The Courier’s Collection

Chapter 15

15

AS JAK GOT CLOSER to home, the change in the air and the familiar terrain beneath his tuskin’s hooves filled him with nostalgia. The old way of life that his mother clung to was in evidence all around him. Everything fit together and belonged, including himself. Ebere had been quiet most of the journey, but now he seemed to want to talk.

“The grassy plains are yellow here. I like it. The way the ground meets the sky, making you feel small compared to the world around you.”

“It’s because we are small,” Jak said. His childhood home looked small too. Smaller than he remembered. Every time he returned it seemed a bit shabbier. The roof needed work. The door still squeaked on the hinges. He’d have to deal with that sometime.

The interior of the house was dark, just a thin ray of light streaming in from the kitchen window. But his mother’s room was bright. Someone had pulled back the window coverings to let the light in.

Jak dropped his pack at the door, and in just three long strides he reached his mother’s bedroom door. He opened without knocking, and she opened her eyes.

Jola Ostari had once been a beauty. Even as sick as she was now, lying in bed, wasting away to nothing, her high cheekbones and blue eyes drew you in.

“Mother, I’m here.” Jak knelt at her bedside and picked up her hand.

“Jak. My sweet boy.” Jola coughed for a long moment. “News of you travels far and wide. I heard about your new status, and your betrothal.”

Jak glanced back and saw Ebere had not followed him into the room. In fact, he’d quietly closed the door, giving them some privacy.

“Mother, I must tell you, everything is not as it appears.”

His mother reached out and took his hand.

“You can be whatever you want to be. I never meant to—” She stopped to cough again. Jak stood up and found her water on the bedside table. She drank it all and asked for more. Then drank half of the second one. When she’d caught her breath, her voice was raspy and weak. “I never meant for you to live the life of a wanderer. Only to prevent them from trying to control you the way they did your father.”

“Them?”

“His parents,” Jola said. She squeezed his hand hard enough to take him by surprise and pulled him closer. “About your father.”

“He’s not my father,” Jak said.

“Listen. You need to hear the truth. I loved your father, and he loved me too, once. It wasn’t what you were led to believe.”

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked.

“My stubborn pride.” She coughed for a half minute. “At first I was angry he’d chosen the council over me. Then when I got sick, I didn’t want him to come here. Better he remember me as I was.” She half laughed and coughed again.

“You’re beautiful, Mother, as always.” Jak rested his palm on her cheek.

She continued, “I knew I was dying. It wouldn’t have been fair. He’s a good man.”

Jak didn’t want to listen to any more of this. He must have rolled his eyes because she squeezed his hand even harder.

“Don’t punish him forever, the way I did. It was a mistake.”

Another painful coughing fit. When it eased, she dropped his hand and closed her eyes.

“So tired.”

“Yes, rest now,” he said. He adjusted her pillows and pulled the blanket up to her chin to stop her shivering. The water was low, and he left to refill the pitcher.

Jak found Ebere seated at the kitchen table scanning one of his devices.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. I’m fine. How is your mother?”

“She doesn’t have long,” Jak said. “I’m just glad I’m here.”

“Someone’s coming,” Ebere said, his head tilted and his eyes on the door.

Jak waited a moment, the glass pitcher still in his hand. The door swung open.

“Duna.”

“Jak.”

Duna walked in as if she lived there. She put the bag she was carrying on the table.

“What are you doing here?” Jak asked.

“What do you think? Someone had to be here for your mother. Took your time coming, didn’t you?” she said with a disapproving click of her tongue. She assembled the ingredients for a meal.

“I came as soon as I got word,” Jak filled the pitcher at the water pump.

“She hasn’t been well for some time, as you know.”

“I did.”

Duna’s pinched expression added nothing to her overall appearance. She’d pulled back her hair into a severe ponytail low on her neck. Her thin cheeks and hollowed eyes made her look as if her own life had been hard and long, much longer than the twenty-four rotations she’d lived.

He remembered how happy they’d been as children. Things should have ended there, but Jak’s lack of a father and Duna’s longing for a mother drew them together. He had thought himself in love with her, but now, as he watched her moving around the kitchen, he couldn’t remember why. They’d both changed so much over the last few rotations. They no longer resembled the boy and girl who’d carved their names into the tree between their ranches. Jak had so much he wanted to say to her, but there was only one thing that mattered.

“Our marriage is over,” Jak said.

“Yes, of course.” She pulled out the jeweled bracelet he’d given her and placed it in his hand.

Ebere looked from one to the other with wide eyes at their civil exchange.

“I wish you happy and safe,” she said.

“And you.” Jak slipped the bracelet into his pocket. He waited for her to go back to the stew she was preparing before he continued. “I can’t thank you enough for being here for my mother. If you should ever need anything, I’ll be there to help. No matter what.”

“Thank you, Jak.”