Brown, Berengaria - Shared Possession [Possessive Passions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (8 page)

Shit! She really, really hoped she didn’t get pregnant for a long time.

* * * *

At the seniors’ facility, although the garden was just being laid out, the two new settlers who were helping with the heavy work had brought out several benches so the seniors could sit and watch them till the earth and plant seedlings.

The central courtyard itself was a stone floor like the hospital and senior’s wing, and on top of the stone, the workers had constructed big wooden garden beds. One bed would be an herb garden. Two others would be for flowers and the final one for fresh vegetables. In addition to the garden beds, there was a phalanx of huge pots with a tree in each one—pomegranates, oranges, apples, plums, cherries.

Every resident had his or her own room, decorated as the senior wished, with his or her own belongings. And each room had a large window looking out onto the central courtyard. The bathrooms, nurses’ offices, and treatment rooms were on the far side of the hallway from the residents’ rooms, and a sitting room had the only recognizable door, which was made of glass and opened into the courtyard.

Families entered and exited from the hospital via a fake “treatment room,” and that door was mirrored with a yellow lever up high enough to deter children from playing with it.

The exit was misleading to give the residents and their families peace of mind. Many of the seniors were frail, in which case they should not be trying to leave. Others were in the early stages of dementia, in which case they would be misdirected by the mirror, so this system was considered less intrusive than pass codes, swipe cards, or locked entry doors.

Chevaunne sat on a bench with Honored Grandmother and Grandfather Lim. Both had sharp, intelligent minds inside increasingly feeble bodies.

The controlled environment of New Thimphu was wonderful for the elderly, Chevaunne thought. Outside, there would be many days when it would be too hot or too cold or too windy for frail older people to enjoy a garden, but here they would never be sunburned or chilled.

“What is your name, young man?” the old lady asked the worker.

“Songstan, Honored Grandmother. Most people call me Stan.”

“The other man is named Goa, I am told. What are you planting here, Songstan?”

“In the center, tomatoes and corn. On one side, snow peas. Have you a favorite vegetable you would like us to grow?”

“Hmm. Red, yellow, and green. They are good, strong colors, flavorful vegetables. Red, yellow, and green peppers would be appropriate.”

“And chilies. Red, yellow, and green chilies,” added Grandfather Lim.

“Very good. There is one remaining side to this garden. Chevaunne, what would you like?”

“I had been thinking carrots, but that would quite spoil your color scheme. Cabbage, perhaps, or lettuce? Or red onions, although they are more purple in color really.”

Goa came over and joined them, and Chevaunne relaxed and listened while the four had a lively conversation about vegetables before finally deciding to plant radishes and squash on the fourth side of the box.

She was so happy here. The community was so much more loving and caring than the outside world. Everyone knew everyone else, but that was not the reason because in many small towns that would be the case, yet so often they, too, were filled with competitiveness and bitterness.

No, it had to be that these people had chosen to tread a different path. Their lifestyle was different because that was what they wanted. They followed the traditional ways instead of foregoing their traditions. They had adapted modern technology and modern methods of earning a living, yet they used those things within the framework of their traditional sexual practices.

And oh how she enjoyed their sexual practices! Having three men at once was more stimulating than she could ever have imagined it would be. But, more than that, she respected and appreciated them as individuals within the relationship.

She looked up as Shiloah, and her mother Orna came out into the courtyard. Shiloah smiled and walked across to her. “We’re going to plant a small rose garden over here,” she said, waving to one section of the garden. “There’ll be varieties with a very strong scent as many old people find their sense of smells dulls with age, and we want to be sure they can enjoy them.”

“What a good idea. Will you show my brother and me your rose garden, please, Shiloah? We both miss the land very much. Our family has farmed for many generations, but we found we couldn’t like the politics of our homeland anymore, so we came here to where the old ways prevail.”

“Of course, Stan. Mom and I work there for several hours each day, tending the plants, and then we work in our still room making the soaps and ointments and fragrances.”

“It’s a lot of work for two women. Yet you have no fathers or brothers to help you?”

“My husbands were falsely jailed for crimes they didn’t commit because people disapproved of our polyandrous lifestyle. Shiloah was just a baby then. By the time they were released from jail, they were broken men, so we came here. They had been deliberately infected with AIDS in jail by bigoted people. The doctors here cared for them until they rejoined their ancestors, and Shiloah and I began growing roses as a tribute to her fathers. Once we started making fragrances, we discovered we could earn credits doing something we loved.”

The conversation turned back to the choice of plants for the seniors’ garden, and Chevaunne mulled over Orna’s story. So much hatred and bigotry in the outside world. Shiloah’s fathers had harmed no one, yet the way they had been treated by outsiders had effectively been torture which had resulted in them dying in a horrible, painful way. Stan and Goa had come here to escape persecution, too. Yet here all four of them were, working together to make a beautiful garden for the old people to enjoy, offering peace and beauty instead of bitterness and malice.

She loved this place and these people. She never wanted to leave.

* * * *

Chevaunne had banned Sam from the kitchen tonight, wanting to make a favorite recipe of hers for them all. Laughing and protesting, he’d obeyed her, but she’d seen him stick his head around the doorway to watch her from time to time. On each occasion, she’d waved to him and made shooing motions with her hands, and he’d obediently retreated.

The meal was a meat and vegetable lasagna, quite simple to make but time-consuming as all the hard vegetables needed to be grated. It took her an hour to grate carrots, pumpkin, sweet potato, and cheese then chop onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes, to open cans of corn and peas, and to mix them all together with some sauces and spices.

She browned the meat and layered their largest cooking pan with sheets of pasta, meat, vegetables, and cheese, then put the meal in the oven to cook.

Sam appeared behind her, wrapped his hands around her waist, and picked her up, turning them around and sitting her on a chair.

“Let me make you a cup of coffee, and I’ll clean up these food preparation dishes for you.”

“It’s the cook’s job to clean up their mess, though,” she protested.

“It’s the husbands’ duty to care for their wife.”

“Sam, I love the way you all care for me, but I don’t want to be a duty. I’m happy to do my share of the work. You’ll spoil me.”

Sam wiped his hands on a dishcloth and knelt at her feet. “Chevaunne, for most of our lives, we’ve longed to have a wife to cherish. We’re trained from birth to care for and protect our women. For years and years, we doubted we’d ever find the right woman for all of us. When I first saw you in the hospital, I was so excited I could hardly pay attention to Honored Grandmother. All I could think of doing was phoning my brothers to tell them I’d found you at last.”

He took her hands in his and kissed her fingers passionately. “I love you with every cell in my body. We all do. We’d all do anything you want, search and find anything you need to make you happy. You are happy here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. You’re all so very good to me, and I like New Thimphu and its customs and values much more than I liked the outside world. But what will happen to me if one of you grows tired of me or falls in love with another woman?”

“That won’t happen. We looked and looked at all the other women, but none suited us.”

“But say a new family arrives with a daughter you prefer to me.”

“We are married, both in the eyes of our ancestors and by law.”

“So are people outside and half of all marriages end in divorce.”

“Not here. There has never been a divorce. In all the generations here, never has a marriage failed.”

“Surely you have seen marriages where there should have been a divorce, where the people were unhappy.”

Jim’s voice came from the doorway. Chevaunne looked up, surprised as he spoke. She hadn’t heard him come inside.

“I have only heard of that situation once. It was many years ago, where the two brothers could not agree on a wife and married a bride chosen by their fathers. None of them was content, but the whole community supported them, and, in the end, I believe they all found a degree of happiness. Father Yeshe would never let such a thing occur these days. If all the brothers are not agreed, there will be no marriage at all.”

Jim came across the room and knelt at her feet beside Sam. Paul appeared and joined them. “What has caused you to think these thoughts, Chevaunne? Are you unhappy? Are we doing something you dislike? Do you miss your friends?”

“You’re all wonderful to me, so much more loving than I could ever have imagined. And I’ve made friends with Anh, Kiri, Shiloah, and the other young women. It’s just…”

Jim swung her up into his arms, and they carried her to the sofa. There the men sat close together with her bottom on Jim’s lap and her legs over Sam’s and Paul’s.

“Spit it out, Chevaunne. Tell us what’s stressing you,” ordered Jim.

“We don’t use condoms. What happens when I get pregnant? What if I’m sick for months or need to rest in a hospital? What will you think when I’m fat and ugly and waddle breathlessly everywhere? What happens when the baby arrives and I’m up all night feeding it and look pale, and I’m tired all the time?”

“A daughter,” breathed Paul. “When I was a child, I wanted a baby sister, but a daughter would be so much better. You will always be my beautiful lady. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Our sons to inherit the farm. To walk where our ancestors walked,” added Sam.

“Any babe would be most welcome. But, Chevaunne, there’s no need to rush it. If you don’t feel ready, we’ll use condoms. It isn’t usual for our people because little ones are welcome. But it happens when people wish to space their family or already have as many children as they can care for. Have we been inconsiderate in this? I’m so sorry if we’ve been worrying you. But Paul’s right. We love you and our desire is always to help you. If you’re ill, we’ll care for you.”

Jim’s voice was strong, and he held her to him.

“Night feeds are no trouble. Our daughter won’t suffer if you express your breast milk and sleep while we give her a bottle. We’ll help feed her and bathe her, change her diapers,” added Paul.

“Jim’s right. There’s plenty of time. If you want to wait a while, we can do that. We’re all still young enough to wait until you feel ready.”

Chevaunne felt as if a huge burden was lifted from her shoulders. “You truly don’t mind? You’ll wait a little while for me? I love the bareback sex, but I need to really adjust to life here before I take on a baby. Well, three babies, I guess. Sons for Sam and a daughter for Paul.”

“Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just ask us and we’ll do it for you. Now, how about you serve this special meal you made, and then one of us needs to go to the store and buy a box of condoms. A very big box of condoms,” said Sam.

* * * *

Chevaunne felt relaxed and happy surrounded by her men at the kitchen table. The huge pan she’d cooked the lasagna in now held nothing but a few kernels of corn, the occasional pea, a sliver of mushroom, and a miniscule piece of carrot.

All of them had acted true to their personality. Jim had dived in and forked up a huge mouthful, chewed, swallowed, nodded his appreciation, and immediately taken another bite.

Sam had tasted his serving carefully, asking about the ingredients, the spices and sauces she’d used, and oven temperature.

Paul had served everyone coffee, bustled around getting fresh bread and butter, grabbing bites as he bounced around the kitchen, and still managed to eat as much as everyone else.