Lieutenant Jon Offra flipped up the collar of his jacket to make sure no one could recognize him. It’d been nearly a year since he was transferred out of Edge, and while many faces in the army had changed, he couldn’t take any chances. Even though the sun had yet to rise, someone might recognize his stature and wonder why he was here instead of at the fort at Midplain.
He still wondered that as well. He told his commandant he’d be spending his three weeks of leave visiting a great aunt who no longer remembered him, but instead he was sneaking back to his old fort.
It was only because Lemuel had been writing him. First came the brief, almost indiscernible message addressed to the “Lieutenant over waste and refuse” and, by default, it had landed on Jon’s desk, because his lackluster reputation as an officer had preceded him.
He puzzled over the words which discussed not throwing away worthy items, frowned at the terrible handwriting, and wondered who “a concerned officer” could be. But, knowing it was from Edge, he stared at it for a long time before realizing a couple of letters looked familiar, as if someone who used to write with his right hand now had to use his left—
Lemuel?
Writing to the lieutenant he hated?
Initially Jon decided the rumors about Lemuel relying too heavily on the pain mixture vials were true, and that he really was always in a half stupor as if he’d been drinking mead nonstop since the night he’d been struck by lightning.
But Jon didn’t disregard the message. Intrigued, he wrote back thanking the unidentified “officer who acknowledged the slag problems in Midplain.”
Then came the next message, hinting about long lost valuables, and Jon began to wonder if Thorne was thinking about Colonel Shin. He wrote back, agreeing that losing something one once admired was tragic, and then he got another message that perhaps one should go looking more diligently for what had been lost.
Jon’s heart had stopped momentarily at that suggestion. A few more exchanges convinced Jon that yes, Lemuel was ready to find the truth. The real truth, not the one concocted by Genev which he’d yelled in Jon’s ear for hours before he was convinced Jon believed the Administrator’s version, and he was transferred out of there.
It was only because Jon wanted to know what really happened to the Shins that he was going on Captain Thorne’s secret little mission.
That, and because he’d started to feel sorry for the captain. Dealing with Genev every day had to be misery, and the stories about his now-dead arm, and the mild stench of it, were infamous. It occurred to Jon some time ago that Lemuel probably didn’t have a real friend anywhere in the world.
Not that Jon wanted the position, but he should do something.
Besides, if Colonel Shin was somehow, miraculously, at the end of it all, well then—
Jon walked purposefully through the northeast gates, hoping his old work clothes would make him look like a straw man on his way to the stables, and found himself lost in nostalgia for better days at Fort Shin. His mind was still wandering when he slipped into the back door of the stables and stared in surprise at who stood there, waiting.
“You?”
Lieutenant Radan didn’t even blink. “You’re late.”
“No, I’m not. I’m early—”
“Whatever,” Radan interrupted in that dismissive manner that always irritated Jon. “Yes, I’m just as thrilled to see you as you are to see me, I assure you.”
“Why are you here?”
“You really think Captain Thorne would send you out alone?”
“So you know about this?”
“Of course I do. Who do you think helped Thorne plan it all? No, you see, you’re here to assist me.”
Now Jon knew this was going to be the worst three weeks’ leave ever. Before he could protest, a movement caught his eye. He stepped to the side as Captain Thorne silently came in.
“Keep it down,” he snarled quietly. “Neither of you are supposed to be here, and if word gets back to Genev, I won’t vouch for either of you.”
“Nice to see you again, too,” Radan said, a bit coldly. “How’s my year gone? Oh, rather dismally. And yours?”
Jon blinked at Radan’s abruptness. Usually he’d been so obsequious, but clearly he didn’t think Thorne had any more influence to dribble his way.
Jon managed a smile and nodded to Thorne. “Good to see you up and about, Captain. I understand you’ve made great progress.” It was difficult to not stare at his motionless right arm, hanging limply like a clothed sausage.
Captain Thorne nodded once to him, and something softened in his eyes. “Been a tough year, yes. But I’m hoping to see it changed. That’s why you’re here, both of you. We all know things are not quite right. It’s time to fix that. It’s time to find proof. It’s time to find Jaytsy and her son. My son.”
The words, Oh, you’ve got to be joking, nearly burbled out of Jon’s mouth as he realized the intensity with which Lemuel said her name, and the delusions that must have kept him going all this time.
Feeling Radan’s gaze on him, Jon glanced over at him.
Radan raised his eyebrows briefly as if to say, Yes, it’s that bad.
Jon put on another smile, as if dealing with that old aunt of his who thought she lived in a bucket. “Captain Thorne, we . . . uh, will do all that we can.”
“I know you will. Over there,” said Thorne as he instinctively tried first to motion with the dead right arm, but pointed with his left hand instead, “are two horses you may take, along with emergency rations to last you nearly three weeks. I trust you brought your own changes of clothes? Good. No uniforms. Should you be discovered, I’ll deny any knowledge of your doings. Should you die, I will also not cover for you. You are doing this of your own accord, and for your own personal reasons. Correct?”
Jon knew his reasons, but he wondered about Radan who crisply declared, “Correct!”
Jon nodded too, and took the opportunity to look deeply into Lemuel Thorne’s eyes.
They were hazy, and one drifted slightly.
Jon sighed. I’m heading into the forest on the errand of a drunk, he thought. Still I want to go. So who, really, is to be pitied right now?
“Well then,” Thorne said, “if there are no further questions—” and he made a motion as if to cross his arms, until he remembered one wouldn’t cooperate, “—get moving. Patrols are changing in a few minutes, and I’ve given the order that everyone is to come in at the same time for a quick briefing. That’ll clear the way for about five minutes, so you’ll have time to slip into the forest.” He nodded once to each of them, “Good luck.”
Jon wanted to return the sentiment. Lemuel needed more luck than anyone.
Five minutes later, Offra and Radan rode their horses east in the dark morning, over to the canal, then up into the forest, unseen.
As soon as their horses reached the edge of the forest, Jon felt his stomach lurch. The cluster of trees reminded him acutely of that man who spouted about them “knowing nothing” just before Thorne sliced off his head. Jon could still see his body slouching over, his head rolling away, and the nausea that gripped him, churning his belly all over again.
Jon had also witnessed two of his corporals go down into the thin crust with their horses, their screams of terror fading as they fell.
The forest meant death; it was as simple as that.
“What’s wrong with you?” Radan hissed.
Jon noticed his eyes were closed, and he opened them to see Radan ahead of him about twenty paces.
“Why’d you stop?”
Jon glanced around, realizing he and his skittish horse were just a few feet into the forest.
“Thought I heard something,” he salvaged. While it seemed there was no going onward, there was also no going back. Thorne would never let him return without answers, and Radan wouldn’t let him hide out in a thicket for three weeks.
Reluctantly, Offra kicked the sides of his mare.
“Seems most logical to go up,” Rada
n suggested as Offra caught up. “We’ll look for gaps in the trees and follow those—”
“No, don’t!” Jon said. “That’s how I lost two soldiers. The gaps between the trees is dead ground. That’s why nothing grows there. We need to stick close to the foliage. If trees can survive, so can we.”
“Hmph,” was all that Radan answered.
They proceeded up through the forest, heading in a northerly direction, but it was slow going. Every whiff of sulfur made them stop to work out where it came from. They circled widely any small gap in the ground. And when that ground moaned and creaked at them, Jon didn’t look at Radan, nor did Radan look at him, but they both froze in place, watched the direction of each other’s horses, and scurried out of there like terrified cockroaches.
So focused were they on the steaming ground below them that they didn’t notice that they were being watched from above.
---
But General Shin’s scouts in green and brown mottled clothing weren’t so oblivious.
One naturally dark-skinned man, perched twenty feet up a tree, twitched a message to his companion.
The companion, seated on another branch with mud smeared on his face to conceal his pale skin, jerked back.
It was hours before they felt the two young men had finally crept far enough away that they could have a whispered conversation.
“Who in the world was that?”
“The taller one I recognized as a lieutenant who used to be under Shin. His running companion?”
“I thought that as well. I’m guessing the one who looks more like an agitated rat was the other lieutenant who used to be here.”
“What do you think they’re doing?”
“Nothing smart, that’s for sure.”
“We need to tell General Shin.”
“Can’t. He and Zenos went out yesterday on their Marking Party, remember? They’re way up at the Norden route and aren’t scheduled to come back for another four or five days yet.”
The scouts stared in the direction the nervous soldiers had gone.
“How long do you think they’ll be here?”
“At this rate, they won’t reach the boulders for two days, at least. And then? They’ll be trapped.”
“Agreed. But we should keep watch.”
“Oh, most definitely. The upper scouts should spy them soon enough. Wonder why they’re here? And now?”
“And to think, just the other day I was complaining that the forest had grown boring again.”
---
Mahrree knew in the afternoon, five days after they left, that the men were on their way home. The nearby tower notified her as she was walking with little Salema, who kept trying to uncover the seeds her mother was planting in the garden.
“Mrs. Shin?” called one of the tower men. “There’s a message coming,” he pointed to the next tower in the north. “However, I don’t think I should put up that.”
Mahrree squinted to the north, chagrined that her eyes weren’t quite as sharp as they used to be, but even she could make out the distant General’s banner flapping, and the square flags under it spelling out—
“SOME?”
“Yes, that’s what we were wondering,” the tower man called down to her, irritated. “We’re training a new man over there. The stack of ‘h’ flags is above the stack of ‘s’ ones. I’m guessing he meant to send up ‘home’.”
His companion chuckled. With his scope he could make out the tower beyond the SOME one. “Yes, the message before is definitely HOME. My guess is that the Marking Party is done and trying to tell you that they’re in Norden and on their way home.”
Mahrree grinned. “That gives me a couple of hours to get something big cooking. Thank you!”
She scooped up Salema and headed back to the house to start dinner. Before she reached the kitchen door, she heard the distant tower chimes clang. They had changed their message to now read HOME, and Mahrree chuckled as she heard a distant and faint call of, “Sorry.”
So when a few hours later the side door flew open with a bang, she was expecting to hear Perrin’s bellow of, “HOME! Did you get the message?”
“YES!” she bellowed back, from three feet away. “I got SOME of it.”
He was about to embrace her, but stopped. “Some of it? What does that mean?”
“It means that one of your new men is being retrained, even as we speak. I’d rather stop speaking now, if that’s all right with you?”
He caught her in his arms, and planted a big kiss on her lips.
And kept planting.
“So I have to wait outside until this reunion’s finished?” Shem’s voice drifted from outside the door frame which Perrin blocked.
Neither of them answered him.
Shem sighed loudly. “I know what you’re trying to do, and this really doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.”
When the Shins still didn’t move, Shem began to whistle.
Perrin finally pulled away as Mahrree giggled.
“There are two more doors, you know,” Perrin told him. “You could have used one of those.
“I like this one. Besides, that’s not fair of you since Calla’s father’s not bringing her home until tomorrow afternoon. They didn’t want her riding home in the dark,” he explained to Mahrree.
Perrin put his hands on his waist and faced Shem. “And just how long did you make us wait at the Trovatos while you greeted your own wife, huh?”
Shem sheepishly nodded to Mahrree. “We probably would have been back half an hour earlier,” he admitted.
She laughed. “Come in! Come in!” She pulled him into the house. “Dinner’s nearly ready. I’m sure you will want something different than fish.”
“Yes!” said Shem, taking a chair. “But actually, the food was quite good. Wasn’t it, Perrin?”
Mahrree heard his less-than-subtle hinting.
“Yes, I have to admit it was,” Perrin said slowly, sitting down. “Even Peto enjoyed the food. I think Peto even enjoyed the cook.”
Mahrree looked around. “Where is he, anyway? You didn’t lose him days before his 18th birthday now, did you? Wait a minute . . . the cook?”
Mahrree knew the look in her husband’s eyes. It meant, This isn’t going to be pleasant. For me.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Perrin promised. “They’re delivering our initial report to Guide Gleace.”
“They?” Mahrree nearly squealed. “Who is with him to constitute a they? Tell me all about it!”
“Well the path was a little more difficult to mark at first—”
“I don’t care about your trip, Perrin!” Mahrree cried. “Tell me about the cook!”
Shem had been grinning the entire time. “She is a lovely girl, just turned eighteen herself. By the name of . . . Lilla Trovato!”
Mahrree clapped her hands. “Calla’s youngest sister?”
Shem nodded. “When we went to drop off Calla at her parents’ house, Lilla volunteered to come along and cook for us.”
“And Peto didn’t put up a fuss?”
“Ha! He was the one who convinced Perrin to let her come.”
Mahrree was flabbergasted. “Peto did? Mr. Let’s-Get-the-Men-Away-From-the-Women?”
“The very one. Singing a new song. Well,” Shem nudged Perrin, “singing many new songs now.”
Mahrree pulled up a chair to the table. “What does that mean?”
Perrin growled.
“So Shem,” Mahrree turned to him, realizing he would provide much more information, “tell me about Lilla. I don’t think I spoke to her at your wedding.”
Shem held his hands out to Perrin. “Tell her what you think.”
“Descriptions! I want descriptions!” Mahrree insisted.
“Well,” Perrin said slowly, “unlike her oldest sister, she’s broad shouldered, broad chested—”
“—and broad hearted,” Shem reminded firmly.
Mahrree chuckled. “Interesting that the
first two descriptions sound like a female version of you, Perrin.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Comparable to Peto’s size. If she had any skills, she could likely take him in a fight. Let’s just say she’s a healthy girl.”
“Much better, Perrin,” Shem nodded in approval. “Before, he described her as, ‘Jaytsy-sized plus two large bags of grain’.”
Mahrree snorted behind her hand while Perrin glared at him.
“She’s pleasant looking enough, I suppose,” Perrin continued, clearly pained to do so. “Laughs all the time,” he added with an annoyed tone. “And she sings. In fact, she breaks out into song at the strangest moments. It was really quite unsettling sometimes.”
Shem waved away Perrin’s assessment. “She has a lovely voice.”
“And,” Perrin added with reluctant appreciation, “she can do surprising things with trout, flour, and pine nuts and herbs she found along the way—”
“Ooh,” came Jaytsy’s voice from the side door. “Sounds like a practical girl. Keep going, Father! Who is this?”
“It is nice to see you too, Jaytsy. After five days I expect more than that as a greeting. Where’s my granddaughter?”
“Sorry, she’s down for a late nap.” Jaytsy gave her father a quick hug and kissed his cheek.
“So that hug is acceptable?” Shem asked Perrin slyly.
Perrin growled again.
Mahrree was growing impatient. Something was up with Lilla Trovato, and neither man was willing to stomp on it. “Now what does that mean?”
“Perrin here has a little problem with Lilla—” Shem began.
“Not now,” Perrin warned.
“—You see, Lilla is a very friendly young woman,” Shem ignored the glare. “Innocent, heart of sunshine, but unlike Calla she doesn’t quite understand that some people aren’t as open as others.”
Perrin gave him a meaningful eye twitch which Shem ignored.
“And,” Shem added, “I think she has a thing for Peto.”
Mahrree and Jaytsy exchanged smiles of meddling glee.
“But what does he think of her?” Mahrree asked.
Shem grinned. “He didn’t even try to keep his eyes off of her.”
Jaytsy squealed.
Perrin cringed.
Mahrree slapped the table. “Yes!”
“Every day they lagged behind and laughed and talked and scared away all the rabbits and pheasants we could have had for dinner,” Shem said, “so we were stuck with fish and herbs that aren’t startled by random singing—”
A noise out by the barn stopped Shem.
Mahrree got to her feet. “Is that Peto?”
Perrin shifted nervously. “Probably. Listen, Mahrree, do you mind if Lilla stays with us until her father brings back Calla tomorrow? Not really appropriate for her to stay with Shem alone—”
“Of course!” Mahrree exclaimed.
Jaytsy giggled. “If Peto can’t keep her eyes off of her, maybe she’s not safe here, either. How about at our place? She can have the third bedroom.”
“So is she with Peto?” Mahrree asked.
“Yes,” Perrin sighed. “He took her to meet Guide Gleace.”
“Already?” Mahrree laughed. “This sounds serious.”
“Just to deliver our report! Mahrree . . .” Perrin started.
“What?”
Shem grinned. “Nothing. Let’s go meet her. I’ll do the introductions,” he said, standing up.
“Mahrree” Perrin managed miserably, “she’s a hugger.”
She tried not to laugh, but it came out her nose anyway. “That’s her problem? She’s a hugger?”
With a somber nod Shem added, “And she calls him names—”
“SHEM!” Perrin bellowed.
“Names? Oh, I want to meet this girl!” Jaytsy grabbed her mother’s arm and, without waiting for Shem, they rushed out of the house to the barn.
At the hitching post, Peto was helping Lilla off her horse. Mahrree stopped when she saw him.
“Oh, my. Mother, look at him!” Jaytsy whispered.
“I am!” Mahrree couldn’t remember ever seeing her son voluntarily putting his hands on any female’s waist, yet there he was gingerly helping a sturdy girl fully capable of dismounting by herself. She was not nearly as healthy as Perrin suggested, but could probably wrestle a sheep back into a corral. Her dark blonde hair bounced in her ponytail, and her happy face glowed from the cool air of the early evening. She beamed at Peto, whose hands stayed on her waist much longer than they needed to.
Lilla’s gaze shifted to see Mahrree and Jaytsy waiting, and she bit her lip timidly.
Mahrree knew Peto could feel her eyes on the back of his head. That was probably why he hesitated to turn and face her. A variety of thoughts must have been running through his mind, and Mahrree smiled to herself that tonight he’d be feasting on a whole buffet of nasty words.
Finally, bravely, Peto took a deep breath and turned around.
“Mother! Jaytsy!” He smiled tightly. “This is Lilla Trovato. Lilla, this is—well, you already heard their names, didn’t you?”
Lilla laughed. Mahrree almost looked up to see if they were being attacked by incoming geese before she realized the noise was coming from the poor girl.
“Isn’t he funny?” she crooned. “He’s so funny! My face has never hurt so much!” She grabbed his arm in a hug, and Peto grinned more goofily than Shem ever did as he covered her hand with his.
Mahrree noticed. Oh, did she notice.
And Peto noticed she noticed.
He blushed, his grin faded, and he didn’t seem to know what to do next except to awkwardly remove his hand from hers.
“Yes,” Jaytsy said, delighted to watch Peto squirm. “He’s been known to cause a lot of pain.”
Peto paled under the significant squint of his sister.
Mahrree nudged Jaytsy reprovingly before saying, “Lilla, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’m sure we met at Shem and Calla’s wedding, but I’m afraid I don’t remember it.”
“And it’s wonderful to meet you!” she cried as she released Peto’s arm and rushed over. She hugged Mahrree as Peto watched anxiously.
Mahrree hugged her back and winked at her son who remained rigid with worry.
Lilla let go of her and bounced over to Jaytsy. “I heard about your little girl! She sounds adorable. Can I see her? I love one-year-olds. They’re so silly!”
Jaytsy grinned. “Of course! I was going to go get her and my husband soon. They were both taking a late nap when I left the house, but it’s nearly dinner time and the knowledge that I’m not cooking always brings them running.” And with that, Jaytsy shot a challenge to her brother.
Mahrree could feel the air charging between them. Peto was never one to let pass by an opportunity to knock his sister, although he had been trying to cut down on that since they came to Salem.
Peto blinked once, acknowledging that she was trying to bait him in front of a girl who thought he was the greatest thing on two legs. With exceptional sweetness, Peto said, “I hope they’re both doing well, my dear sister?”
Jaytsy raised an eyebrow. So that’s how they were going to play it. “Yes, yes they are, my dear brother.”
Mahrree worried her face would screw up into permanent paralysis with the force she exerted to not snort at her children.
“Good, good,” Peto said as he walked up to Lilla and put a hand against her back.
No, that snort wasn’t going to be held back any longer, and Mahrree turned it into a believable cough.
“So,” Shem’s voice came from the open door to the house. “You two made it back all right? I was thinking you would take a much longer route to get here. Maybe show Lilla the scenic way to the house? Come on in. And Lilla, Perrin was just saying how much he missed your company.”
Perrin’s throat clearing could be heard even outside.
Lilla laughed as she walked with Peto to the house, Jaytsy and Mahrree followin
g, so she could see just how long Peto kept his hand on Lilla’s back. “Well you can tell Papa Pere he doesn’t fool or scare me, no matter how many times he raises that eyebrow.”
Mahrree and Jaytsy stopped in their tracks and looked at each other.
“Did she,” Jaytsy said, “just call him Papa Pere?”
Mahrree began to giggle. “How is it possible there’s such a girl in Salem?”
Snickering, they hurried into the house to find Lilla already hugging her brother-in-law, whom she’d said goodbye to less than an hour ago.
And there stood Perrin behind the table, looking as unhuggable as possible.
“Hello, you . . . ” he paused to find the words, “you two. Reached Guide Gleace all right? Give him our initial report in song?”
Again Mahrree had the impression geese were about to land as Lilla laughed. “Oh, you are such a tease, aren’t you!” She marched right up to him and . . .
Well, if Mahrree hadn’t witnessed it herself, she never would have believed that Lilla actually pinched General Shin on the cheek.
She knew her mouth was agape as Jaytsy next to her gasped.
But Shem folded his arms and leaned back against the wall to enjoy the show.
As for Peto, he looked down at the floor and grinned.
Peto, Mahrree sent the thought, keep this one, if you can.
Lilla turned to Mahrree, standing so close to Perrin she was nearly leaning on him. He tried to drift to his right, but the corner of the walls stopped him. To his left was the table. He was trapped.
“You know,” Lilla said, gesturing to Perrin behind her, “he’s been trying to intimidate me since the first day. But I saw right through him. Big, tough, captain—”
“General,” Perrin corrected, and clearly not for the first time.
“—whatever, army man. ‘Oh, this trip will be hazardous, Lilla,’” she said in a low voice and furrowed her eyebrows in a surprisingly good imitation of Perrin.
Mahrree slapped her hand over her mouth but she couldn’t stop the laughter in her eyes.
“‘We men can walk faster than you, Lilla. You don’t know the dangers here, Lilla!’ But I kept up and poor Peto would have wasted away to nothing if I hadn’t been there to cook for him.”
Lilla gazed adoringly at Peto who desperately wanted to gaze back at her, but that would have let everyone know how he felt. Instead his eyes darted to her, to the floor, and to any other spot in the room that wouldn’t make him squirm, as if he were following an impulsive fly.
Next to Lilla, Perrin’s own eyes were darting, desperately looking for an escape route.
“But then on the second evening we saw a bear, right on our path,” Lilla continued, ignoring the worried gasps from Mahrree and Jaytsy. “This big, growling thing—”
“It wasn’t growling,” Perrin murmured. “It was eating berries.”
Lilla disregarded that. “—and those three just stood there talking about how to get around it. Well, I knew what had to be done. I’ve been in those mountains far more often than these three. So I started shouting and waving my arms, and picked up some rocks and kept throwing them at the bear until he scampered off into the forest. That night I decided he,” she jabbed a thumb casually into the side of Perrin, whose patience was being tested considerably, “is nothing but a big bear. Oh, he may growl a lot—”
Mahrree was struggling so hard her eyes were now watering.
Next to her, Jaytsy was shaking.
Peto kept following the invisible fly which landed frequently on Lilla.
Shem grinned at Perrin’s obvious discomfort.
“—but he’s just a big old softy, isn’t he? Then I started thinking, Bear, Perrin, Perr as in Bear, and he is a papa, so there was his new name: Papa Pere! And I’m going to soften him up if it’s the last thing I do!” She wrapped her arms around his unrelenting body and gave him a big squeeze.
Mahrree wiped the tears from her eyes. She didn’t dare say, And this just might be the very last thing you do.
Jaytsy’s face was red from suppressed laughter, and Shem was now smirking in empathetic pain.
Perrin looked as if he would topple over, but Peto beamed at Lilla, the bravest woman in Salem.
Suddenly Perrin’s face brightened as he looked to the open door.
“Nice to see some men around here again. Welcome home!” Deck, with Salema in his arms, eyed Perrin and the girl wrapped around him.
Perrin saw his salvation. “Ah, Deck! You have no idea how happy I am to see you! Here, give me my little girl.” He carefully pushed Lilla away and strode over to take his granddaughter out of Deck’s arms. “And what do you have to say to me, Salema?”
“Probably not what you want to hear,” Deck said, glancing inquisitively at Lilla.
Perrin sat down with the baby. “Perrin,” he said distinctly. “Come on, Salema, you can say it! Perrin.”
“Ooh,” Lilla giggled. “Papa Pere already is a big softy.”
Perrin froze in place as his granddaughter’s eyes met his.
Deck smirked. “Papa Pere? Hey, that’s kind of cute, isn’t it?”
“Don’t say it, Salema,” Perrin whispered. “Whatever you do, don’t say it.”
“Pewre,” she managed. “Pa Pewre,”
“No, no, no! Pere-in. Pere-in!”
“It’s useless, Perrin,” Mahrree laughed. “It sounds like it’s either Papa Pere or the other name.”
Salema looked to her grandmother. “Muggah!” she said proudly.
“Wow!” Lilla said to Peto who now stood very close to her, “You’re right—she can talk pretty well for a baby.”
“Shin family trait,” Peto told her. “We start to babble early and we never quit.”
“Now he tells me,” Deck whispered to Shem.
“So what does Muggah mean?” Lilla asked.
Jaytsy giggled. “Mahrree. These two grandparents refuse to be called grandparents, so they’ve been trying to get Salema to call them by their first names. She can’t make a good ‘r’ sound yet, which is rather important to each of their names. So Mahrree comes out as Muggah.”
“But that’s so cute!” Lilla gushed. “It’s like grandma, but twisted up.”
Mahrree shrugged. “Yes, I suppose we can’t avoid the labels. It’s starting to grow on me. I keep telling myself it’s only temporary until she can get her r’s figured out.”
Lilla gestured to Perrin. “So what does Salema call him?”
“Puggah!” Deck told her.
“Puggah,” Salema repeated, looking adoringly at her grandfather with her big, brown cow eyes.
He sighed and pushed away a lock of her black wavy hair. “We’ve discussed this, Salema. Even ‘Colonel Cuddly’ would be better than that,” he whispered.
“Puggah.”
“That . . .” Lilla started slowly, “is . . . . absolutely ADORABLE! Muggah! Puggah!”
Perrin rubbed his forehead with his free hand.
---
After dinner Peto followed Jaytsy out of the house as she started for hers to ready the room for Lilla. He caught up to her and walked alongside.
“Jaytsy, I appreciate you letting her stay with you, but I’m sure we could take care of her.”
“No, I’m sorry little brother. I saw the way you watched at her during dinner. She shouldn’t be left in such close proximity to you.”
Peto groaned softly.
“Yes, Peto, it’s that obvious.”
“Oh, no, no, no—”
“Don’t worry. She’ll win over Father eventually. Mother seems to like her. She kept watching her with that odd smile on her face. The same one she kept giving you.”
“Jaytsy,” Peto said, “It’s just that . . . it’s just that . . .”
“It’s just what?” Jaytsy said, stopping at her front porch. She saw in her brother’s face what only could be described as agony. Delicious agony.
“Jayts, I know I haven’t been the best brother. In fac
t, if there were a contest for meanest sibling, I might have had a good chance at winning it when we were younger. Good thing there’s no competition in Salem, right?” he chuckled nervously.
She narrowed her eyes. “True, very true.”
“And I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. But we’ve had some good times, though, right? Covered for each other, got along at times? Please, there’s so much that you know about me, and . . .” He gripped her arms. “Jaytsy, please, don’t tell her all that you know about me! Can you just please, please for tonight forget some of my stupid stuff?”
Jaytsy blinked. “You just said ‘please’ four times. I didn’t even know you knew that word.”
“Jaytsy, I’m begging you!”
“I know. And I love it. You’re positively sick over her, aren’t you?”
Peto staggered helplessly. “It’s so stupid. I know it is. After all the things I’ve said—”
Jaytsy couldn’t stand it anymore. As much as she enjoyed his distress, he was her brother, after all. Perhaps the generous spirit of Salem was finally rubbing off on her.
“Not that you helped a lot with Deck and me—”
All right, Salem needed to rub off on her a bit more.
“—but Peto, don’t worry. She’s adorable, and I love what she’s doing to Father. It takes an extraordinary personality to not be intimidated by him. If she’s the right one for you, I promise I’ll not do anything to ruin this. In fact, I’ll do all I can to convince her you’re the greatest man in the world.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard, now should it?” the old Peto said flippantly.
Then the new Peto cringed. “I shouldn’t have said that. Ah, Jaytsy! How do I do this? Help me!”
Jaytsy patted him on the back. “You are beyond help, my poor Peto. She has to see the real you, little brother. And if she still can tolerate that, then she’s definitely the right one. You best get back to her. I think Deck was planning to administer a ‘practical’ quiz.”
Peto nodded thankfully as Jaytsy walked into her house, and he headed back to his. It looked different tonight as he heard Lilla’s laugh drift outside to his ears, as if geese were trapped in the kitchen. His orchard of tiny sprouting trees looked different too, as if eager to grow big enough to allow small children to climb in the branches and throw the bad apples at each other.
As long as they don’t knock down my peaches, Peto thought.
He smiled when he remembered his conversation with his sister just over a year ago. The world is so different today, Peto, she had said. I hope you can understand someday.
He had thought ‘someday’ would be years from then, when he was twenty-eight and finally finding his wife, or thirty-eight, like Shem. Why marry young when you can go on a Salem expedition or two? He’d been thinking that he could take time off from the university, and since they had the routes mapped, he could leave for a while and go exploring . . .
So why did none of that sound interesting anymore?
He couldn’t shake the words of Guide Gleace when they were at the ancient temple site. What if he didn’t have twenty years to explore the world like Shem? And why was he suddenly so concerned about the health of the orchard he told his mother she was in charge of, or where his parents would want their addition built?
Strangely, the idea of being ‘tied’ to someone now sounded like the greatest adventure he could imagine, not wandering around in the wilderness with a bunch of single men.
He sighed again as he neared the house.
Maybe he could tolerate just one more wedding . . .
But he would not—NOT—let his father teach him anything about any kind of “art.”
Maybe Shem could, though, Peto considered.
Shem should know a thing or two by now about making Trovato women happy.
---
“So I was thinking, if Lilla is the girl for Peto, this could make for a very confusing family line for their children.”
“Mahrree, why are you doing this?”
“Because you don’t appreciate me waking you up to talk, so I’m talking to you before you go to sleep,” she told him as he pulled the blankets over his head.
“For five nights I’ve laid on the hard ground listening to the two of them giggling at each other across the fire. Shem and I were on high alert every night. And now that I finally get to rest on my nice, soft bed, you start up.”
Mahrree giggled.
Perrin groaned. “With more giggling.”
“Sorry. It’s just fun to think about.”
“Don’t do this. Just don’t do this—”
“It will only take a minute, I promise. Think about it: Peto grew up calling Shem ‘uncle.’ Then we get here and find out he’s actually a distant cousin, twice! But if Peto married Lilla, then Shem really would be an uncle, but to Peto’s children. So if Peto calls Shem ‘uncle’ again, his children could be confused, because Shem would actually be his brother-in-law. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Perrin just sighed. He’d learned long ago that his wife finished sooner if he didn’t contribute to her monologue.
Mahrree continued. “Yudit told me people sometimes try to draw up their family lines as trees, but she prefers vines instead. You go back a few generations and everyone’s family gets tangled up in everyone else’s. She’s sure she could prove Deck has family in Salem somewhere, if only she could find more secret lines. And I really think that was the Creator’s intent—to get us all interconnected so much we don’t want to harm or offend or judge unfairly because we are all family!” Mahrree finished enthusiastically.
Perrin waited a moment before responding, just to make sure she was done. If he said too much, their conversation, which would have been more appropriate over breakfast, wouldn’t end until then.
“When I said, ‘Don’t do this,’” he said wearily, “I meant, don’t marry Peto off too soon. But you’ve already drafted the new family lines for him. When are you going to stop making plans for other people?”
“Oh, I’m not making any plans. Just thinking. You’re the one who makes plans, remember?”
Perrin sighed as The Cat jumped on to his chest and began to purr.
Chapter 32--“This isn’t Idumea coming,
is it?”