In the twenty-four hours since her parents had learned of Dianta’s birth, Beth’s dad had apparently purchased every baby gadget sold in a first world country. Dianta sat strapped inside a purple baby carrier, perched on the cluttered granite countertop in Ted and Carole’s kitchen. She looked like a bald squirrel in a frilly doll dress. Slumped in the very bottom of the seat, she snored with a gusto equal to a man with at least fifty years on her. Piles of unopened boxes and bags crammed the normally immaculate room.
“Hot refill?” Carole asked, pushing a steaming teapot past an assortment of pacifiers, rattles, stuffed animals, and glass bottles. She motioned to the sandwiches she was preparing. “Do you want avocado on your sandwich?”
Beth nodded, but made no move for the teapot. Yesterday when she had arrived, Carole had hardly said a word about her new granddaughter, taking in Dianta’s existence with the same stoic silence she’d given her nearly seven foot son-in-law the previous year. Still, Carole seemed taken with Dianta, and alternated between touching her granddaughter and taking the baby seat with her when she moved around the kitchen. Not once in the months since Beth had married Kahtar had her mother asked why they hadn’t seen him since the wedding, or why they were never invited to Beth’s new home, or even why only six months into her pregnancy Beth had shown up with a perfectly healthy, impossibly small baby.
Carole returned to the counter with both the baby and sandwiches and pushed a sandwich in front of Beth. She moved around the island and took the stool next to Beth, tugging the baby seat like a snowplow through all the baby paraphernalia until it rested against her elbow.
“Eat,” Carole ordered, ignoring her own sandwich as she ran her fingers over Dianta’s miniscule ears.
Beth pulled her sandwich closer and tried to rouse herself. No matter what happened, she had to play the part. Cultuelle Khristos could take her away from her family forever if she didn’t, or worse.
“Where’s Dad?” she managed.
“He drove all the way out to Erie this morning to try to get some sort of heated crib for preemies. I told him you wouldn’t use it, but you know your father. I think he’s just trying to wrap his head around all this.”
Beth took a deep breath. All this was dangerous territory. “She’s healthy. She doesn’t need it.”
“I know. He’ll probably just come home with all the junk to make halo-halo ice-cream for you two.” Carole moved one hand to pick up her sandwich and took a bite. Across the kitchen Beth could see the two of them reflected in the spotless chrome of the refrigerator, two oddly similar blonde blurs: Carole with her short cropped hair wearing her usual plain t-shirt and olive pants, and Beth with longer hair, dressed in—she had to look down to confirm what she was wearing—the same pink dress she had been wearing when Kahtar went berserk yesterday. It occurred to her that despite Welcome’s healing there were probably bloodstains on it, and even if there weren’t, she was covered in bruises. Outside the kitchen window on the sunny patio Beth spotted a shimmer of light. Old Guard. Crap.
“Do you need more shampoo from my shop, Mom? It’s doing nice things to your hair.” It was the best Beth could do—not having the ability to lie could be a telethon worthy handicap in her opinion.
“Sure. Your dad’s still out of that tea you gave him, too. Do you need a napkin?” Carole asked, uncharacteristically participating in small talk. She stopped toying with Dianta long enough to grab two napkins and push one under Beth’s elbow.
Beth’s mind raced, searching for another safe topic. “That tea is popular. I should be able to get some more soon,” she said at last, hoping the Old Guard heard her. Brack tea was an Old Guard favorite, and apparently hard to come by. Maybe they were outside just to make sure she was safe in the seeker world, or maybe they were out there making certain she kept the unspoken vow of secrecy required of all Covenant Keepers. There was no way to know for sure, unless she got it wrong.
Her mother pushed the napkin closer to Beth’s sandwich plate. Since when does Mom use paper napkins? Beth reached for it but paused before picking it up. Something was written on it in pencil.
Do you need to disappear?
Her mother had gone back to playing with Dianta’s ears, but Beth saw her watching out the corner of her eye. Shit.
Beth’s hand trembled, and she moved it away from the napkin to nab her sandwich instead. Shoving a bite into her dry mouth, she chewed. What does Mom know? How does she know? Beside her Carole took a deep, calming breath, and both Beth and the sleeping baby automatically followed suit.
She knows I showed up battered and lost with Dianta. She knows I spent hours in my room crying yesterday. She knows I left the baby with her in the middle of the night and returned this morning like a zombie. What am I going to do? Beth glanced at Dianta; her mother’s petting was waking her. Turning her focus back to her sandwich Beth gave a subtle shake of her head. Even if it were possible to disappear from Cultuelle Khristos, she’d given her word—and her heart.
Carole put her hand flat on the counter and made a slight circular motion with her finger. It took Beth several beats to figure out to flip the napkin over.
Did he hit you?
Beth turned her eyes toward her mother, fighting tears. She couldn’t imagine a world where Kahtar would hit her. Not even a day ago it would have been inappropriately laughable. Beth thought of the way he’d thrown the cradle against the fireplace, the way he’d blindly charged after her, swearing. She wished she’d left with the plebes instead of staying and trying to talk to him. But it was Kahtar’s behavior at fault, not hers. The memory of the look in his eye as he demolished the living room made gooseflesh break out over her body. Almost since she’d known him she’d understood what he was capable of, but not until then had she really understood what Kahtar could be if he wanted to. But Kahtar doesn’t want to. He isn’t a bad man. Beth glanced at her mother and suddenly knew if he were, she could leave and be safe.
But he’s not bad. He’s terrified. Not once had he hit her, but if she hadn’t run, if she hadn’t shielded Dianta from flying shrapnel, something equally as bad might have happened in his madness. Thankfully her mother’s question was easily answered.
“No,” she whispered, and jammed her sandwich into her mouth. He hadn’t hit her, and she was betting her life on the fact that he never would.
Carole palmed the napkin from beneath Beth’s elbow, tucked it inside her sandwich between the tomato and homemade bread, and ate it in four enormous bites. Chewing around a mouthful she said, “It looks like Dianta’s waking up.”
Beth somehow managed an acerbic answer. “Don’t pretend you didn’t wake her on purpose, Mom.”
Carole laughed and stood, unbuckling the carrier straps. She lifted Dianta and held the fussy baby against her torso.
“She has your husband’s eyes,” Carole said, examining the steady, fierce gaze of her tiny granddaughter.
Beth’s heart sank, leaving her unable to nod, smile, or pretend. What does it mean that Dianta has his eyes? She tried to sense the truth in her daughter’s gaze.
Carole frowned as she passed Dianta from her arms to Beth’s. “Is he a good man?”
Tears warmed Beth’s eyes, and she fought and failed to keep the telltale wobble out of her chin. All she could manage was a brief nod, but Carole didn’t move away, still touching the now squalling Dianta in Beth’s arms. Beth finally raised her eyes to look into the somewhat fierce gaze of her own mother.
“If you’ve given him your heart,” said Carole, “you need to make it right.”
ONE WEEK LATER Beth’s convertible shot through the veil, a blast of wind rocketing it roughly. Beth’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and from the backseat Dianta grumbled.
Towering trees rose on either side of the driveway. Thick patches of purple and white spring flowers greeted her. Returning to the veil for the first time in over a week made Beth’s eyes water, partly because of what had happened last time she’d been with Kahtar, and partly beca
use of pain and fear.
The pain in her pelvis reminded her Kahtar would have a reason to go justifiably ballistic this time. Tears prickled in her eyes.
I’m making it right. Kahtar will have to forgive me this time.
In her car seat Dianta whimpered, and Beth could feel her own fear and pain reflected in the touch of her baby’s heart. She glanced into the rearview mirror at her teeny baby curled up in the car seat like a little pill bug, her Kahtar-like eyes shiny with tears. For the first time in a week Beth’s emotions took control, and she lost it. She stopped the car halfway down the driveway, climbed out, slid her seat forward and leaned painfully into the backseat. Unbuckling Dianta, Beth held her baby close and kneeled on the dusty driveway, sobbing.
Maybe because this morning her dad had made a big deal about it being her first Mother’s Day, today the loss of other children seemed huge. There would only ever be Dianta. Beth couldn’t accept Kahtar’s hypothesis about immortality as truth—no matter how logical it seemed. She understood Dianta shouldn’t have Kahtar’s immortal eyes, but the eyes from the genes he carried. But Kahtar didn’t know anything about himself for certain, and when he had declared Dianta immortal like him, it had brushed roughly against Beth’s heart like an untruth.
Still, the memory of the look in Kahtar’s eyes during his madness couldn’t be denied. Beth knew truth when she saw it and Kahtar believed it. He would never risk inflicting his existence on another. She took a deep breath. Dianta is enough.
That reassuring thought cut through Beth’s tears, and Dianta followed suit, sniffling savagely and heaving a shaky sigh as she stopped crying the same moment Beth did. Beth kissed her, and tucked her into the backseat again. Bending over and straining with buckles and belts, Beth felt a vibration beneath the thin soles of her borrowed sneakers.
Beth straightened to spot Wolves racing through the weeds alongside the driveway, moving so fast the heads of purple and white flowers were weed-whacked right off their stems. A trail of them fell in Wolves’ wake. He looked worse than usual, his hair sticking up oddly. Beth quickly slid the driver’s seat back into place and hopped inside, closing the door. It was bad enough moving around and lifting Dianta; the dog hurtling against her might tear her stitches and reopen her new incision.
“No!” Beth snapped at him through the closed window.
He ignored her, slamming right into the car door. Rearing up on his hind legs, Wolves scratched frantically at the door. It wasn’t his usual enthusiastic greeting; the dog seemed terrified. Looking down the driveway at the path he’d ripped through the weeds, Beth saw high weeds moving. Something was chasing him, and judging by the movement, it was more than one something. Goose bumps prickled up Beth’s back and she swore under her breath as she opened the door and braced for impact.
Wolves crashed over her, clawing her legs with his toenails as he bolted into the far door in his rush to escape. Crumpling to the passenger floor, the dog attempted to dig a hole to hide in. The sound of Wolves’ pursuers made the hair on the back of Beth’s neck stand up. She’d heard that sound before, but only in Malaysia and India. For a split second she sat there, certain she had to be wrong, but it didn’t matter; she had Dianta in the backseat and Kahtar’s terrified dog next to her to protect.
Beth slammed the car door shut, laid her hand on the horn and held it there. Judging by the movement of the tall grass, whatever things were pursuing the dog took off into the woods.
Beth put the car in gear and accelerated. The sudden whip of the car hurt her abdomen. “Whatever you’ve stirred up, Wolves, I do not have time for it! I’m locking you in the house with me today!”
Wolves looked over at her, his half-blue eye looking crazed while the dark one appeared to be in agreement, as if he understood and was all for it. Holding one hand out to keep him in the passenger seat, Beth drove the last mile to the house. Kahtar’s police cruiser sat parked by the front steps, and she realized part of her had been hoping he’d be away.
For a minute she sat there, delaying the inevitable.
At last she opened her door. Wolves blasted across her lap, stepping on her abdomen. She gasped and blinked back tears. Climbing out and bending to get Dianta hurt even more. Beth tried to keep her movements normal in case Kahtar was scanning. If he was, she couldn’t feel it. Leaving the piles of baby gifts from her dad inside the car, she climbed the porch steps, crossed it and opened the screen door.
Wolves shoved in front of her and went straight to his belly, marine crawling across the floor like he did when Kahtar was around. And Kahtar was around. He sat sprawled on the sofa, legs wide, staring toward the kitchen without even a glance in her direction. Maybe he knows. The Old Guard might have told him. I know they were at the clinic with me.
“We’re home,” she said as normally as she could manage. “Did you get the message I left for you at the police station?”
“Yes.” Kahtar’s voice sounded hoarser than usual and he cleared it. He said nothing more about the message she’d left with the officer called Francis Snickerbacher.
K—I’ll be home next week. If I decide to stay there, I’ll explain about condoms. Love, Beth
Beth had sensed Francis’ embarrassment as he’d taken the message, but at the time she hadn’t cared.
“How are you?” Beth asked, and Kahtar looked in her direction, still avoiding direct eye contact.
“Are you kidding? How are you?”
“Oh, I’m just—” Beth stumbled on the next word, unable to force even a polite lie like fine out of her mouth, so she went with the truth. “I’m just wondering if the Old Guard remember who your first parents were.”
Kahtar’s mouth dropped open.
“Did you ever ask them?” she said.
He blinked but recovered quickly. “Do you honestly think you’re going to come up with an approach to uncover answers about me I haven’t considered or tried over the millennia?” He sounded annoyed.
“Yeah, I do,” said Beth.
Kahtar snorted and turned his head to face the kitchen again. Beth made her way slowly to the opposite couch. An area rug now covered most of the floor that Kahtar had torn up. The coffee table was gone, smashed to smithereens like the cradle. The rocking chair, end tables, shelves, armoire, and all the other wooden structures from the great room were gone too. The sofa Kahtar sat on looked battered, with stuffing showing through huge tears and flat stones where the wooden legs once were. Beth sat down on the opposite one, realizing the reason it looked intact was because it was new, and the glowing glass globe feet told her it had likely come from Cobbson Compound.
Kahtar watched her examination of the room. “For what it’s worth, Beth, I am sorry. It won’t happen again. I can promise you that much—for what that’s worth. My apology isn’t nearly enough, because it shouldn’t have happened at all.”
Beth held his gaze for a moment. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, Kahtar, and I think I would forgive you anything, unless that were to happen again.”
Dianta fussed, rooting for a breast and Beth turned her eyes from Kahtar’s. Feeling oddly shy after all that had passed between them, Beth slid the baby underneath her shirt to nurse her. His eyes went to the bump beneath her shirt, and she felt the warmth of a scan cut through her.
And here we go.
“What the—did you have to have some kind of surgery? Did I hurt you that much, Beth?” Kahtar looked thunderstruck.
“I had to have surgery, but it had nothing to do with your—episode. And no—you didn’t actually hit me. I didn’t get out of the way fast enough when you started throwing stuff around and—”
Kahtar looked pale. “You had your—you had that surgery seekers do so they don’t have children! Didn’t you?”
“Yes. And the good news is that means I’ve come home to stay—provided you go to counseling with Welcome.”
Kahtar put both his hands on his head and laughed.
“Is that funny?” Beth snapped.
“Not
even in the least. For the past week I’ve been mentally begging for your forgiveness, planning what I could say to make it better and how I could convince you it won’t happen again, but knowing there is nothing adequate. I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around Dianta’s fate, knowing I’ll never again be able to honorably integrate into a new clan in the future—not when I’ll be forever searching the world, looking for my repeating daughter. But once again you’ve managed to take my thoughts away from my own worries, Beth. You shouldn’t have done it this time. Eventually the clan will know you did it and they will judge you harshly.”
The clan already judged her harshly. Beth wanted to say she didn’t care what the clan thought, but that lie wouldn’t come. “But you’re not angry I did it?”
“I’m angry you didn’t discuss it with me first.”
“You wouldn’t have let me,” she said.
“That’s true,” Kahtar said. “I especially wouldn’t have allowed you to go to a clinic where they’d cut you open! You could get an infection! Come over here so I can heal your incision. Don’t be afraid to sit beside me, Beth. You know I would never hurt you on purpose.”
“You come over here,” Beth scowled. “I’m kind of busy, and it hurts to move.”
Kahtar made a faint sound of amusement again.
“Why is any of this amusing you? I faced the bloody facts and I did what needed to be done, Kahtar. I didn’t dare come home without having the surgery first. It’s not like Welcome Palmer would do it for me! I know it’s against the clan’s rules, against the ways of our people—but they don’t know our situation, do they? They don’t know you’re immortal! We belong together—none of what has happened changes that! What I’m trying to do is make it right between us.” Dianta fussed as Beth pried her off a breast and moved her to the other side. “And I know you wouldn’t risk another child.”
FOREVER The Constantines' Secret: A Covenant Keeper Novel Page 8