Jenna Starborn (55 page)

“Not exactly. Upon my very first day there, I was introduced to people who had need of my technical skills, so I found a home right away among people who valued me. And then, the most astonishing thing! We soon discovered that we were cousins—of a sort.”

“This does not surprise me at all,” he assured me. “You are constantly producing relatives that you had never mentioned before.”

“One time only,” I corrected him. “My aunt Rentley. And these people were not related to me by birth, but by conception.”

“I don't understand, Jenna.”

“They too were created in the gen tanks on Baldus, though they were raised on Newyer, and they had an upbringing not unlike mine. We were so amazed at the connection that we called ourselves cousins thereafter, and felt as close as I believe true kin could ever feel.”

He was frowning now, remembering something. He had a very quick mind, so I was sure he would soon put the pieces together. “Wait a minute, I remember a news story from—oh, four or five months ago. Before the accident here. The founder of some clinic on Baldus was looking for his harvested offspring, wanting to leave a fortune to one of them—”

“Yes, sir,” I said simply. “That was me.”

“Why, Jenna!” he exclaimed. “Then you are a wealthy woman! Congratulations ! For his estate was considerable.”

“Well, I split it among my cousins and myself, but still I am left with a handsome sum,” I said. “And that money enabled me to hurry to your side as soon as I heard of the events that had transpired here.”

He seemed to speak with some difficulty. “Did you know then—before you set out on that long journey—what had happened—and who had died—”

“No, sir,” I said quietly. “I came not knowing if your wife still lived.”

“But then—as I asked before—why come at all? Why not find out by other sources how I fared and how matters stood?”

For a moment I did not answer. Sinclair Rainey had asked me the same thing, more than once, in the day I had spent packing for my trip. I had had no ready answer for him either. “Because, like you, I had to see and touch for myself,” I said at last, squeezing his bent fingers with a gentle pressure. “I could trust only the evidence of my own eyes and senses to know that you were alive and well. No other report would do.”

He had another question prepared to ask, I could see by the expression on his face, but just then a knock sounded on the door and a hesitant voice spoke. “Mr. Ravenbeck, I am sorry for interrupting,” said Mr. Soshone. “But there's been a small problem—”

“Can it wait?” Everett snapped, but I had already come to my feet and picked up the food tray.

“You confer with Mr. Soshone. I know he would not seek you out for some trivial reason,” I said. “Now that I have assuaged my hunger, I am so exhausted I do not think I can see straight! I will beg Mrs. Soshone for a room, and I will meet with you again at dinner.”

And I escaped through the door while Everett rather testily argued behind me. Mr. Soshone mouthed an apology at me, but I smiled it away. I really thought this was the better plan, to allow Everett time to get used to my existence before we delved into the fresh issue confronting us: Now that his wife was dead, now that I was returned and he was free, could we reconstruct the future that had once seemed so bright before us? I did not want to take him by storm and surprise a declaration from him. My own heart was unchanged, as faithful as ever, but time and tragedy might have twisted his to the point where love was no longer possible. I hoped not; I believed otherwise; but I thought a few hours of separation and cogitation might help both of us understand more fully what we truly wished.

Accordingly, I did not see him alone again until the following morning. In the interim, Mrs. Soshone showed me to a small but charming room on the first floor, and I immediately fell into the soft bed and slept for several hours. I woke in time for the dinner meal, which was pleasant, though slightly strained, as Everett spent nearly the entire hour addressing random comments to me merely to force me to verify my continued existence. After the meal, I hurriedly retired to my chamber again, though I heard the others move around the house for another few hours before they all finally sought their beds.

In the morning, I did not emerge till I smelled breakfast cooking down the hall, and then I came out fully dressed and braced for whatever joy or disappointment the day might have to offer. Like dinner the night before, breakfast was made both uncomfortable and amusing as Everett focused all his attention on me. The Soshones exchanged frequent glances of hope and hilarity, and I could see that they, like I, thought one specific outcome would be most guaranteed to bring everyone happiness.

“Miss Starborn, why don't you and Mr. Ravenbeck take a nice long walk?” Mrs. Soshone suggested as her husband left for his day in the mines and I offered her help cleaning up the kitchen. “I'm so used to working in the house by myself that it will be easier on me if you two take yourselves off somewhere for a few hours. Mr. Ravenbeck does quite well walking as long as someone's there to guide him.”

“Do you like to walk?” I asked him.

“On my less belligerent days,” he replied. I smothered a laugh, though Mrs. Soshone looked quite surprised at his humor. I realized he had probably not indulged in it much during the past eighteen months, and I rejoiced that he was able to show that side of his personality to me.

“Then let us go for a stroll. You can set the pace, but I know the course to follow.”

“And what is that, Jenna?” he asked me. “It is not like there are a variety of nature walks here in the park confines.”

“No, but there is a monument I would like to see. I know the oxenheart tree was felled more than a year ago, and I am sure it is nothing but a rotting stump by now, but I would like to visit it again. It was an important place to me in the past—I cannot, because it suffered misfortune, consider it inconsequential now.”

“Let me pack a light luncheon for you,” Mrs. Soshone suggested. “That way, you can stay out as long as you like.”

Soon enough, we were on our way. I had, as a matter of courtesy to the blind man, taken Everett's arm so I could lead him across the lawn. That he clutched my hand with a rather extreme pressure I took for no more than the agitation of a man who could not see the path and feared he might fall. As for myself, the first few minutes of our stroll were occupied with remembering: the stale, still quality of the enclosed air; the filtered sunlight, which seemed so insufficient and artificial; the coarse grass that sprung up so instantly once my foot was lifted that I could not help thinking it resented my very presence on its planet. After Appalachia's fresh air and soft breezes, this environment seemed stilted and strange—and yet, for how many months had I longed to be back on this very world, in these few connected acres!

“Did you sleep well, Jenna?” Everett asked. “Your voice sounded so tired yesterday. Are you more rested?”

“Quite rested, thank you. And you?”

“I don't believe I slept at all, but I feel both rested and bursting with energy today. Usually it does not matter to me if it is noon or midnight, but I could not wait for dawn to come this morning.”

“Yes, I was looking forward to the day as well.”

Neither of us said why, and we spoke little more until we arrived at our destination. The oxenheart tree, which had been shattered by a mystical fireball the night Everett had declared his love, I had now expected to find a grayed, rotting hulk stretched full-length on the grass. But, “Look at that!” I cried as we approached, and Everett glanced at me with a smile.

“I cannot see it,” he said. “Describe it to me.”

“It has not been destroyed, as I thought. The bolt cleft it in two, but only partway down its trunk—it still stands, as firmly rooted and fiercely stubborn as it ever was. Some of its higher limbs are leafless and dying, but its lower branches appear stronger and fuller than ever. In fact, the whole trunk seems even more massive than I remember, as if it has bulked itself up after this latest assault and is determined to dig itself in place even more incontrovertibly.”

“And this pleases you?”

“Oh, yes! I am happy any time any creature is able to defy the fates—can face them down and say, ‘You cannot destroy or even harm me. You cannot bend me or uproot me or make me cease to flower. Come storm, come disaster, I am who I am, and I will never change.' ”

Everett reached out a hand to give the rough bark of the trunk a friendly pat. “Very well put, Tree,” he addressed it. “I might almost think your philosophy is the same as my friend Jenna's. You two must have a great deal in common.”

I laughed. “And, look! This is new. Someone has placed a bench under the branches in just such a place to receive sunlight in the chilly morning and shade in the warm afternoon.”

“I wonder who could have thought of such a thing?” he asked in such a tone that I was convinced the idea had been his. “Let us sit there, shall we? I'll wager it is a comfortable spot.”

And so we settled on the rustic bench, and twined our fingers together, and talked quietly for a good hour. This time, step by slow step, Everett led me through the weeks and months of my recent adventures, learning names and relationships and events so well that I was sure he could recite them back to me if I asked.

Naturally, Sinclair Rainey's name came up a number of times during this recitation, and when I had finally finished with my story, Everett immediately returned the conversation to my cousin.

“This Sinclair Rainey. You lived in the same household with him for three months?”

“With him and his sisters, yes.”

“Ate dinners with him, passed him in the hall on your way to bed, that sort of thing?”

“Attended church with him, met his friends, knew his fondest dreams and wishes, yes.”

“I can't recall if you described him, other than to say he did not much resemble his sisters. He was not as attractive as they were?”

“On the contrary, he is quite a handsome man. Tall, slimly built, and yet fairly muscular, with strong cheekbones and pretty hair. Yet his eyes are his best feature, I would say, for they are so blue they are sometimes hard to look at, and they always send me groping for poetic comparisons.”

“Ah. And yet—what—there was something about him you did not like? Perhaps his standards of intelligence were not particularly high or his public manner was embarrassing?”

“No, Sinclair is quite a well-read, well-spoken man who handles himself extremely well in social settings. Indeed, the few times he spoke at our worship services, his voice nearly electrified the audience—we all went home feeling as if we had been visited by the Goddess herself.”

“But he was a busy man, you said. Ran the office, solicited donations from outside sources—you probably did not spend much time with him because he was always away at some function, is that right?”

“At first I saw very little of him, that is true. But once he discovered my technical skills, he became extremely interested in spending time with me. He wished to learn those skills, you see, and so he asked me to tutor him in the evenings.”

“You taught Rainey nuclear physics?”

“Yes.”

“Did you also teach his sisters?”

“Oh, no. They had often gone to bed in the evenings before our studies began.”

“Did you offer to teach him?”

“No.”

“He requested that you become his instructor?”

“Yes.”

“What was his motive for learning?”

“He wanted a skill that would benefit him if he decided to emigrate to an even less settled planet than Appalachia.”

“Did he learn his lessons well enough to apply them in such a situation?”

“When I left, he was, theoretically at least, nearly as proficient as I am.”

“Did he, in fact, decide to take his newfound knowledge to some environment where it would be of use?”

“Yes, he has already emigrated to Cozakee, though his sisters were not happy at his decision.”

“He went to Cozakee without them? Alone?”

“He wanted me to accompany him.”

“To Cozakee? In what capacity? Nuclear advisor?”

“He wanted me to go as his wife.”

“As his wife!” Everett exclaimed. “This is the first time you have mentioned that particular request!”

“It was not germane to the story. I turned down his offer.”

“And why? For this well-read, well-spoken, quick-learning, electrifying, and handsome man seems like the answer to any woman's prayers. And he had, by your own account, recently inherited a sizable fortune, so he was a good catch in the monetary sense as well.”

I could not help smiling at the ill-tempered jealousy that Everett made no attempt to disguise. “I had no interest in emigrating to Cozakee,” I said. “And besides, Sinclair did not love me. I found the idea of being tied for life to a man who did not love me to be unappealing in the extreme.”

“Are you sure about the state of his heart? For you are easy to love, after all, though you give yourself little enough credit on that count.”

“I know whom he loved, and it was not me. A pretty, sweet, materialistic girl named Rianna, who was not at all the sort of woman you would take to rough, unsettled country. She fascinated him—whenever she was in the room, he could not take his eyes off her—but she was not strong enough to take into the wild. And so he asked me instead, for he thought I could work hard and bear children and keep my complaints to a minimum.”

Everett digested this comment in silence for a moment. “Well! If that is the way he phrased his proposal, I am not surprised you turned him down. Were your feelings hurt, Jenna? I would not for the world have you wounded.”