Meredith tossed the kitchen towel
over her shoulder and leaned against the doorway, watching Jillie jump from
chair to chair around the table. Jillie loved their new home’s low gravity.
Simon sat on the couch, back straight, hands on his knees, rubbing them slowly
back and forth. Meredith dropped her head to the side, letting her hair fall
down, knowing it would catch his attention. When his eyes snapped toward her,
she smiled and blew him a kiss. He relaxed, marginally, but his eyes flickered
back to Jillie’s pre-bedtime antics.
Meredith knew he was thinking of
children in the mine fields. She scanned his pulse and breathing. Elevated.
Shallow. But acceptable. She didn’t want Jillie to push him too far though.
“Okay, my little monkey. Bound over here for a goodnight hug,” she called to
Jillie.
Their beautiful, impossible
daughter pushed off the closest chair and launched across the room into
Meredith’s arms. Their heads dropped together, long black hair mingling with long
blond curls. Hari curls, if Jillie followed in her footsteps, Meredith thought,
then pushed the idea away. She left the Hari willingly for Simon. He would
never accept that life for Jillie.
“Okay, monkey. Go give Daddy a
special Daddy-hug,” Meredith said, sliding Jillie down to stand on the floor.
Jillie turned to Simon and held her arms wide open, palms flat. She took slow,
sliding steps, watching Simon as carefully as Meredith did. If he stiffened up,
she would stop. But he stayed calm – for him – on the couch, and held out his
hands, palms to the sides to match Jillie’s when she reached him. They clasped
hands, and Jillie pushed against his, leaning with all her might into their
special open hug.
Meredith had figured it out after
they left the Hari. Simon couldn’t tolerate any constriction, nor any light
touch. Nothing the Hari had used to seduce him, to break him, to compel him to
give up the information they wanted. She
couldn’t hug him, or run her fingers playfully over his skin. Face to face, palm
to palm, he could relax enough to accept her body against his.
He had found comfort in her round
belly, lying perpendicular to her, with his ear resting against her skin. He
said he could hear the baby’s heartbeat, and it soothed him. He slept.
When Jillie was born, Simon
cried. He couldn’t hold her without triggering the nightmare memories. Meredith
wrapped her tightly in a blanket and when Jillie slept, lay her on Simon’s
chest. “Now she hears your heartbeat. Let her know it,” she soothed him. He slept.
Meredith slid slowly away from
the doorway. “Okay, monkey. Off to bed with you. Come, I’ll throw you up the
stairs.”
Jillie blew kisses to Simon, who
almost didn’t flinch as her hands fluttered toward him. He tried so hard.
Jillie ran around the couch to Meredith, who grabber around her waist and
pitched her up the stairs. Jillie giggled as she floated down to the top
landing. “Goodnight, Mama,” she called as she climbed into bed.
Meredith tapped the wall panel
for the night sky view. Upstairs and down, the lights dimmed, and the ceilings
disappeared, revealing open starry skies. The effects were seamless, worth
every Hari-credit Meredith had spent. Jillie fell asleep every night watching
for shooting stars. And Simon slept more easily under the open sky, even though
he knew it was illusion.
|
Dogs in house
|
Houdini
|
|
|
|
|
Music
|
Mediaeval Baebes
|
|
|
|
|
Time writing
|
40 minutes
|
|
|
|
|
January word
count
|
14,824
|
No comments:
Post a Comment