Jamb: (8 page)

Sean gapes.

“No,” he says,  “enough is enough.  This isn’t happening.  Iris is not going to be a target.”

“
Absolutely not,” Addo agrees.  “She would just help transport the Cornerstone, if necessary.”

Before Sean can object again, Garrett says,  “I don’t l
ove the idea either, but I think it’s the safest bet we’ve got.  If everyone gets used to seeing Iris with the bear now, no one will think twice about her walking out of here with it.  Besides, if she’s holding the Cornerstone, it guarantees that she’ll have extra protection too.”

“
It’s no good.  It’s the most obvious place.  Valuables are
always
hidden in teddy bears.”  Sean says.

“
Says who?”

“Says every movie ever made
with a smuggling scene in it.  Listen, we’re not taking a chance with anyone else in our family, Garrett.”

“Don’t take this wrong,” Garrett says, “but as an Addo, don’t you have t
o get over the fear and stop all the what if-ing?”

Oh boy. 
Sean’s jaw clenches.  He’s totally taking it wrong.

“Use somebody e
lse’s bear to move stuff around,” he says.

Watching the two of them, near perfect reflections
growling at each other, makes me uncomfortable.  I’ve never even seen the two of them unhappy with each other, let alone so tense.  All the points they’ve made are right on, but when it comes down to it, it’s always good to have back-up plans.  The Cornerstone needs to be kept safe, but no one better lay a hand on Iris.  She would have more protection if she was carrying the Cornerstone, but she might be more of a target too.  It all makes sense, in horribly perfect ways that could end up being the right or wrong way of going.  We just won’t know until it all happens.

Garrett shrugs.

“Alright, we won’t use her,” he says, but the way he lets it go so easily, I know nothing’s changed.  Garrett’s trying to calm his brother, but I know that the Cornerstone is going to be crammed in that bear as early as tonight.

“Now that that’s out of
the way,” Addo says, changing the subject,  “let’s talk about your new daddy-hood, Sean.”

Sean
’s jaw unclenches.  It even opens and closes, but no sound comes out.

“Yes, that,” Addo says with a smile, taking a seat on his couch.  He finds a crumb on his sweatshirt, dabs it up with a fingertip
, and puts it in his mouth.  “You said that the baby is definitely yours?”

“Uh,” Sean pulls it together
with a nervous little swallow.  “Yes, sir.  Yes, I did.”

“
And why is that?”

“Because she has our birthmark.  Everyone in our family has had the same
one, a light red mark right between our eyebrows.  It looks like lip marks.  They’ve all gone away by the time we were a year old.  Our grandmother called them angel kisses.”

“What if it’s just a
massive coincidence?”  Garrett says.  Sean frowns, blushes.

“Then it would
also be a coincidence that I was Teagan’s first and that we were, uh,
together
, around Thanksgiving of last year.  You remember when she came to visit.  She came to town in October and she stayed until New Years.”

“Oh yeah, the New Year’s break-up.  That was weirdest break-up in the history of break-ups.”

Sean shrugs.  “We just both realized we didn’t have as much in common as we thought.  We left as friends.”

“
But maybe it was because she had another boyfriend?”  I offer lightly.

“
I guess she could have, but then the time table wouldn’t be right.  She was with me October through New Year’s and she didn’t have time to be with anyone else during that period.”

I almost want to laugh at how ironic ‘during that period’ sounds to me, but I don’t.  I just think it.

“But if there
was
someone else,” Garrett says.  Sean just shakes his head.

“
Okay, even if we completely ignore the time frame, then how do we explain the Reese family birthmark?”  Sean puts his head in his hands.  “I just don’t know why she didn’t tell me.”

“Ok then,” Addo sighs, but his brow is knit, puzzled.
  “Just for gigglesies, let’s say this baby is yours.  I’m not familiar with Teagan. Is she Contego or Alo?”

“Neither,” Sean says.  “She’s Simple.  But her father is the Procella of the second Cura.  Dai.”

Sean is still three shades lighter than his usual color.

“
She’s Lorie’s daughter, Addo,” he adds, as if that clarifies everything.  And from the way Addo lifts his brow, maybe it does.  Sean gulps. “Teagan’s always been wild and she’s always been Simple.  We kind of bonded over that.”

I remember how Garrett told me that Sean went through a rough time, being that he is the only one in his family that isn’t Contego, besides, maybe, Iris.
Time can tell any time with her from now until she’s eighteen.  But it’s bizarre for me to think of Sean as ever being anything like a black sheep and even weirder trying to imagine him as a wild child, instead of the way I know him: as Garrett’s brainy brother that gets hard-core geeked about Ianua history.  And Teagan, such a little girl in her swing shirt, looked anything but wild to me.  Sean runs a shaky hand through his hair. 

“I don’t kno
w why Dai hasn’t killed me yet,” he says.

“
Oh, I’m sure he’d like to get around to that,” Addo says with a grin.  “But he’s been busy like the rest of us, with this Cusp foolishness and all.  However, whatever Dai’s plans may be, I happen to need you not dead, so that you can continue to train to be an Addo.  So, we are going to do what we need to do, in order to make things right by your daughter and also keep you alive, savvy?”

“What do I need to do?”  Sean asks
.

“Looks like we’re havi
ng ourselves a binding ceremony.  It will have to be lickety-split too, since you’re still training.” Addo slaps Sean on the back.  “Congratulations!  You’re a father
and
a husband now!”

***

When we return to the courtyard, it’s not like order is restored at all.  Mrs. Reese sends us out to secure the courtyard before the Addo returns.

Teagan is patting the baby and rocking back and forth with a dazed
expression as her father stands next to her, sniping at her under his breath. His mouth works so fiercely that it looks like he’s beating her with his sentences.  His eyes dart around the courtyard until Sean emerges from behind Garrett and I.  Then, Dai’s burning glare is steady, locked on Sean.

As I watch the Procella stare at Garrett’s brother, a burn builds inside me too
.  I am not just protective of Sean, I think of him as mine—
my
boyfriend’s brother,
my
friend,
my
Cura’s Mox.  He belongs to me and I’m so annoyed about Dai glaring at him that I can’t help but fix my own glare on the Procella.  When Dai catches me watching, he clamps his lips shut and walks away from his daughter.  Her shoulders sag and I decide I don’t like Dai for doing that to Sean’s new wife, either.

Freddie walks
into the courtyard and claps his hands as he shouts, “The Addo has something to say! Can we have your attention please?”

All eyes flip to Freddie, but then, from the bench beneath the trees, Addo says,
“Thank you, Freddie, I’ll take it from here.”

Sean
stands between Garrett and I again, although he keeps shifting around, trying desperately to catch Teagan’s eye.  She keeps her head down, shamed I think, patting the baby as the Cura members in the balconies shout down all their opinions.  The good and bad opinions tangle together until I want to hold my head and scream.  Sean steps forward and my feet follow him automatically, along with Garrett, until we’re standing there, in a huddle around Teagan.

Sean leans in, close to her ear, and I wonder if he’s going to
blast her with why she didn’t tell him about the baby nine months ago, or if he’s going to tell her that now he has to marry her, or if he’s going to say that she should’ve done this some other way.  But, while I’m scanning for trouble and eavesdropping at the same time, Sean Reese does something that absolutely melts my heart and makes me proud to know him.

He leans in and whispers to Teagan, “I’m so sorry.  You don’t deserve any of this.”

She looks up at Sean with teary eyes.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

And then Addo wrecks the
ir moment by booming for everyone to shut up.  It’s got to be the acoustics of where he’s sitting that makes his voice carry like he’s on a loud speaker.  The courtyard quiets.

“Teagan and Sean are both Simple,” he begins
, and when a rumbling objection comes from the fifth balcony, Addo just lifts a hand to let them know they need to put a cork in it.  “I know this is all unheard of, but the current state of our community is pretty much unheard of too.  Sean has requested that he and Teagan be bound, and I agreed.  So, I am setting the date.  Binding will occur immediately and in one week from this day we will celebrate the marriage of this new couple.”

“One week?
  That is not long enough!”  Dai gapes.

“That is not
even a proper binding, Addo!”  Ms. Fisk, the librarian, at least, she was before the library was burned down, pokes her head from one of the suite doors in the courtyard.  Her blunt bangs sway once over her forehead, even after she’s comes to a halt.  “I understand the need for more Addos, sir, but I do not understand the logic of bringing in one of the Simple, when the Simple absolutely
cannot perform the necessary tasks required of an Addo.  That’s what makes them Simple, after all.  They are not one of us.

“
But now, to make a further concession, that a Mox, who has conceived a child
out of wedlock,
is also offered an
immediate
binding?  Even in our most desperate times, I cannot bring myself to agree with this. And what difference does the ceremony make when it doesn’t have the same ramifications to the Simple anyway?  They can divorce.  They can throw aside their oath to one another like it is nothing.  You are asking us to accept the
Simple
as equivalent to those chosen for the Ianua, and with all due respect to those who are not given a sign, they simply cannot be considered equivalent.  We have abilities and gifts that they can never possess!  Our Addos must be…”

“Perfect,” Addo inserts with a grimace.  “
Yes, I know, Charlotte.  But we don’t have room right now for a perfect situation and honestly, it is that level of expectation that has always created problems for all of us.  I’m here to tell you, it can’t continue.

“While
Addos usually have some extra gifts that suit us to this particular position of leadership, there’s never been an Addo who could fly or jump over buildings or who even owns a cape.  I understand that everybody wants to follow a leader who will always know better than they do and who will never make a mistake with everyone’s future.  Sheez, I want to follow that guy too!  But the trouble is, kids, just as it has always been, your Addos have been, and will always be, grievously human. 

“
Expecting perfection only creates a lot of back-door wheeling-and-dealing among Addos, in order to hide their flubs and shortcomings.  Do you know how tight Addo Gita wore her girdle just so that none of you would consider her fat?  Or that Addo Ferdinand had a photographic memory, but couldn’t read beyond a second grade level?  Or that Addo Mutegi’s elaborate ceremonies were actually a cover for his OCD?  Oh yes.  Do you know how many Addos have gone crackers because they had to be perfect and couldn’t just be who they are?

“
I assumed, that once I came clean to you all about how the Addos had used the Indiciums as drunken pool parties, that you’d gain some understanding for
why
we Addos could let that happen
. 
We’re in a pressure cooker!  We’ve got to manage our Curas, keeping everyone safe and happy, while never letting any of you see the weak moments where we’re scared out of our heads.  Those do happen, you know.  We Addos have to stay on top of our fears and insecurities, just as much as the rest of you yahoos.  But, the community has come to insist that the Addos present themselves as figureheads of strength, style, and wisdom…”

Someone from the balconies shouts down, “And you went with sweat suits and sandals for that?”

Addo chuckles.  “I have never been the popular example.  But what I’m trying to get at, kids, is that you are not led by robot.  There is definitely room for a Simple Addo, if only you would accept him.

“Somebody call the waaaaaahhhhmbulence for the poor
old Addo!”  Someone shouts, and when I incline my head, I can see that there are now two, full-cheeked posteriors hanging over the ninth floor railing.  Ms. Fisk’s lips release from their pucker.

“It’s one thing to be human,”
she says,  “but it is another to continue to make mistakes that are obviously mistakes.  I suppose I could accept a Simple Addo, if you say that he has the abilities necessary to lead a Cura, but I cannot accept bending every rule thereafter to make him fit.  Binding is an ancient practice, put in place to minimize poor matches, assure familial support, and to encourage continuance of the Ianua community.  But to treat it so lightly, to cheapen the exercise to a token ritual, encourages our youth to make rash decisions when choosing a life partner.  I’ve never seen a binding that was less than six months in duration and it seems especially important to remain traditional under these circumstances.”