Colonist's Wife (3 page)

Before her, the doors began to slide shut and she stuck out a hand to halt them. Louise stepped out of the metal cage and into the garden.

* * * * *

The wife was asleep, exactly how he’d planned it. Adam crept in, careful not to disturb her. He sank down onto the end of the bed, so damn tired his bones felt brittle, sapped of energy.

Taka had sat with him for hours, playing endless games of chess and sipping sake long after Rose had gone to bed. And she had gone there with her pretty nose out of joint. The state of his marriage as a topic of discussion had got old fast. Apparently the woman hadn’t met Rose for her tour today despite repeated com requests. As if it was his fault his wife was antisocial. Actually, he could almost appreciate that. Or at least understand it. She might be overwhelmed by all the changes.

But no, he hadn’t wanted to discuss his wife or their supposed marriage. Rose had thrown her hands in the air more than once. Taka had raised a brow but said nothing. He’d continued to say nothing until Adam had stumbled to the door, a bit inebriated. Again.

“Give it a chance,” his friend had said.

But was that what his wife wanted?

Adam set a hand back on the mattress and let his head roll onto his shoulder, let the lethargy take him. So damn tired. The low lighting cast shadows but her face seemed clear and softer in sleep, filled with none of the disappointment or distaste of their meeting yesterday. She slept on her side with a hand tucked beneath her cheek like a child. But her other arm lay on the bed, curled up and around her head as if she were hiding herself or guarding against attack, expecting it.

Curious. Adam shuffled farther onto the bed to get closer.

There was a scent, luring him in, inviting him closer still. The bare curve of her shoulder lay right there, so he leaned over and sniffed. No one would know. Citrusy, lemony—who knew? It was nice. He breathed deeply again and again.

Louise made some small noise and rolled onto her back. The hand guarding her head rose and her palm flattened against his chest. Adam held perfectly still, didn’t even dare to breathe. Her fingers pressed into him, not hard enough to push him away, more as if she were stretching, kneading.

Her eyes opened, big and dark and sleepy. “Adam?”

“Yeah.” He hovered over her, frozen. In truth, he couldn’t have moved to save himself and he couldn’t have said why.

The hand dropped from his long-sleeved T-shirt but her drowsy gaze remained on him. She wasn’t awake. Not really. He shouldn’t have disturbed her. Sniffing her while she slept. What the hell had he been thinking?

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep,” he said.

She said nothing, dark eyes peering back at him.

“You’re safe.”

“Okay.” The eyelids drooped and she turned her head away from the light and him.

Adam crept off the mattress, eyes on her the whole time. The stranger in his bed, for better or for worse. His wife, courtesy of Gideon dying and a contract signed before either of them had ever met. How binding could it be? What did such a joining even mean?

She looked so soft in sleep. He lost track of how long he stood there, staring at his wife.

Chapter Three

Day Three

The marriage coordinator’s office was a bastion of beige. Louise perched on the edge of the well-stuffed sofa with a strained smile, hands in her lap, shoulders back and spine whip-straight. Her neck ached. It felt like posing for a school photo, endlessly, being on her very best behavior.

Unfortunately she had dirt crusted beneath her fingernails. Surreptitiously, she tucked them under the palms of her hands, curled them out of sight.

A line of certificates hung on the wall. After almost half an hour of studying them, she pretty much had their contents memorized. It stopped her from giving in to the temptation to pick out the muck from under her nails and litter the pristine carpet. Because that would be petty and rude.

Christiana, the counselor, delicately cleared her throat and turned to the com unit sitting on the arm of her chair for the hundredth time. The woman had it down to a fine art. First a subtle twist of the head followed by a stroke of the finger to bring the com screen to life. Then her shiny pink lips would open to release a little irritated huff of breath.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Louise said, because after twenty-nine minutes someone needed to state the obvious. “He probably got held up at work or something…”

“Unusual for a first session.” Perfectly arched brows drew tight. “How does that make you feel, Louise?”

“I feel we should try re-scheduling.”

“Not the practicalities, Louise—your emotional response.” Pink lips twisted into a dry smile. “Please.”

“Unsurprised? We’ve been together for less than forty-eight hours—discussing the marriage seems premature,” she said. Christiana’s gaze dropped to Louise’s lap, where her fingers fiddled. “And nervous. I feel nervous.”

“I’m here to help you, not judge you, Louise. You don’t have to feel nervous.”

And yet her shirt clung wetly beneath her arms and her jaw ached. Go figure. “All right.”

“Why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been doing since you got here?” the counselor invited.

“Well, I’ve been volunteering down in the horticultural division. This morning we were transferring seedlings. Mostly leafy greens for consumption.” Because there was more than the one central garden down there, the entire level had been given over to feeding the colony. There were aquaponic set-ups spanning entire rooms. It was the strangest thing, but she loved it. It energized her.

The counselor nodded but her eyes said something was wrong. A test had been failed. “That’s good, but I thought we could talk about your marriage. How are things going with Adam?”

Oh. Him.

Her gaze slid back to the certificates on the wall with their fancy gilt print. Confessing she hadn’t seen her husband since her arrival didn’t seem wise. She’d gone to sleep alone and woken up alone, again. The only evidence of their inhabiting the same space was the indentation left in his pillow. “Slowly but surely. There’s no rush, right?”

“Right. But it’s important to work on establishing a bond that can see you through any early relationship hiccups. Have you been physically intimate yet?” Christiana picked up her com unit and her fingers danced across the screen. “Louise?”

Physically intimate. Nice wording. It might be Christiana’s job, but still. Her prurient interest made Louise’s skin crawl. It was tempting to lie, but this woman could likely pick out a falsehood two planets off. The DA had always said to stick as close to the truth as possible. What little of it she’d been allowed to own.

“No. We haven’t been physically intimate.”

“Unusual.” The counselor’s brow furrowed. “Louise, it’s very important to initiate a physical understanding with your partner as soon as possible. The uniqueness of these relationships means they have their own set of guidelines, established to give your marriage the best chance of success. These kinds of expectations were all made clear to you before you left Earth, weren’t they?”

“Yes.” The DA and judicial police had lectured her for hours unending. Mining company policy regarding contract marriages had been covered in depth. Them and their many, many expectations. If this hadn’t been the one sure method for her to disappear into the ether, she would never have boarded the big ship. But then, Gideon had given her hope. Her heart ached at the thought of him.

“All right, Louise…”

“Who does that report go to?” She tipped her chin at Christiana’s com unit.

The woman gave her a small smile but didn’t answer the question. “We have six weeks until the next passenger ship arrives, Louise. In that time there will be mandatory weekly couple’s counseling sessions. I’ll be sending a communiqué to your husband to alert him to that fact.”

Christiana stood and brushed her hands over her skirt. “There is no reason to believe you’ll be returning on the ship to Earth, Louise. Not if you work with me.”

The counselor might have meant the words to be fortifying but Louise could only hear the underlying threat. A death threat, though Christiana couldn’t know that. Louise’s throat closed and she had to force out the words, “I will”.

* * * * *

Adam stood stiffly in the front line of the assembly with his wife at his side in a staid black dress. It did nothing for her. The heels weren’t bad though. The heels were…something.

This would make the fifth memorial since the accident. Just in case anyone doubted the depth of the company’s grief at the loss of two men. The assembled stood on the observation deck. Apart from some storage outlets, it was the only part of the base constructed aboveground. The glass ceiling gave a spectacular view of the galaxy going about its business overhead. Space made for a fine distraction once gazing at his wife’s sexy shoes got old.

Nathan Hillier, the chief operations officer, read prose sent from Earth to the couple of hundred gathered. With each useless occasion the number dwindled further. One day soon they would cut out this shit entirely and Adam would breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Eventually the chief wound things up and one of the loftier executives on-site stepped up. The suit-and-tie cleared his throat and braced his hands on the podium. His eagle eyes bored down on the crowd.

And then the bastard began recounting the nightmare, no detail missed. Gideon engulfed in flames. Farris trying to get close enough to drop him and roll him in the dirt. Adam running for the Halon aboard the transport. Everything.

Adam blocked it out. Filled his head with song lyrics and chess moves and stories his mother had read to him as a child, back before things had gone to shit. His heart hammered inside his chest. Over the executive’s shoulder, the planet’s edge came into view. The shades of gold and yellow and gray were spectacular. Fucking amazing. And still the asshole’s lips kept moving. Sweat tickled his spine but his throat turned arid and his stomach churned. He couldn’t survive this. Not again. Damn it. He’d lived through worse than the fire during the war but, for some reason, Gideon’s and Farris’ deaths had trumped it all. They had bested each hellish moment of his time spent serving in the special troops.

Everything faded into the background until thunderous applause roused him from his stupor. Someone pounded him on the back and called him a hero. People gathered around. Rose’s eyes shone with tears.

Shit.

He wasn’t a hero. He hadn’t saved anyone. Gideon and Farris were dead. He had nearly become toast himself. Everyone was talking but he couldn’t hear a word over the blood surging through his ears. The voices were a senseless clatter. An endless, meaningless buzzing noise set to drive him insane. Then someone took his hand and cool fingers touched his face. It felt like being jerked awake and slapped hard. He recoiled, his vision hazy, and the grip on his clammy fingers tightened.

“Adam,” she said. His wife’s dark eyes held him, the pad of her thumb rubbing at the back of his hand as if she were removing a stain. She shouldn’t have bothered. The burn marks were there to stay.

“We have to go,” she announced, her voice clear among the chaos. She tugged firmly on his hand and led him away from the crowd of people. He followed her blindly, so gods damn grateful he could have kissed her feet.

Rose stepped forward, her eyes glossy. “Adam…”

“Later,” was all his wife said. Nothing and no one slowed their progress through the crowd.

She led him straight to the bank of lifts. Doors opened and they stepped in, alone. The doors closed and his wife stepped up to the com screen on the wall. Their arms stretched out between them like a life-line, their hands linked. He wasn’t sure who was holding on to whom anymore, but he couldn’t let go. Wouldn’t. Not yet. The connection seemed the only thing holding him together.

Louise pinched her lips with her fingers and stared at the map blinking up onscreen. “I think I know where we are.”

“I, ah…I know.”

“Oh. Good.” She returned to his side and shot their joined hands a startled look.

Fair enough—he understood. He’d done his utmost to avoid her and now he wouldn’t let go. But curiously, she didn’t try to make him.

It felt almost as if those limbs belonged to two different people entirely. The fingers entwined and palms clasped tight. Kind of odd how well her smaller hand fitted inside his, almost as if they’d been doing it forever. He held her hand up to his face. A fine layer of dirt lay beneath a couple of the short, neat nails. Interesting—perhaps the princess might not be so perfect. What had she had been up to?

The elevator doors opened and they walked back to the domicile, hand in hand. It wasn’t far—home, sweet home. When the door slid shut behind them, locking them in, he breathed out an almighty sigh of relief. Just let it all out. It left him on a groan, low and tired and plaintive.

He had survived another memorial.

They stood there in silence.

“Adam?” she asked after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Are you all right?” Louise stepped out of her heels with a hand on the door for balance. She dropped by about three inches, no longer matching his height. Her toes flexed and stretched against the floor and she made a small, happy noise. It was cute. Asking her to put the sexy shoes back on was probably out of the question, no matter how hard his day had been.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” His eyes drifted back to their joined hands. Specifically, to her nails. “Come over here.”

“Hmm?”

Adam led her to the two-seater table where he had left his pocketknife.

“Keep still.” He flicked out the two-inch blade and felt her flinch. She tugged on her hand but he didn’t let go. “You’ve got dirt beneath your nails.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I was going to get it out.”

Even in the low lighting he could see her color and a reluctant smile spread across her face. “Thank you.”

Her hand relaxed in his and he bent over it and got to work, carefully digging out the deposits beneath her short nails. Going slowly because he didn’t want to slip up and hurt her and, besides, he’d gotten used to holding her hand by now. He wasn’t in any rush not to. It felt nice—odd but nice.