him about Mo’s feelings for Jayne? You’ll have something that only two other Rymellans have. Two Chosens. Two women who’ll love you and cherish you above everyone else. She would have been happy with one woman who loved her exclusively.
“If you want more time—”
“More time won’t help. You could give me twenty years and it won’t make a difference.” It would still cut to her core.
Silence, then, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt you.”
But she would, and Lesley would forgive her. She had no choice, and neither did Mo. What were she and Jayne supposed to do, wait until Lesley assured them it wouldn’t hurt? That day would never come, and they all knew it. The best she could hope for was that it would eventually stop hurting.
“Jayne might not even want to go to 72. I haven’t talked to her about it. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“She won’t refuse forever.” Lesley continued to stare out the window. “I don’t know what my mood will be like when you get back. You might have to give me some space.”
“Maybe I should forget the idea,” Mo said, her voice strained.
“Mo, we can’t avoid this. Delaying it won’t help. Pretending it will never happen won’t help.” She braced herself and turned around.
Mo had stood. Her moist eyes met Lesley’s; her lips trembled. “I don’t want you to hate me.”
Lesley’s own eyes filled with tears. “I could never hate you.” She held out her arms.
Mo took a tentative step, then rushed to Lesley and clung to her. Lesley held her close and murmured, “We’ll be okay,” into Mo’s ear, desperately hoping she wasn’t whispering an empty promise. Every time they took a baby step, they were afraid they’d fall. So far they’d wobbled, but managed to stay upright. For Lesley, this step would be a barefoot stride across a floor littered with broken glass. She’d bleed; the question was, how much?
“I don’t want you to hate Jayne, either,” Mo said, her face pressed against Lesley’s shoulder and her voice muffled.
“I won’t.” She didn’t know how she felt about Jayne. She’d felt something in Jayne’s apartment, but had Jayne’s distress merely moved her, or had deeper feelings stirred? Either way, she didn’t, and wouldn’t, hate Jayne. She couldn’t allow herself to hate someone who’d live with her for the rest of her life. They’d be okay. They’d be okay. “When you talk to Jayne about going to 72, I’d like to be there. If that’s all right.”
Mo drew back and wiped her eyes, then her nose, with her sleeve. “Are you sure?”
Lesley nodded. “I want her to be absolutely certain that I know, and that...I’ll be okay.” She’d also check to see if she had an appointment with Berry while they were on 72. If not, she’d schedule one. She would be okay, in the sense that she wouldn’t be defeated. She’d be in a fighter that had lost all its defences and experienced massive structural damage, but had survived the worst of the opponent’s attacks and would fly another day. She believed that love and time would heal the hurt. She had no choice but to believe.
Mo leaned into her again. Lesley closed her eyes, then jumped when two comm units beeped twice in unison, piercing the silence. Thinking that it might be an urgent broadcast to all military personnel or Rymellans in general, Lesley reluctantly reached for her unit, held it up over Mo’s shoulder, and softly snorted. A dispatch from Jayne. She read it and shook her head.
“What?” Mo stepped back.
“Jayne has impeccable timing.”
Mo chuckled. “That’s the first time that’s happened.”
“She just met with Catherine Moss, who wants to know what our sleeping arrangements will be in our new home.”
“You’re kidding.”
Lesley wished she was. Then again, one uncomfortable conversation would be better than two. “Why don’t we all have lunch here tomorrow? Afterward we can talk about this and 72.”
“We were thinking of getting together with her anyway.” Mo shoved her hands into her pockets. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Sure that she couldn’t hold them back. Sure that she was about to walk through a raging fire, and hoping that she’d make it to the other side, that she wouldn’t be trapped in a burning room forever.
*****
Wanting a glass of water before she rode over to Les’s, Mo bounded down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Les had insist
ed that they pick up Jayne together. Even though Mo suspected that Les was trying to show that she wasn’t upset about their conversation—or wasn’t letting her emotions get the better of her, at least—Mo had readily agreed. Whatever Les needed right now, she’d get, regardless of her reason for asking.
When Mo entered the kitchen, Andrew looked up from a bowl of soup. “You’re not at the workshop today?” she asked, only because he’d moped around the house yesterday, too. Would he and Ann please resolve whatever problem they were experiencing?
“I’m not feeling well,” he said sullenly.
She filled a glass with water and leaned against the counter to study him. He looked healthy to her, though a little tired. His troubles with Ann must be keeping him up at night. “So what’s up with you and Ann?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. She kept snapping my head off on 72, and you’ve been dragging yourself around the house ever since I got back.”
He stared into his soup. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because I’m here, asking you. What’s going on? Did you have a fight?”
“She didn’t tell you anything?”
“No.”
Andrew sighed and stirred his soup. She was about to suggest that he go up to 72 and talk it out with Ann when she realized that, as far as she knew, he’d never visited Ann on 72. They weren’t Chosens, but 72 wasn’t strictly a military installation. It wasn’t against the rules to have civilian visitors. “Why don’t you go up to 72 and see her?” she said, interested in Andrew’s reaction. When he shook his head, she asked, “Have you ever been up to see her on 72?”
“No.”
“Why not? There’s nothing—”
“She didn’t want me there, okay!”
“Okay, okay.” She didn’t have to be a mind reader to see that he was hurt by that.
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