The Stars Blue Yonder

by Sandra McDonald

  Twig and Kyle had met Homer a few times already, very briefly: Homer didn’t seem very comfortable around kids, though, and rarely stayed to talk long. Twig didn’t like Homer at all, and his arrival, on top of Kyle’s disappearance, was maybe the reason she now burst into new tears.

  “Please stop crying,” Myell said, because he couldn’t take that helpless sound on top of all the other things that had gone wrong recently. He pulled her close against his leg and rubbed her back. “He can’t be far.”

  Homer pulled out a scanner and turned in a circle. “No sign of him, Gamps.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Providence,” Homer replied promptly. “Seven months or so after you died. Friday night. And your lovely pregnant bride is just up that hill over there. You should go see her.”

  Pregnant with Lisa, then. With Twig’s mom. Myell pushed that thought away. “I have to find Kyle first. Keep scanning.”

  “Maybe she can help,” Homer said. “Maybe she’s seen him. She could find out. She has a radio to the settlement and to the Outpost.”

  Myell wasn’t sure he could take another rejection from Jodenny. The dull ache under his breastbone had grown worse every time she looked at him blankly or with disregard. Then again, Kyle was wandering out here in the woods somewhere, and if the ouroboros took Myell and Twig away before they were reunited, Kyle’s life would vanish like a puff of smoke. Maybe Jodenny could be of help with that, at least.

  “Which way?” Myell asked.

  Homer pointed. And though he couldn’t possibly be truly cold, he shivered and tugged up his collar. “Better hurry. Weather’s going to turn worse before it gets better.”

  That, Myell could believe. “Come on,” he said, and started walking with Twig pasted to his side. When Myell looked back, Homer had disappeared again.

  Jodenny’s feet started moving faster. She hurried down the open hillside as fast her pregnancy allowed.

  “Hey, wait—” Homer said.

  The grass was soft and spongy beneath her sandals. The wind kicked up and cold air wafted up Jodenny’s sleeves to her still-damp bathing suit. She had the sudden fear Homer was a figment of her hormone-overwhelmed imagination, that she’d suddenly gone insane. Pregnancy psychosis.

  At the bottom of the slope she stopped to frantically scan the trees. The silver-green grass rippled in the wind and the trees bowed left and right but there was no dead husband, miraculously returned.

  No one walked out of the woods.

  She wasn’t sure what was worse—getting her hopes up and having them so cruelly crash down again, or the burning embarrassment that she’d believed it could be true. Homer appeared off to her side, staying at an arm’s length away. Perhaps he was afraid she was going to punch him. His green velvet coat billowed in the breeze. Hadn’t he just been wearing purple?

  The important thing was Myell. Who was not here at all.

  “Liar,” she said.

  “I don’t lie,” he insisted, and pointed to the trees behind her.

  Jodenny almost didn’t look. But there, stepping out of the trees. The man she’d loved and lost, with a child at his side.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  They stood five meters apart, neither moving forward.

  Myell looked terrible in the light from her flashlight. Hollow-cheeked, skinnier than usual, his hair longer than military regulations permitted. She didn’t know what he thought of her, but couldn’t imagine that her huge belly, beach-blown hair, and bloated features were very impressive.

  “Nana,” the girl said. “Kyle’s lost.”

  Myell didn’t say anything.

  Jodenny forced herself forward on trembling legs. When she was close enough to touch him, she stopped. He was doing nothing, saying nothing, but in his eyes she saw wariness and resignation. As if he expected her to turn him aside, to deny him everything.

  Jodenny reached out very slowly and cupped his face. He tried to flinch away but she held him firm and stared into his eyes. The cold hard knot in her chest didn’t unwind, but it shifted fractionally. His skin was pale and soft, cool to her fingers. His lips, under her thumb, were warm.

  “Hey,” she said. “Aren’t you dead?”

  Around them, the wind stilled suddenly. The girl and Homer said nothing. The world had narrowed to only Jodenny and Myell, and her hand on his cheeks, and a crushing sensation so great that Jodenny thought she might collapse under its weight.

  “You came back,” she said.

  His hands closed on hers and gently pried them away. He opened his mouth and she knew, with dreaded certainty, that he was about to say, “Not for long” or “I can’t stay.” If she heard those words surely she’d break apart. To block them she pressed her mouth against his and kissed him hard. Tears streamed out of her eyes. Grief fled, along with fear and uncertainty. He was here, he was here now, solid and unresisting as her hands swept down his shoulders to his waist.

  He didn’t move. He was a warm statue, still but for his breathing, no response under her lips and palms, under the press of her the baby between them, while her tears dampened his skin.

  His unresponsiveness made her draw back in slow horror. This man wasn’t her husband after all. Or, if he was, he no longer loved her. How else to explain his passive resistance, his indifference? Jodenny stepped back with a sick churn in her belly. Myell caught her arm and then waist and pulled her to his chest.

  “Kay,” he said, with more grief than she expected. He buried his face against her neck and breathed deeply of her skin, and squeezed her so close they both could feel Junior kicking in protest or happiness.

  “Uncle Terry,” the little girl said, tugging on Myell’s arm. “We have to find Kyle. And it’s raining.”

  Jodenny reluctantly let him go. Now that she was paying attention, she could feel the pelt of cool raindrops on her skin.

  “This is Twig,” Myell said, sounding embarrassed. “Your granddaughter.”

  “Oh.” Jodenny looked at the little girl. She decided to reserve judgment on the “granddaughter” bit for later. “Hello. Who’s Kyle?”

  “Grandson,” Homer said succinctly. Then he added more information. “Lost grandson.”

  Myell squinted at him. “You could make yourself useful for a change and go find him.”

  “Can’t help you there, Gampa, but you three better take cover. Storm’s here.”

  An impressive crack of lightning split down the sky, thunder close behind it. Twig flinched and Myell cast a worried look upward. “How far are we from town?”

  “Too far,” Jodenny said. “And too far from the Outpost. We’ll have to take shelter somewhere else. There are caves—”

  “We know,” Twig interrupted. “We’ve been there lots of times.”

  Jodenny gave Myell a sharp look. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Sort of. Long story. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

  No, it wasn’t okay, because he’d been here before and never told her. Had never approached her, never made contact in any way, while she was grieving and carrying their child and trying to find a way to make a life without him.

  “Time travel,” Homer reminded her, with a cheeky grin. “His ‘before’ is still in your future, Gamsa. Caves sound good, though, right? You should get moving.”

  Myell reached for Jodenny’s beach bag to carry it for her. She snagged her towel off the top and said, “Here, Twig, wrap yourself in this.”

  “I’m hungry,” Twig said, sniffing back tears. “And what’ll Kyle do in the rain? He’ll get wet.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Myell promised. “Come on. Let’s hurry.”

  Jodenny held Twig’s hand as they ducked past tree branches. The woods opened up into another hillside, this one slippery with mud and wet grass. The rain slanted down harder, stinging her face. More lightning, more thunder, and she tried not think about what would happen if one of them was actually struck by a bolt. Myell led them down toward the river, which was a dark gushing torrent in her flashl
ight’s glare. Jodenny looked for Homer, but he had disappeared.

  “We lost your friend,” Jodenny said.

  “He’s not my friend,” Myell replied. “He’ll be fine.”

  It was a drenching, quarter-mile trek along the muddy banks until they came to Balandra Bridge. The metal footbridge stretched across the narrowest part of the river to the rocky hill and caves on the other side. It was only ten meters long and had two sturdy handrails along its length. Engineer techs from the ship had made it with safety and durability in mind. The river was running high, but was well below the metal treads.

  “Twig, you’re going to have to go first,” Myell said. “I’m right here behind you, okay? Jodenny, you stay here and I’ll come back to help.”

  She almost argued with him, but he was already gone and helping Twig across. She started crossing by her own damn self, thank you very much. She kept her steps slow and sure, and held tight to the rain-slicked rails.

  Myell reached the other side and started back.

  “I told you to wait!” he said over the rain as he drew close.

  “I can do it myself!” she shouted back.

  Which was exactly when her right foot slipped out from under her. She lost both her balance and grip. Her right knee slammed into a support beam, her left leg slid over the water, and something twisted deep in her left hip.

  She was dimly aware of Myell grabbing her under her arms but he seemed distant, dreamlike. Maybe she had also hit her head. Twig was saying, “Nana! Nana!,” and Myell said, “Keep going. I’ve got her.”

  Jodenny couldn’t see much in the darkness but the pain in her right knee and left hip were like burning bonfires, hot and red. She felt Myell lift her. She didn’t envy him that, not considering how heavy and ungainly she’d gotten with the baby.

  The baby. She couldn’t feel it kicking or moving at all, and fear made her gasp out against Myell’s neck.

  “He’s not moving,” she said.

  “Easy.” His broad hand cupped the back of her head. “She’s fine. You’re both okay.”

  “She?” Jodenny asked.

  “Sssh,” he said, and then they were moving again through the darkness and rain. “Let me do all the work.”

  He sounded worried and that made her feel bad, because she hadn’t wanted him to come all the way from the dead just to fret over her. Still, it was a relief to rest her head against his shoulder. She felt cherished and warm despite the pain in her knee and hip. Myell was murmuring again, soothing words that slowly took on a harder edge.

  “It’s okay, you’re okay, but I need you to wake up now. Open your eyes, Jodenny.”

  She thought her eyes already were open. Jodenny forced the lids apart and instantly regretted it. Light stabbed at her from the flashlight. She, Myell, and Twig were crammed into some dark sloping enclosure that smelled like mud and old leaves, and the ground was hard beneath her. She was resting with her back against Myell, who was in turn wedged up against a stone wall with Twig at his side. Junior was quiet, but when she poked her side he kicked back.

  “There’s no room for a real fire,” Myell said, apologetic. “But we’ve got a heat globe.”

  From one of his pockets he produced a crystal ball and set it down on the dirt. A moment later, the ball flared red and began emitting a comforting warmth. She had seen some of those before, though she couldn’t remember where.

  “Where did you get that?” Jodenny asked.

  Myell’s answer was indistinct.

  “A what?” Jodenny asked.

  “Gift shop,” Myell said.

  Twig said, “Kyle stole it. On Kiwi. Uncle Terry, I’m starving.”

  Jodenny had been to Kiwi before, with Osherman. She pushed aside the memory and said, “There are some apples in my beach bag.”

  Twig immediately began rummaging.

  “How do you feel?” Myell asked.

  “Confused,” she said. “Where did you come from? Why does she call you her uncle?”

  “Well,” Myell said slowly, “we’ve sort of been coming from all over. There’s a blue ouroboros. It drags us this way and that way, from the future to the past and back again.”

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  He put his hand on her belly. “This is Lisa. She’ll get married one day and Twig is hers.”

  “But—” Jodenny started, then stopped. She’d told Ensign Collins not to tell her the baby’s gender. She said she wanted it to be a surprise. Yet she was sure it was a little boy.

  “I want my mom,” Twig said, around the bits of apple in her mouth. She wiped at her eyes with a dirty hand. “We haven’t been home in weeks and weeks.”

  Jodenny said, “Come here, lie with me,” until the girl nestled against her chest. Jodenny stroked Twig’s hair, soothing out knots. “Is Kyle your brother?”

  “Cousin,” Myell said. “How’s your leg? Did you break anything?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, which was mostly true. She still hurt from the fall but not too badly. The heat globe was warm and her clothes were beginning to dry out. Myell was a comfortable cushion beneath her.

  Myell asked, “Are they going to come looking for you? From town?”

  “They shouldn’t,” Jodenny said. “I’m supposed to be at the Outpost. Where’s my gib?”

  He held it up. “I think it broke when you fell on it.”

  So it had. Jodenny put it aside and instead traced the line of Myell’s jaw with her fingers. So strong, always so strong for her. She moved closer to kiss him, awakening the fire in her knee and hip. The baby chose that moment to kick so hard that Twig jerked backward.

  “I felt that!” Twig said.

  “He kicks a lot at night,” Jodenny said, gasping around the discomfort. “Or she, I guess. You’re sure it’s a girl?”

  Myell kissed her forehead “A daughter. Lisa.”

  Twig said, “Mom’s the town doctor. In the future.”

  Jodenny’s goosebumps rose again. That the unborn daughter in her womb would one day have this daughter was an idea too bizarre to contemplate.

  Myell shifted. “Kyle’s still out there. I have to go look for him.”

  “No.” Jodenny clutched his arm as fear flared in her, bright and cold. “You can’t go.”

  Carefully he slid out from beneath her, though he couldn’t really go far with his arm trapped under her fingers. He met her gaze squarely. “I have to. He’s only thirteen years old. He could be hurt or stuck somewhere.”

  “And he has to be back before we leave,” Twig said.

  The fear inside Jodenny transmuted into a full-fledged panic. “Leave for where?”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Myell said firmly, with a pointed look at Twig. “Don’t scare her.”

  “The ring comes and takes us away,” Twig said. “Whether we want it to or not.”

  Jodenny said, “I’m coming with you,” but when she tried to move her hip and knee both flared into hotness.

  “Kay, listen to me.” Myell crouched low. “I have to find Kyle. I’ll be back as soon as I do. You and Twig will be fine here until I get back.”

  Twig shook her head vehemently. “No! I want you to stay.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Jodenny insisted.

  Myell kissed her cheek, his breath hot. “I have to. He’s just a kid. I can’t leave him out there. I’ll be back right away, I promise.”

  Jodenny had never met Kyle. He was just an idea, an abstract grandson. And right now Myell was more important than he was, even if that made her the worst grandmother in the galaxy. She was sure her feelings showed on her face, because Myell cupped both cheeks and kissed her again. Hard and claiming, his lips tasting like salt.

  “The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back,” Myell said. “I promise.”

  He was a damned liar, of that she was sure. He was going to walk out of the cave and out of her life again, and Jodenny couldn’t do anything to stop him. She let go of his arm and wiped at her watery eyes.
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  “You better be,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Myell gave her a shaky smile, grabbed the flashlight, and stepped over Twig to exit into the rain.

  Jodenny turned her attention to her granddaughter.

  “Tell me about this ring,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

  The torrential rain had eased to a steady cold drizzle. Myell didn’t worry too much about it. Wet was wet and no amount of complaining would make it better. He eased himself carefully down the slope outside the river caves and started back across the bridge.

  “Kyle!” he yelled out. “Answer me!”

  If the kid was smart, he’d have found some kind of shelter for himself and holed up until the storm passed. The possibility existed that he’d hiked all the way to Providence in a quest to find help, though things hadn’t gone well there in the last eddy they’d swung through. It was hard to say what Kyle would do, however. He was stubborn to the point of muleheadedness, like his grandfather. Wouldn’t accept a helping hand unless he was dying. Maybe not even then.

  The dark trees whipped back and forth, and the wind drove water into Myell’s eyes. He tried wiping them clear but rain filled them up just as fast again. His shoes squelched in the mud.

  “Kyle!” he yelled again.

  He made it over the hill and down again, following the river upstream through thick woods. Myell kept his arms wrapped over his chest and tried to think of warm memories, sun, deserts, barren hot wastelands, anything but this sodden forest and wretched storm. He slipped and went down hard, and rested for a moment in the cold mud with his face turned to the rain. He was drenched and uncomfortable but in a way the weather was better than explosions, than people dying or being disappointed in him.

  A face appeared over him.

  “What are you doing?” Kyle asked, scornfully.

  “Nothing,” Myell forced out. “Looking for you.”

  “I’m right here.”

  Myell hauled himself up and nearly banged up against Kyle’s companion. Osherman, drenched as they were, his face startling white in a lightning strike. Osherman gazed at him without any sign of familiarity. Myell might as well have been a total stranger. True enough, they hadn’t spent much time together on the Aral Sea. But they’d been trapped in the Wondjina network together for a short time, and the lack of recognition was unnerving.