Shalia's Diary Book 11

by Tracy St. John

  Larten had the usual humorous observations of his trainees’ general worthlessness beyond being paperweights and doorstops. He had us laughing in short order at the novice flubs that come with a new class. I’ve decided that it’s only a bad day for him if someone doesn’t do something silly, which robs him of the chance to come up with a colorful insult or two.

  Seot cheerfully reported that his company is in line to get a couple new contracts for some new defensive technology he’s really excited about. Mentally, he was in a good place too.

  Cifa’s day was not particularly noteworthy, which was fine with him. “No surprises, no calamities, no one screaming at me,” he chuckled. “I enjoy it when things go the way they’re supposed to. Oh, and I heard from Ila that she’s approved Candy’s preliminary childcare training program.”

  “I’m glad to hear of that.” I was happy for my friend.

  “But what about your day, my Matara?” Seot asked, his gaze warm as he reached out to take my hand. “Did work and therapy go well?”

  “Both went great. Therapy had an interesting development.”

  “Oh?”

  I told them about Dr. Cafir’s suggestion that I work with Hina for both our sakes. “I like the idea of helping her out, but it would mean relaxing the proximity restrictions.”

  The guys were silent as they thought the matter over. Larten spoke first. “I have worries about it. Not so much where you’re concerned, my Matara, but I don’t really agree with the idea of her being close to Anrel. Not until she’s gotten farther in her recovery.”

  “The restraining order could be kept in place between Hina and our daughter, while allowing her and Shalia to interact in a supervised situation,” Seot mused.

  “I’m fine with that,” Larten said. “Although, if Matara Hina’s clan is present, I’d prefer to be there as well.”

  “Suspicious Nobek,” I said affectionately. “The men didn’t grab Anrel.”

  “I know, but I’m traumatized.” He pretended to tremble, turning what I knew were his very real anxieties into a joke.

  “I can insist on conditions, if Hina and her therapist even agree to this,” I said. “It can be me, her, and our doctors.”

  “I can juggle my responsibilities so Anrel can stay with me during those sessions,” Cifa offered.

  “Candy can do so too. She needs a live baby prop for some of the staff training anyway,” I said. “I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to show I trust her taking care of Anrel after what happened.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” Seot opined. He looked at the other two men. They nodded. “All right. I have to say, my Matara, I am impressed with your consideration for Matara Hina’s problems. You could have simply walked away from her situation, letting her cope with it on her own. That you would be this unselfish makes me proud to be your clanmate.”

  I felt embarrassed to be praised so enthusiastically. “Meaning, you thought I was selfish before all this?”

  “Not for one second,” he laughed. “But you’ve gone beyond my expectations.”

  Sure, I’ve had problems accepting my good fortune with this clan. Yet most of the time it feels as if we instinctively know each other so well that there can be no surprises. I’m glad I can inspire the guys to sit up and take notice once in a while.

  January 29

  I had my first co-session with Hina and her therapist, Dr. Conyod, today. Once we were all in agreement and we got the amended court order squared away, the doctors wasted not a single moment in putting us together.

  I got the idea it was more because of Conyod’s encouragement than Hina wanting to face me. At the outset, she was quiet, speaking in monosyllables. She appeared embarrassed. I couldn’t blame her. I’d have reacted the same way.

  I like Conyod. He’s an earnest guy, with a gentle demeanor. He’s also quite handsome and bounding with muscles. His wavy hair reaches all the way to his ogle-worthy butt. If my guys saw him, they might be a bit jealous…though I’m not interested in any men but them. Conyod is kind from what I can tell, but he doesn’t smile much. He has a perpetually worried look on his face. It kind of makes me wonder what’s the story behind the scenes of his life, but I have enough of my own concerns. I’m stretching myself enough with finding out if I can be of any help to Hina.

  “There is a lot of going on with Matara Hina,” Conyod explained to Dr. Cafir and me after we’d gotten introductions and niceties out of the way. “Of course, there is the real and profound grief that comes with losing a child for any reason. Even realizing that the odds were against her delivering healthy daughters, it didn’t make it any easier.”

  “That was shocking,” Hina said in a low voice. “I thought I was prepared for the worst. I really did. When it happened, it was as if someone had reached into my chest and ripped a piece of my heart out. When it happened a second time, it was just as awful.”

  “A second time?” I was startled. “I thought there was only the one daughter.”

  “I miscarried the second long before term but—well, it still felt like a loss.”

  “It was a loss, and you have the entitlement to grieve. They were your children,” Conyod told her gently. “You might have prepared yourself as much as possible, but it’s a phenomenal tragedy nonetheless.”

  She nodded. “I thought I was being ridiculous to feel it so intensely. If you know something is probably about to happen, why should it be such a surprise when it does? I thought I was a fool. After I grieved for what I thought must be an appropriate amount, I made myself pretend I wasn’t hurting. I hid it from my clan too, crying only when they weren’t around to see me.” Tears tracked down her cheeks.

  I had to swallow the urge to cry with her. The pain that suffused her wanted to drag me in too.

  “Then there’s the pressure that comes with being a Kalquorian woman,” Conyod added, his expression filled with compassion. “First the pressure to be fertile. Then the pressure to produce a living daughter who is also fertile. None of these are matters Hina has control over, yet she, similar to so many of our women, experiences guilt for having failed in that regard.”

  “It is something we all have to cope with,” my doctor concurred.

  Once again, I wondered about Dr. Cafir’s fertility. Could she have children? Did she have children? Had she given birth to daughters, dead or alive? Her caring look for Hina gave no indication.

  Hina gazed at me. “You have no idea what it’s like,” she whispered. “My three girlfriends from childhood are considered worse off than I am. I am the sole member of group who is able to have children at all. When the rest learned they were infertile, it made them feel as if they were less as women. Less as people. Important clans no longer vied for them. They were still wanted by many clans because there are so few women, but not as much as I was. I couldn’t talk with them afterwards about my problems, because as far as they were concerned, I shouldn’t have problems. I was fertile. I was wanted above all other women. I had no right to complain about anything.”

  “That must have been tough,” I said, hearing how weak my support sounded. “You needed friends to talk to, maybe more than anybody else would. Especially when you lost your girls. But you had—oh, what’s your friend’s name, the one I’ve seen you with on several occasions. Matara Oni, correct?”

  Hina dabbed at her face with a handkerchief. “She became my friend later, after my daughters passed on. We’ve shared a little since then, but it’s not gotten deep. Either she is better than moving past her pain than I am, or she’s better at hiding it.”

  Conyod recorded a note on his handheld. “At any rate, you had no one you felt close enough to in order to discuss the losses when they happened.”

  “Your clanmates? Your mother? Surely she would sympathize with some of the trials you’ve had,” I ventured. I knew most Kalquorian women’s clanships were arranged for them. It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn Hina didn’t have a great attachment to her mates.

  “My mother has
been a source of strength, but the daughter she had lived, didn’t she? Her attitude is I should keep trying, though the odds are against me. Even though I don’t have the strength for another dead baby.”

  Yeah. I could see her point.

  “As for my clanmates, they have always been wonderful to me. I’m positive they love me as much as I love them.” Hina’s smile was tremulous. “Still, each loss made me feel as if they’d struck a bad bargain. That I wasn’t what they’d signed on for. And then to have shamed them by trying to steal your child! But all they’ve said is, ‘Tell us what we can do to help you heal’.” She welled up again and couldn’t speak for some time after that.

  “I’m glad they care,” I told her. “That was a big worry for me, that they weren’t taking your pain seriously. Sorry, Dr. Conyod, but I’m afraid I don’t give men a lot of credit when it comes to such things.”

  “Shalia’s father abandoned her when she was a child,” Cafir told him. “Fears of such are what brought her to me.”

  “Ah.” Conyod appeared to understand. “None of your clanmates are military, are they?” When I told him they weren’t, he said, “Excellent. No one with abandonment problems should be clanned to soldiers. Deployments are difficult for those left behind to wait and worry. I’m glad it’s nothing you have to contend with.”

  My doctor addressed Hina. “Shalia has not lost a child, but she’s come close to it. That’s why she has such empathy for your case, rather than anger. Perhaps you’d like to hear her story?”

  Hina nodded, so I told her about the It, the Bi’isil monstrosity that had invaded my body and tried hard to kill Anrel in the womb. Hina and Conyod exclaimed over the tale. I found myself with a renewed urge to protect my child from every danger. Which I can’t do. Somehow, I’m going to have to make peace with that. I’m hoping working with Hina will help me along with helping her.

  When I ended the story, Hina wrung her hankie in her hands as if she’d tear it to pieces. “After all that, I tried to take her from you! How can you not hate me?”

  “Because I get the pain of near loss,” I answered. “I have a hint of the hole that losing a child would leave in a mother’s soul. I don’t claim to know the incredible pain you’ve gone through, but I do have an idea of it.”

  Despite that, I don’t suppose Hina understands why I can’t hate or even dislike her. But she accepted my intentions are valid and agreed with no reservations to more co-therapy sessions.

  It’s a good start, I think.

  January 30

  Life continues to be on a pretty nice upswing. I went to work today to find most of my department has the equipment it needs to operate. I’ve even got a couple of people to work with now, a Dramok and an Imdiko who have a lot of experience with vid promotions. We spent the morning brainstorming the campaign that will tell the public of the new child-friendly care that will soon be offered on the ships.

  With a ton of questions our meeting had brought up, I arranged to have lunch with Candy. I needed to gain some insights on how her department is shaping up. She’s been busy, what with lining up medic training for her caregivers and consulting with early education specialists.

  “Do you ever sleep?” I asked her with a laugh.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” she snickered as she gave Anrel a taste of her soup. “I’m also beginning to recruit people to my cause of non-traditional clans. The inaugural meeting is in two weeks, and I’m hearing of interest in other chapters opening over all the continents. We’re going to do a vid conference so the whole gang can get on board at once.”

  “You’ve been campaigning hard,” I praised. “When do you plan to send me a file for an informational vid?”

  “After that first meeting. I want to hear from one and all on what it is they want to happen. You can do more if I figure out all the best talking points possible.”

  When our two-hour lunch was over—I promise, most of it was business!—we went back to our offices. Candy took Anrel with her so she could teach her initial class on basic baby care.

  I returned to my office to find Cifa hanging out in my chair behind my desk, tapping on his handheld computer. “Please tell me I didn’t forget a meeting,” I said, worried I’d kept him waiting.

  “You didn’t. I snuck away from my office about ten minutes ago. I’m the creep who’s being a bad executive.”

  “Oh? What are you skipping out on?”

  “A conference with some of our vendors.” He pulled a face. “I hate negotiating prices on food and other supplies. Erom is much better at that kind of thing than I am.”

  “I’m sure he’s got the situation well handled. You can hide out with me any time,” I said. I came around the desk and checked my computer for any incoming matters of interest.

  “I’d feel better about it if I was doing something productive. Got anything you need to consult with me on?”

  I was delighted, both with his suggestion and a message on my computer from my new head editor, Dramok Zendar. “It’s your lucky day, big guy. We’ve got the first pass for the promotional vid for the littlest boat in the fleet.”

  “It’s a ship, Shalia. There is a difference between a boat and a ship.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Four different letters. Let’s have a look at this spot, okay? The campaign kicks off in less than a week.”

  Cifa raked his fingers through his hair, tangling the long black locks. “Don’t remind me. I’m starting to lose sleep over it.”

  He’d been growing increasingly antsy as the small yacht’s official unveiling loomed closer. Seot had told me Cifa tended to become a tad snappish with anxiety when any new promotion loomed on the horizon. “If he says something less than pleasant, try not to take it personally,” our Dramok counseled. “And be assured, I’ll take it out of his hide if he hurts your feelings.”

  Forewarned, I was determined not to take Cifa’s rollercoaster emotions to heart. He had enough pressure with this launch without Seot taking him to task. Besides, most of Cifa’s growing sparks of temper hadn’t been aimed at people, unless they made the mistake of saying boats were ships. What really set him off these days were situations. Like having to meet with vendors who wanted to sell his company crates of wedi herbs, leshella, and imported rizpah caviar from the Yulsh Sea. Frankly, having to deal with that kind of mundane nonsense would make me grumpy too.

  Fortunately, the spot we’d shot and I’d written was close to perfection. Cifa was delighted to see how well it married his concept of family and adventure. His praise for my efforts was effusive. It gave him one less thing to worry about when it came to the ship’s upcoming public debut.

  Overall, I was pleased too. I wrote about half a dozen notes to Zendar to tighten a scene here, extend another there, and to beef up the natural sound in some places.

  “Half a second?” Cifa laughed as he noted the tighter cuts I wanted. “I thought I was nitpicky when it came to the tiny details.”

  “Half a second is forever in a two-minute promo,” I told him, sending the file and my instructions to Zendar. “Trust your Matara on that. I’ve been doing this gig for a long, long time. Even if I did take over a year off for my world getting blown up and escaping it, I still remember the important stuff.”

  “Of course I trust you,” Cifa said, his gaze on me growing warm. “In fact, your diligence deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

  He pulled me onto his lap, kissing me with a thoroughness that left no doubt as to what my trophy would be. The moment I was able to come up for air, I called out, “Door lock. Computer, leave a message to anybody who coms or visits. I cannot be disturbed until further notice.”

  “Don’t you love being your own boss for the most part?” Cifa snickered, peeling off my blouse and bra to nuzzle my breasts.

  “I love that you’re my boss and you approve of my executive decisions,” I groaned as his mouth closed on a nipple.

  He sucked first one and then the other with great enthusiasm, making me squir
m all over his lively lap. He laughed and gripped me tight, holding me still for his continued attentions. As his rough tongue scraped over sensitive flesh, my insides fired hot. He bit gently, indenting the mound. I gasped as need, immediate and fierce, barreled through me.

  “You’ve been a very good Matara lately,” Cifa purred. “I don’t suppose you’ve done anything naughty behind my back? Something I should bend you over this desk and spank you for?”

  Ugh, it was awful to deserve no punishment. My desk had not yet been christened in a sexual manner. It seemed important we do so. Lucky for us, I had a suggestion to make up for being on my best behavior as of late. “I’m sure I’ll find some trouble to get into in the future. Maybe a reminder of why I should ignore temptation would be in order.”