“If she has so much love for you, why are you crying?” He still pronounced “love” like a foreign word but the look he was giving her was one almost of concern.
“Because I miss her. And I know she’s probably looking everywhere for me. She’s probably frantic with worry and I…I’ll probably never see her again. ”
“It would hurt you that much to be forever separated from her?” He sounded curious.
“Of course it would!” Lauren blotted her eyes on his cloak and took a deep breath, trying to slow the tears. She knew from past experience that crying was a sure way to drive any man away and she wanted Xairn to stay. “I’m sorry, but wouldn’t you be upset if you were never going to see your father again? I mean, I know he’s really scary and weird but he’s still your dad. Right?”
Xairn looked away. “I feel nothing for him. And he feels nothing for me.”
“Oh.” Lauren bit her lip, uncertain what to say. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “It has always been so.”
“But don’t you…” Lauren hesitated, uncertain of how to phrase her question, afraid she might drive him away again. “Haven’t you ever had anyone love you? Or had anyone to love?” she asked at last.
“Once.” His deep voice was remote. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does matter,” Lauren said earnestly. “My mom always says that everyone just needs three things to be happy—something to do, something to look forward to, and someone to love.”
He laughed tonelessly. “Why would you think that happiness is a priority aboard the Fathership?”
“I guess it’s not.” Lauren twisted her fingers together. “But don’t you want to be happy?”
“I don’t want anything.” His voice sounded dead. “I merely exist.”
Lauren wanted to point out that “merely existing” was no way to live but she sensed this was no time to trade philosophy with him. If I want to keep him with me, I have to keep him interested. It made her think of Scheherazade, the heroine from The Arabian Nights, which she’d read as a little girl. Scheherazade had been married to a king who took a new wife every morning and killed her every night. But she told the king stories every night, stories that led into other stories and kept him too interested to kill her.
I have to be like that, Lauren told herself. I have to keep him interested.
She cleared her throat and smiled at Xairn. “Let me tell you something else about Earth. Have you ever heard of ice cream?”
* * * * *
Xairn listened to her speak, her soft, harmonious voice rising and falling as she told him about her world. She talked on and on, about the strange foods the humans ate and the soft white sands and warm waters of the beaches in the place where she lived. She talked about entertainments called movies and plays and explained that they read stories called “books” for pleasure.
The concept was foreign to Xairn. He knew how to read in two hundred different languages and dialects, including her own English, but the idea of reading something for anything other than information was a novelty to him.
Lauren answered his questions about books and then spoke about her childhood, growing up alone with only her mother for company. Much as Xain had had only his
father—the AllFather. But it soon became clear that their childhoods had nothing else in common. She spoke with love and tenderness about her mother, talked about how she had taken care of Lauren even in difficult circumstances. As far as he could tell there had been discipline, but nothing like the kind of punishments the AllFather could devise. Lauren had never known cruelty or hatred from the one who was supposed to love and care for her.
Xairn wondered why his heart throbbed while he listened. It was a weakness, he supposed—the same weakness that had caused him to come see her again, even though he had sworn not to. But still, he lingered and he listened, unable to pull himself away.
At last he realized the time. It was late—much later than he’d intended to stay. Already he had missed some crucial tasks for which he would doubtless be punished.
“I have to go.” He rose as he spoke and her eyes—lovely and golden in her light brown face—followed his movements.
“Do you have to?” Her voice was soft and pleading. “Can’t you stay a little while longer?”
Xairn shook his head. “I’ve already neglected several of my duties too long. I will probably be whipped—my father will order it done.”
“Oh no!” Lauren put a slim hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”