Building Harlequin’s Moon (11 page)

As it grew later, the drums kept beating, people taking turns so the rhythm changed every once in a while. Rachel watched and listened, wishing she could stay out, and also glad she couldn’t. Single adults started to clump into groups, watching a covered table that Rachel knew held the wine bulbs Council only dispensed this one night of the year. Many of the adults seemed to think of it the way Rachel thought of chocolate, even though her father had told her it was no good.

Ursula’s oldest brother, Brian, would stay for the first time tonight. She’d ask him tomorrow.

Eric, one year older than Ursula, said, “I want to stay. Just to watch.”

Brian shook his head. “Go home with the girls, make sure they get back, and that they stay in one place.”

Rachel glared at him. “We can get back ourselves.”

Brian sighed exaggeratedly and looked directly at Ursula. “I promised Dad you’d be safely tucked into one tent or the other. Eric can watch you.”

Rachel grinned. “Ursula can stay with me. My dad always comes home early, anyway.”

Brian sighed again. “Then
you
can watch
Eric
.”

“Eric
can watch
Paulie
,” Ursula asserted. “We want this to be a girls’ night.”

“Whatever.” Brian sighed. “Just don’t be here, and don’t make me watch you.”

Drumbeats started. A sign for the youngest children to head home. They watched as couples took their babes in arms and faded back into the tents, heading home, until the Commons was full of older children, and adults with no babies. Only a few hundred people now, even including the Earth Born. The sound of the drums quickened, and Rachel and Ursula stood and left Eric and Brian arguing softly. “Brian will win,” Ursula said.

“Only because Council would catch Eric if he stayed.”

Ursula shrugged.

Rachel led them by the chocolate plates once more, and they giggled as they each palmed an extra piece. “We don’t want to stay anyway,” Ursula whispered. “The men kiss the women, and Mom said the wine tastes terrible. She didn’t even want to go this year, but Dad said she had to.”

Rachel thought about Harry, about kissing him, and she smiled. They’d kissed again just this morning, meeting and turning off the path, standing under the First Trees. He’d tasted like salt and tomatoes from his breakfast. But Ursula didn’t want to know that, so Rachel just said, “Dad won’t go. He hasn’t gone since Mom left.”

As the girls started threading through tents toward Rachel’s, Harry popped up in front of them. “And happy Mid-Winter to you too.”

Rachel blushed. Ursula groaned out load.

Harry held out a hand in front of him, palm up. Two chocolate stars sat in his hand.

“No, thanks,” Ursula said. “We got our own.”

Rachel held her hand out and Harry dropped the treats from his palm to hers. He smiled. “Go on, you won’t see any more until next year.”

Rachel held one out to Ursula, who grimaced and closed her palm.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at her friend, then said, “Well, Dad will want one.” She looked around to thank Harry, but he had already melted into the shadows between the tents.

Ursula tugged at Rachel’s arm. “Come on, let’s see if your dad’s home yet. I saw him eating, but that was a while ago.”

And sure enough, he was waiting for them.

A W
EEK LATER
, Gabriel posted the list of who would go out to plant for the next season. Ursula would stay behind, tending the student plots, and Gregory and Gloria would join Harry, Rachel, Alexandra, and Nick, doubling the number of Moon Born on planting crews.

The night before they left, Ursula and Rachel watched Harlequin’s swirling patterns from just outside Aldrin, sitting close together on packed regolith. The hard ground dug into Rachel’s backside.

“I don’t want to be left behind,” Ursula said.

“They never ask, do they?” Rachel swallowed. “It’ll be okay. It’s an honor to watch the grove. Someone has to be here who cares.”

Ursula’s face was turned up into Harlequin’s soft light, and her eyes were wet. Rachel pulled her friend into her arms, and held Ursula while she cried. She stroked Ursula’s soft hair. “I’ll call. We won’t lose touch.”

R
ACHEL AND
H
ARRY
led teams separated along gender lines. Ali oversaw Rachel and her team, Gabriel the boys. The two Council members pushed them hard.

Ursula called every morning. She asked for advice about the grove, and Rachel struggled to help her. She told Ursula
about the teams, the hard work, and how fast Gloria was learning. Ever since the rescue, Gloria dogged after Rachel like a small bright shadow.

Rachel and Harry spent early evenings far from the group. They walked for hours, holding hands, talking about terraforming and about plants. They wondered about Council, and about
John Glenn
. Sometimes they kissed, and licking heat ran down Rachel’s spine and settled between her thighs. They touched as often as they could, but they didn’t undress. The landscape was almost flat, yet Harry often found little hollows where they could feel alone. They talked about a future together. By some unspoken pact, Rachel and Harry stayed separate during the days.

They all went back to Aldrin to pick up supplies and visit families. Rachel spent two days with Ursula. The girls didn’t leave each other’s sides except to sleep. Rachel listened endlessly to Ursula’s troubles working with the students left behind in her care. Once Ursula said that maybe Rachel had it harder, being out there with the boys. Rachel just smiled and said it wasn’t so bad.

The secret of her growing relationship with Harry was a weight pulling Rachel from Ursula, and she woke up each night worrying about how to tell her. She had never kept secrets from Ursula.

The third day Rachel and Harry met outside Aldrin, up at the grove. They clasped hands as soon as they reached the privacy of the First Trees. Rachel leaned into Harry, breathing in his soapy clean smell and feeling his chin against the top of her head, his arms around her waist. They lay down and she snuggled into his arms, watching the dim summer stars through the lacework of young lianas threading through the spreading canopy.

Harry leaned over and whispered, “I missed you.”

Rachel brought her fingers up to his cheekbones and ran the back of her hand over the contours of his face. A soft stubble of beard made his chin tickle her fingers. He held
completely still, one hand cupping her shoulder, and closed his eyes. They kissed, and then she felt his free hand on her belly, rubbing it in small concentric circles. She arched her back, drew in a fearful excited breath, and took his hand and placed it on her breast. He squeezed it gently, exploring, finding the nipple and then pulling up her shirt and taking it in his mouth. She breathed faster and moved closer, matching him skin to skin in as many places as she could. Her hand ran up his spine. She trembled.

Hands and fingers and tongues made tentative explorations. Rachel was unsure about the next step, not pushing, not resisting. The sounds of leaves against branches and the dusky shadows of night were all crystal clear, and she felt a little as if she—no,
they
—floated above themselves in some place of desire and pleasure she had never known before. She dropped her hand along his inner thigh, and ran it up the curve of his hips.

A dry branch snapped close to them, and she heard a sharp intake of breath and a small cry.

Ursula.

Rachel stiffened and called out. “Ursula?”

The only reply was the sound of footsteps running away.

Rachel pushed herself up on her elbows. “I’m sure it was Ursula. She’ll be angry. I have to go find her.”

“Stay,” he whispered, and Rachel sank back, her mind visualizing Ursula’s face, the expression of disgust that she heard but didn’t see.

“I . . . I never told her about us. She won’t understand. I didn’t know how to tell her. She . . . she . . .”

“. . . doesn’t like me.” He finished her sentence. “I know. I don’t mean . . . I guess I like her okay, but she needs so much help. Not like you—it’s all easy for you. You and me, we love the work. We care about Selene. I think Ursula cares about what you think more than about anything else.” His hand covered her navel, moving softly against her stomach.

“She’s . . . just less secure.” Rachel tried to breathe back into being with him. “You don’t understand her.”

“She slows you down.”

“But she’s my friend. I . . . I have to go to her. I’ll meet you again tomorrow.”

He looked startled, then sad. “Don’t go,” he said. When she didn’t answer, he said, “I understand. Tomorrow, right”

She reached up and kissed him, taking a few moments, touching tongues. “I have to go.” She pushed away and stood up, walking unsteadily, the softness of a few moments before turned to confusion.

She flew back alone, the cool night air chilling her. Ursula refused Rachel’s calls that night, and Rachel wanted Harry’s touch, but couldn’t bring herself to go find him after leaving so abruptly.

Rachel woke the next morning to Ursula sitting cross-legged outside her window. She slipped outside into the cool air, careful not to make any noise that would wake her father, and started toward the edge of town. Ursula followed silently, looking angry and exhausted. Rachel wondered if she had slept.

Rachel walked as long as she could stand the silence, until they stood at the edge of the tent city next to a row of palms. What was she supposed to say? “Ursula. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“How did
that
happen? He’s a geek. He’s just like Andrew.”

“He’s not like Andrew. Not anymore. I don’t think he ever was.”

“And why not tell me? How could you hide—”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel stopped and looked Ursula in the eyes. She would not mumble a false apology, like Andrew. “I was wrong.”

“So you won’t see him anymore? You’ll stop this?”

“I was wrong not to tell you.”

“Are you going to stop?”

“I care about him.”

“But—”

“I know he hangs out with Andrew. But he’s not
like
him. There’s a lot we talk about—he sees things like I do.”

“And I don’t?” Ursula’s voice was still tight, protesting.

Rachel sat down and put her hands over her face. “Ursula, it’s different with Harry. My belly goes soft when I’m with him.”

“Yuck.” Ursula stood above Rachel, looking down at her.

“I mean . . . I mean . . .”

“You kept a secret. From me. And all the while I’m stuck here, miles away from you, and you’re playing . . . with him . . . and not calling me, and I—”

“I said I’m sorry.” It was hard to be patient. “I knew you wouldn’t like it. How could I explain?”

“You’ve been here for three days.”

“I know. But you wanted to talk about other things.”

“I’ve just . . . Rachel, I’ve been so lonely here.”

“Ursula, you’re my best friend. I didn’t set out to hurt your feelings. But I like it . . . I like him. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I mean, who’d I spend two days with nonstop when I got here? Look, don’t argue. Let’s go work in the grove and have a good day together.”

“I don’t . . . no . . .” Ursula turned her back, but Rachel could still hear her. “I—give me a day.”

“We’re supposed to leave tomorrow night.”

“So we’ll meet for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly, walking away, upset enough that it felt better to hike to the grove instead of flying. She carried her wings, working up a light sheen of sweat. It didn’t help her feel better.

Rachel went to the field by the First Trees and sat cross-legged behind the dais that Gabriel and Ali sometimes taught from, looking toward the trees. What had she done?

Grass poked at her calves. This field was the only place Council encouraged grass to grow. There were butterflies and bees here, genetically regulated to control reproduction. Other strains would replace these as Council introduced a balance of predators, primarily birds and insects. Rachel tried to picture the world fuller, with more variety, more balance, like the balance that supported the water systems. It was hard to imagine so much chaos. A bright blue butterfly with yellow eyes on its wings landed in front of her, stayed for two heartbeats, and flew up and over the dais, away.

Rachel stood to watch it go, and noticed Gabriel standing silently in the middle of the field behind her. He wore loose blue pants tied at the ankles and no shirt. His arms were raised above his head, hands clasped high, palms close in together. His eyes were closed. He swayed, first to the right, then the left, each time reaching far out with his arms, stretching his sides so that he bent almost into a sideways “U” on each side. The tip of his long braid dragged on the grass. Then he stood tall again, reaching almost for the sky, and she could see his ribs pull up and his hips thrust forward before he dropped his head and bent back so his arms pointed behind him and he could look at the ground.

Gabriel opened his eyes. Rachel was sure that he saw her, but he chose to ignore her as he bent forward, pulling his head into his knees. His movements were slow and controlled. He stayed that way for six long breaths, and then came up, hands reaching for the sky again before he dropped them to his sides. He walked over silently, and climbed up onto the dais, sitting close to her.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Half Moon Pose.”

“Huh?”

“It stretches your spine,” he said.

“I bet it does. Can I try it someday?”

“Someday.” He laughed. “You may
need
to know it by the time you’re running planting teams. Being the boss gets crazy. Yoga helps some. When I concentrate completely on my body, my problems seem further away. There are days I need yoga just to stay down here, away from the ship, to stay focused. Besides, going back and forth between here and the ship is hard on the body—and yoga is the best way we’ve found to balance gravitational shifts, to keep strength up.”

It was curious to hear Gabriel talk about himself so personally. “Is it that hard to be around us?”