Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Children of the Pebble ❯ Kisses, Part Three ( Chapter 6 )

Children of the Pebble

By “Clinesterton Beademung”, with all of love.

 

Disclaimer: “Trigun” © its respective creators and owners. I do this for fun, not profit. So there.

 

Comments and criticism welcome.

 

Chapter Six - Kisses (Part Three)

---

“Do you believe in God?”

Milly drew her spoon from her mouth, looked at a point on the ceiling.

“I don't know,” she said. “I guess I never really thought about it. What about you?”

Meryl scooped the last bite of ice cream out of her bowl.

“I suppose so,” she said. “Not as much as my mother does, but yes.” Meryl reached across the bed for the half-dallon bucket of rocky road Milly liberated from the freezer. Plenty left, but the wine was getting low.

“What about your dad?” Milly said.

“My father believes in hard work and low taxes,” Meryl said, dumping a scoop of the frozen confection into her bowl. She plucked the bottle of wine from the nightstand, filled her glass halfway.

“Just like my dad,” Milly said. “On a farm this big Sunday's just another workday.”

Meryl sat cross-legged, resting her elbows on a pillow with the letter B cross-stitched on a corner of the linen pillowcase. Beatrice, Milly's eldest sister, was a doctor in September City and would arrive in a couple of days to help with the harvest. Judging by the vast plain of mattress around her and Milly, Beatrice was even taller than Milly was.

“Everyone needs a day of rest, Milly. Even Bernardelli gave us time off.”

“To tell you the truth I kind of miss the Society. Traveling around, seeing the world…”

“Getting shot at, taken hostage…”

“Meeting new people, helping others in need…”

“Dodging bullets, running for our lives…”

“Compared to the fields that job was a great big vacation.”

“More like a great big headache.”

Milly bounced into a sitting position and reached for the bucket. Grumbling, Meryl raised her wineglass to cushion the effects.

“Hey, quit hogging the ice cream,” she said.

“Eat faster.”

“If I eat any faster I'll get a headache.” Meryl rubbed her eyes and yawned. Why such overnight stays were called sleepovers when no one actually gets to sleep was a mystery. Milly looked ready to go all night long.

“How about a game of chess?” Milly said. “I'll spot you a knight.”

“You'll spot me more than that.” Maybe if Milly gave up her queen…

“I'm not giving you my queen.”

“I wasn't asking for it, now was I?”

“You were going to.”

“No I wasn't.”

“Yes you were.”

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Not.” Meryl had considered dropping Milly off and going straight home. But if her parents' behavior at breakfast was any indication of their subsequent actions—well, there were certain images of her mother and father Meryl didn't want to have. And if they hadn't even made it to their bedroom—

“Meryl, what's wrong?” Milly's voice changed. “That face you make…”

“Nothing, Milly. I'm sorry, I'm just tired.”

“And you did say you've been ill, didn't you? Sorry about that. I'm just so excited to have you here.” Milly dropped the spoons into the empty half-dallon bucket and collected the bowls. “Breakfast's at six o'clock sharp, if you want to join us. Me, I think I might sleep in a little.”

“I might be gone before you wake up, Milly,” Meryl said. “Tomorrow's Sunday.” She doubted Mother would mind too much if she slept in, but Mother would enjoy the company.

“Then I'll say my goodbyes now.” Meryl braced herself for the Bear Hug of the Century, and was astonished when Milly only covered Meryl's hand with hers. “I had a nice time tonight.”

Moved, Meryl could only copy Milly's gesture.

“We'll go out again soon,” Meryl said. “I promise.”

“Just us girls?”

“Just us girls.”

“Good night, Meryl,” Milly said, rising from the bed. “And don't stay up too late reading your dirty book.”

“Good night, Milly.” When Milly was gone and the bedroom door was closed. Meryl reached for the lamp on the nightstand. With a click of the switch the room darkened.

Milly was right to suggest leaving when she did. When she and Milly arrived Mrs. Thompson met them at the door and gave Milly a gentle scolding for being late. Meryl assured Mrs. Thompson that Milly was a skilled driver and explained that their evening together had left her a little tipsy, whereupon Mrs. Thompson delivered another lecture on the responsible use of alcoholic beverages.

Meryl winced at Milly's elbow to her shoulder, and was about to follow her friend inside when she felt Mrs. Thompson—holding her back, somehow. She turned to face Milly's mother: tall and slim in a peasant blouse and skirt, suntanned and hardened by a lifetime of labor in the fields. She could've lifted Meryl with one arm but it was not physical strength that held Meryl fast on the screened porch. It was her eyes, aquamarine in color, vivid and terrible to behold only a few hours before, now veiled and muted like moons behind the clouds.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Thompson said without words. I'm glad Milly has a friend like you.

After that silent message Meryl was released, free to breathe again.

The Second and Fourth Moons should be up by now, Meryl thought. She climbed out of bed and drew back the heavy drapes over the south window. Pleased, Meryl thrust her hand under the bed and into her sack of purchases. She felt around until she found the second bag of thick brown paper. Meryl slipped under the covers, turned onto her stomach and pulled the blanket over her head.

The Untold Stories of Vash the Stampede blared the comic book's title. Under the words was a man, muscled as a sand steamer fireman and with a look of maniacal hatred on his face, standing atop a pile of debris from which protruded metal beams and bloodied human limbs.

Meryl's heart pounded. She'd loved this book ever since middle school, when a classmate at Our Lady of Love and Peace had slipped her a copy in exchange for her lunch money, loved it even after she was caught reading it in class. Puerile filth, Sister Catherine had called it, after every paddling.

Puerile filth. Meryl opened the cover.

Darn, she thought. The book had declined in her long absence from its readership. The first story, Vash and the Two Milkwives of Maybel Town, was a disappointment. The steamy romance novels she occasionally enjoyed had better dialogue than this garbage. Still, the artwork was good. The splash page for the climactic scene showed a Vash that looked more like Milly's father, a giant who could tear a thomas leather-bound phone book or chew tenpenny nails, at the top of a high leap over a barricade of angry, bewildered townsmen. Long blond hair streamed from the caricature Vash's head. An obscene leer spread across his otherwise handsome face. And under each arm he bore a young woman, one screaming herself faint, the other faint with joy, happy to be leaving her fleabite of a town at last in the arms of the only man she'd ever loved.

Meryl ran her finger down the paper center of the cartoon Vash's exposed chest. At least the artist got one thing right.

 

---

 

In the Ship's cybernetics lab just aft of bulkhead seventy, Vash held his arm rigid on the worktable, willing the glass eye in his left palm to close.

“What do you think?” said the designer of his new arm.

“I think you have way too much time on your hands, Doc.” Vash willed again. The pseudoderm lids twitched but didn't close over the lens.

Doc set a cup of coffee near Vash's right hand and took the stool beside him.

“I've been working on this prosthetic for fifteen years,” Doc said. “You shouldn't expect to control it fully in an hour.”

Vash continued his exercise, and after ten more failures Doc took pity on him and touched the retract stud on the wrist. The glass hemisphere pulled into his palm and the fake skin closed over it. The seam, contact surfaces nanosculpted to intermolecular tolerances, was invisible.

“How does it feel, having a left arm indistinguishable from a normal arm?”

Vash blew on the hairs. Goosebumps rose on the skin.

“Wonderful, Doc. I can't thank you enough.”

“You're welcome. I figured it was about time you enjoyed some normalcy.”

“The Humanoid Typhoon is looking forward to retirement.” Maybe he'd live in Inepril and get fat on Gram's salmon sandwiches. The city council certainly had been nice to him, would see turning him in for the bounty as contrary to their interests.

The entire ship moved, as if it were falling, then stopped.

“I've been meaning to ask you about that, Vash.” Doc drained his cup of coffee. “Now that you've dealt with Knives, will you give serious thought to my suggestion?”

“Doc…”

“Now, don't get me wrong, son. If anyone on this world deserves a rest, it's you. Twenty million people will owe their lives to you and never know it. But I and the skeleton crew left on this Ship won't be able to keep it upright forever. And I won't be around forever, either.”

Vash sighed heavily. “It's more complicated than that.”

“In what way?” Doc turned from his task.

“Um.” Vash examined the contents of the laboratory, inventoried the entire room with a sweeping glance, but there was no place to look that he didn't see Doc's intense stare. Somewhere out there was a dark haired insurance girl.

“I see,” Doc said, comprehension dawning on his round face. “Someone from the Ship? Not Jessica, I take it.”

“No. Not Jessica.” Vash described Meryl and how they'd come to meet. When the story was over Doc laughed, slapped his knees and jumped from the stool.

“I'm happy for you, Vash. As I've said, no one deserves it more. But if this is to be done, it'll have to be soon.” Vash assured Doc that he understood. Doc wished him good night and left the laboratory.

Back in his quarters, Vash dressed for bed. It wasn't as if Meryl were the hottest girl on the planet, or the prettiest, or even the nicest. Meryl Stryfe was brash and annoying, dedicated to the point of obsession, and gifted with a stare that made him feel like a paramecium in a Petri dish. Most men would question his standards of beauty, if not his sanity.

Then again, Vash thought as he lay down, most men had not seen what he'd seen in Keybas.

 

---

 

He should've known.

Every group of kids had its troublemakers, and this bunch outside Keybas was no exception. His experience with children over the years had taught him the aspects of their behavior and demeanor to watch out for, to spot the first inclinations to criminal intent and stop them before they went too far.

During his regular sentry duty he'd looked in the window and found three of the kids' beds empty. Suspecting foul play he'd searched the house and found three boys bunched together outside, fighting over a crack in the bathroom wall.

Little punks, Vash thought. The short insurance girl and her partner had worked hard all day to feed, water, and put to bed all these kids. Now all Meryl wanted was some time alone to rest and bathe. Apparently for these miscreants that was too much to ask. In a commanding voice he made his presence known.

“Get lost, broomhead,” said the biggest boy, obviously the leader.

“Yeah, we were here first,” said the second.

“Come on, Neethan, it's my turn,” said the third.

Vash allowed that he was unaccustomed to being addressed in so discourteous a manner and demanded they give up their illicit activities and return to bed.

“What'll you give us, loser?”

“Yeah, finder's keepers, losers pay cash.”

“Oh, yeah…you can sell me insurance anytime, baby…”

Offended by the lad's suggestion that he, Vash the Stampede, was anything less than a perfect gentleman, he naturally refused payment of any kind.

“Think again, pervert.”

“Yeah, you want a peek, you pay up.”

“And maybe if you give us enough we won't tell her it was you peeking and not us.”

Vash looked at his wallet, empty of cash as outer space was of air. The little brats had skinned him alive but at least Meryl would be able to bathe in peace. Time to head back. Wolfwood was taking the next watch in an hour.

The smudge of light on the wall opposite the crack filled Vash's vision.

No, Vash thought. He was a perfect gentleman. He was a perfect gentleman and if Meryl caught him violating her privacy she'd hurt him something fierce and those little mercenaries would sell him out just to watch her do it. He'd paid enough already.

Paid more than enough, in fact. He was entitled to his money's worth, was he not?

Vash crouched and put his eye to the crack.

How about that. The little insurance girl liked bubble baths. Darn it all. Whatever the third boy had seen was hidden under mounds of suds that glistened under the weak light over the mirror. But such a look of peace and pleasure was on Meryl's face that he was transfixed. She'd never smiled like that before. Never thought she had it in her.

Meryl lifted her arm from the water and hung it over the edge of the tub. She snapped wet fingers and bobbed her head to a tune only she could hear. She surrendered to the music, hummed, then sang the melody without words. Lovely voice. Vash resolved to let her use his portable stereo and give her some real music someday.

The insurance girl's singing was interrupted by a deep squeal of skin on porcelain. Meryl slipped and went under the water. She reemerged, spitting bubbles from her lips and wiping them from her eyes. Darn it all, she was going to have to come out of there sometime. This city girl who wore earrings to a gunfight didn't strike him as the type to accept being pruneified no matter how much she enjoyed a bath. Maybe right about—

Now. Meryl dunked herself, broke the surface, and smoothed hair and water from her heat pink face. She reached for the towel, and boy oh boy this was it this was going to be—

Crap. Clingy suckers, those bubbles.

Meryl wrapped the towel around her body, tiptoed to the bathmat in front of the sink. She wiped a clear spot on the mirror, took another towel from its rack and shook it through her hair.

Vash lamented the money spent. Even a New Oregon peep show was better than this. His knees ached and Wolfwood was—

Waiting. Waiting for this moment.

Meryl had dropped the towel. Steam rose from her lean naked body. Goosebumps speckled her pink-as-sunset skin. Eyes closed, head tilted back, she let moisture run between her breasts. Muscle flowed under her flat belly with every breath.

Worth it…worth every penny…

 

---

 

He's not what she expects.

She's a proper, civilized woman, a dedicated professional, not given to stampeding into a man's room when she hears something out of the ordinary. What else did one hear from the Humanoid Typhoon? But such a commotion merited a closer look. She would be failing her employers if she didn't keep him out of trouble.

She's a proper, civilized woman, not given to staring at a half-dressed man in his own room.

Did this villain have no shame? The nerve of this goofy gunman, showing off his body, as if she weren't there—

Impossible. Impossible, to bind metal to flesh and not know pain with every movement. Scar tissue and steel. How he must suffer, even now.

He allows her to approach, his face neutral but full of intent. She plunges her hand through inhibition and doubt, grazes the valley between the muscled planes of his chest.

Her hand wanders, and where it passes the scars and steel vanish. He is all that remains: unmarred, perfect.

 

---

 

Can you forget my scars? he asks the insurance girl as he passes through the wall like a mist and surrounds her with arms of flesh. Can you forget? he asks as he lowers her to the bathroom floor and onto the fallen towel. Can you forget, Meryl Stryfe of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, what you see on the outside, all the horrors and insults my enemies have left on my body? Can you forget the laughing, bumbling fool of a pretender I've had to be to protect my life and the lives of others?

Born within time, can you forget that you will die?

Please say yes.

 

---

 

Yes, she answers. Yes, Vash, I can forget. I can forget you're the most wanted man alive, I can forget that somehow you were part of what happened to July and Augusta, some part of you I'll never understand or reach.

I can forget everything, she gasps as he enters her. I can forget if you help me. I can forget the pain and it's gone, nothing left but heat and silk oh God

“Yes.”

I can forget, make me forget, please

“Vash.”

I'm lost, lost in the light

“Vash…”

Your eyes and heart afire

“Vash…”

In the light fading dissolving dying

“Vash!”

Meryl clutched her pillow to her chest, breathing like a thomas run hard. Her head pounded, her heart throbbed, but it was not the rapid pulsing of either that filled her with pleasure but the deep and satisfying earthquake of contractions somewhere south of her belly button.

She hadn't had a dream like that since high school. Cute guy, that captain of the Academy dodgeball team. She turned onto her back. That broomheaded idiot was going to pay for this—

Meryl gasped, sat up and drew the covers over her chest. Milly stood in the bedroom doorway, swaying like a whipgrass reed in the wind.

Meryl had seen Milly asleep on countless occasions but on none of those occasions had Milly shown any inclination to walk in her sleep. And even if she had, Milly had never been so forward as to disturb Meryl in her own rest.

Milly entered the bedroom, hopping from foot to foot in a walk like that of a small child. The mattress sank when Milly sat on the edge of the bed.

“Big big sister,” Milly said, her voice high and meek, her eyes open but heavy lidded.

Meryl had heard that waking a sleepwalker was a bad idea, that the shock of being awakened and finding herself out of bed could provoke a violent or unhealthy response. But Milly didn't seem anxious or upset. She just sat there, swaying, blinking her eyes at what she saw in her dreams.

“Big big sister…”

Meryl leaned over her legs, rested her chin on her hands. She'd never been a heavy sleeper but recent events compelled Meryl to appreciate all the sleep she could get. This could go on for the rest of the night.

“It's me, Milly,” she said. “It's Meryl. Remember?”

“No…” Milly said. “No Meryl. Who's Meryl, Bea?”

Meryl rubbed her eyes. Fine, then. If she had to be Beatrice, she would be Beatrice.

“Just playing a game, Milly.”

“Oh. I like games. Wanna play chess, Bea?”

“No, Milly, I don't want to play a game now. Your big big sister is very tired and needs to sleep.”

The sway in Milly's body slowed.

“Sorry, Bea,” Milly said. “Always in the way, I know…”

Meryl sat up straight. One technique that all Bernardelli managers learned was that of talking up a junior employee who lacked confidence in his or her abilities. In all her years with Milly she'd never had to use it. Until tonight.

“You're not always in the way,” Meryl said.

“Always underfoot…can't do anything right…”

“Milly, that is not true. You've been a great help to me.”

“Really?”

“Really. You're a good girl, Milly. Don't ever forget it.” Meryl's heart sank. How many attagirls had she ever given her junior partner while they worked together? Not many. Milly had never needed them.

“I'm a good girl.” Meryl was pleased when the hint of a smile creased Milly's mouth. It faded. “Then…why?”

“Why what, Milly?”

“Why do they go away? Why did he go away?”

“Who? Who went away?”

“Promised to come back…promised cross my heart…hope to die…hope to die…”

Meryl had seen Milly in grief. The hours she'd watched her junior agent crying for Mr. Wolfwood had been terrible to bear. But nothing prepared her for the quiet wail of despair that seemed to rend all of Meryl's senses at once.

“Promised…made me promise…why…tell me why…”

“Milly—Oh, Milly, I don't know.”

“Don't go…please don't go…don't leave me…”

Meryl could bear her friend's crushing sadness no longer. She had to act, and if that meant waking her up, so be it. She scooted closer and held Milly's arms.

“Milly, listen to me. Will you listen to your big sister?”

“Yes,” she said. Her face blank, voice neutral again.

“I don't know why. I don't know why about much of anything, and what I do know I can never tell you, for the protection of you and of everyone I love. What I can tell you is this. It's over, Milly. He will never hurt anyone again. Vash has seen to that. He promised me he would, and I believe him.”

Milly waited. Meryl made a decision.

“I have a confession to make. Everything you said at my grandparents' house, remember? It's all true. I'm sorry I denied it, but it's true. That's exactly what I want. That's all I want. Even now I don't know if it will happen, but when I see him again I'm going to be very persuasive. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“I've seen enough death and dying. I want to see life and living, and I want you to see it, too.” Meryl took Milly's hand. “It's time to move on, sweetheart. Grieve and move on, because I can't bear to see you like this anymore. It's what he'd want. Maybe not now, maybe when you're truly ready, but it's time to start.”

Meryl rose to her knees.

“Milly, you're my best friend in the whole world, and I love you. We've been through hell together and I'll never—oh, damn,” she said, overcome. “Now look at what you made me do.”

“Don't be sad…big big sister,” Milly said. “I'm sorry…won't make you sad anymore.”

“You'd better not,” Meryl said, sniffling. “I'm only your sister, but that doesn't mean I can't turn you over my knee, you hear me?”

“Yes…”

“Now, don't you think it's time to go back to bed?”

Milly didn't move. Well, if Milly was waiting to be carried back to her room Milly could sit here all night. She was going back to bed—

“Kiss me goodnight…” Milly said.

Meryl sat back, nonplussed. Months ago that request had come from the orphans at Keybas while she put them to bed and though she'd felt awkward and out of place she'd granted it, bestowing a hug and a kiss on any child who wanted or seemed to need it. Never in her life had she hated being an only child more.

Meryl leaned forward, put her lips to Milly's cheek. Milly swayed, waiting.

“Other side…”

Meryl put her hands on her hips. Good Lord, if getting kids to bed was going to be this much trouble Meryl wasn't sure she wanted any part of motherhood. Would she ask for a glass of water next? A trip to the potty? But Meryl closed her eyes and pressed another kiss to Milly's other cheek.

As Meryl drew back, she felt something—two somethings—soft and warm brush her lips. Throughout Meryl's body spread an uncontrollable glow of heat, as if she were an iron ingot in a blacksmith's furnace. Milly bounced to the bedroom door. Her footsteps thumped on the hallway floor.

Maybe I really am ambidextrous, Meryl thought.

Helpless and convulsed with silent laughter she threw herself backward onto the bed, pressed her face into her pillow, pounded the mattress and kicked the sheets until, breathless and sore, she could laugh no longer.

 

---

 

On the Ship, Vash stretched and yawned.

By far that was the most relaxing and restful sleep he'd enjoyed in many days. The sheer sweet momentum of it kept his body loose and unwilling to obey his commands, but Doc would have things for him to do while he was here and it was best to get to them as soon as possible. Vash raised his head and when he pulled himself up, he felt moisture where none should've been.

He wondered where it came from. And the more Vash wondered about it, the less he wanted to know.

“Aw, man,” he said, flopping back on the bed. He made a mental note, adding laundry to his list of things to do.

Undressing proved to be a sticky business. That little insurance girl was going to owe him, big time.

 

---

 

As it happened, Meryl found little time to spare.

The harvest was not busy only for farmers. The explosive growth of arable land hectacreage and the paradoxical slow advance of agricultural technology made harvesting labor intensive, and the cities emptied the sons and daughters of the latest generation of farmers into the cultivated countryside into which they were born.

Meryl, being one generation removed from the need to walk the fields and wield a scythe, was, according to tradition, exempt. Despite the need for laborers the cities had to be kept running. For her, the city's labor crisis was an opportunity, and she relented under the plain logic of Father's arguments. Her old office, a converted broom closet, was made ready, and amidst the never quite gone scent of dust and ammonia she bent to her labors as if putting her back to a hand plow.

The days and the nights rolled by, unstoppable as the spinning of the planet that defined and shaped them. Work and family sliced time into routine, routine into ritual that exorcised the demons of Meryl's nightmares and filled her sleep with empty rest.

“No nightmares at all, darling? Be honest.”

“No, Mother,” Meryl said, drawing the brush through her mother's golden hair. “No nightmares at all.”

“At least you're sleeping well. What a blessing that must be.”

“If it were up to Father, I'd never sleep again.” But overtime was overtime and she could use the money.

“Must you leave? You're welcome to stay, you know.”

“Yes, Mother. It's something I have to do.”

“A woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do, right?”

Meryl rolled her eyes. That stupid phrase had been Grandma's own pat answer. She hoped Mother would offer more insight on a subject she'd wanted to bring up since her visit with Milly.

“Mother, why did I never—”

“Why did you never have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Meryl said, again astonished at the perspicacity motherhood seemed to bestow on those women brave enough to accept it.

“Well, it wasn't for lack of trying.”

“Mother, please…”

“I'm sorry. Wasn't in the cards, I suppose. You were the first girl born to a Stryfe in five generations, and—well, maybe we used up all our luck on you. But your father and I wouldn't have traded you for any ten boys ever born, Meryl, and though she and I didn't agree on much, your grandmother felt exactly the same way. And don't you forget it.”

“No, Mother.” Meryl wrapped her arms around Mother's chest and kissed her cheek. “One more thing I've been wondering about. I can't help noticing that you've never asked me why—”

“Why you came home? For the same reason any child does, my darling. To be taken care of. Now go on, your father's waiting. Don't stay out too late. Your bus leaves at six.”

Under the light of all five moons the Land Rush Highway was as clear and safe as a midtown sidewalk during lunch hour. Meryl could've driven the route blindfolded but eschewed such a stunt in favor of admiring the curious coloring that made each moon's reflected light distinct. Maybe they were as alien to this world as people, she thought. Just as alien and just as marooned.

The great magenta eye of the Fifth Moon, distinct in its own unsettling way, followed Meryl to the homestead. She parked her car beside the old jeep in the driveway. Inside the house Meryl climbed the fold-down stairs to the roof. Father sat on a low wooden bench Grandpa had made before she was born.

“Hello, Father.”

“Hello, Meryl.” A crunch of ice. “Beer?”

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cold, wet bottle of Kuroneko. Kuroneko. Strange name for a beer. She supposed it meant black cat, judging by the absurd logo on the label. The seal cracked with a hiss. She drew a long pull. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not very long. Getting the house into shape, just in case. Termites got to the sofa but I can fix that.” He gestured with his bottle. “You'll want to store your car in the barn. I'll keep the engine oiled and the battery charged.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“I should thank you. You've been an enormous help to me these last two weeks.”

“I was glad to do it.”

“Then why—no, I'm sorry. You have your reasons and I respect that.”

“I'm not leaving forever. I'll be back now and again.”

“Your mother would like that.”

Meryl set her bottle on the roof at her feet. Though the sky was awash in moonlight the brightest stars pierced the glare.

“Mother and I have been talking,” she said. “We've discussed my behavior of recent weeks and we both agree that it has been lacking in respect and civility.”

“I see,” Father said. “And have you decided on a course of action?”

“We have. In fact, Mother and I have reexamined my decision to terminate your employment, and we agree that it was rash and ill-considered.”

Father stared at the empty field beyond the back of the house. Only a tightening of his jaw muscles betrayed his emotions.

“The vote was unanimous,” she said. “We've determined that it is in the best interest of this family, especially of its most junior partner, to continue you in your former position.”

Meryl put her arms around her father's shoulders. His face was rough with stubble, and the kiss probably felt better to him than it did to her, but that was the point, wasn't it?

“You're rehired, Father,” she said.

Father blinked his eyes rapidly as he struggled against his tears and lost.

“You haven't done that since you were eleven,” he said.

“Really?” she said, and kissed his cheek again.

“Really. Time has no pity on fathers of daughters.”

“It has even less pity on certain daughters of certain fathers.” Meryl held him as if she might be swept away in a typhoon at any second. No matter what, her father would be there for her all his life.

“Getting late, honey,” he said.

“How many of those have you had?”

“A few.”

“Then I'm driving back.”

“Let's get your car into the barn.” Meryl finished her beer, Father finished his, and after her Meryllium Falcon was safely docked, Meryl guided the old jeep toward December. The touch of night air on her face was as intoxicating as a dozen cold Kuronekos.

Up in her room Meryl checked her luggage once more and was convinced she'd left nothing behind. She dressed for bed and looked out her window. The homestead lay on the desert like an uncovered jewel in the sand. A couple could make a real family there, just as her grandparents had.

Meryl lifted the envelope on her desk. Yesterday, nine months after she'd mailed it, her letter had arrived. Father had given it to her unopened.

“Nothing there I need to read anymore,” he'd said. “Old news anyway, right?”

Meryl fingered the dried and curling stamps. A careless coffee stain had blotted out half her parents' address, but some enterprising post handler a few stations down the line had gone to the trouble of reconstructing it in pencil. The envelope was yellow at the edges.

Old news. What words of wisdom did she have for the future?

Walk your own path with your head held high, that much she'd said. Advice Meryl had tried her best to live by, advice well intentioned, offered by a sweet old man in Promontory. An old man and his wife who'd let their son go to live his own life, convinced they'd done their best for him. Did they now live with the knowledge that their son might be a marked man, that he might be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life? Did they now stand at the door, waiting for him to return?

Meryl tore the envelope in two and didn't stop tearing until the letter was reduced to confetti.

“Old fool,” she said, “how can my parents live through me if I'm dead?” Meryl swept the fragments into her wastebasket and went to bed.

---

Author's Afterword

I hope this chapter was as much fun to read as it was to write. Thank you for sticking with me this far!

Next: The moment you've been waiting for…and one that Milly will dread. See you next time!