Chapter 44 Arbiter
Chapter forty-four
Arbiter
Bear River Junction, Utah, the Pacifica Confederation, the next morning
“Do that again,” Tamsin Redfern said with a seductive grin, her dark brown eyes taunting her bed partner.
“What? This?” Saylor’s teasing fingers sent ripples of pleasure through Tamsin.
The curly-haired blonde’s blue eyes melted Tamsin’s resistance.
Not that she had put up much. “Oh, God, yes,” she moaned.
Cupping a hand behind Saylor’s neck, she pulled her down and ravaged her mouth.
Then she rolled, claiming the high ground, still pulsing with her partner.
Tamsin’s long, black hair cascaded over her shoulder, splashing onto Saylor’s bare breasts. They were perfect.
“Then you’re really going to like this.” Saylor’s tongue slid down Tamsin’s throat, between her breasts, glazing over her belly, slow and deliberate, igniting anticipation. Tamsin gasped for air, arched her back.
A loud knock hit on the front door. “Salt and ruin!” Tamsin cursed. “Not now.”
“Let it drift,” Saylor bade and locked her hands around her waist. The knock sounded again, louder.
“Break me,” Tamsin muttered, pulling free of her. “I have to see who it is.” She rolled out of bed and threw on a robe over her rich brown skin, still damp with sweat.
“You don’t have to,” Saylor snapped in frustration, yanking the sheet over herself.
Tamsin tied the robe sash and left the bedroom. “I’m coming!” she called. “Be right back,” she promised Saylor.
“Sure, you will,” her girlfriend pouted. Being interrupted was no fun for Tamsin either, but, if it weren’t important, no one would be pounding on her door at dawn.
A striped cat missing an eye fell into step, trotting beside her through the house like a personal bodyguard, ears perked, tail jutting up like a flagpole.
Her house was like the rest of Bear River Junction—built to endure.
It stood low and solid against the wind, its concrete walls holding the day’s warmth, narrow windows giving little away.
Inside, an eclectic mix of artwork reflected Tamsin’s East Asian and African descent—a painted paper fan, a watercolor of a jazz saxophone player, a meticulously kept bonsai tree, and an Afrofuturism painting of a Black, blindfolded Lady Justice holding the scales, with planets and moons spinning behind her.
She inherited her mother’s hair and her father’s height. Everything else fell somewhere between.
The cat rubbed her legs as she opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Yes?”
“Ms. Tamsin Redfern?” A lad in a messenger’s uniform three sizes too big, peered at her through thick, round glasses. He held a manila envelope bearing the familiar government seal of three jagged mountain peaks and the motto Together Unbroken.
“Yes, that’s me.” Tamsin smoothed her hair behind an ear lined with tiny hoops and studs.
“Special delivery for you from Chairman Redfern’s office.” He passed her the letter, wiped his nose, and rocked from foot to foot.
“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin. “I have nothing to tip you. Not up yet. Not dressed. If you come back later …”
His cheeks reddened, and his gaze dropped to his shoes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The early air was chilly against Tamsin’s moist skin. “That’s OK. I’d better run. Have a good day, ma’am.”
Tamsin closed the door, opening the envelope as she and the lanky, one-eyed cat padded back to the bedroom.
“I see that seal,” Saylor grumbled. She had gotten dressed and was putting on her shoes as she scowled at Tamsin from across the cozy bedroom. Musk still hung in the air, a reminder of the moment cut short.
Tamsin glanced over the official orders from the chairman of the Pacific Council, the head of Pacifica’s confederate government, her father. “Sorry, babe. Duty calls, and I have to go.”
“Of course you do.” Saylor yanked her shoelaces tight. “It seems you can mediate everyone’s problems except your own.”
“That’s not fair,” Tamsin said. “My job—”
“Is the only love in your life.” Saylor shot off the side of the bed, snatched her jacket from the trunk. “Where to this time? Some bigwigs arguing over fishing rights? Are Washington and Idaho squabbling again? Or does Daddy need you to save one of the governor’s marriages?”
Tamsin leaned in the doorway, waiting patiently while Saylor vented. She calmly answered, “I’m off to Olive Branch to mediate a summit meeting between our four neighboring nations who’ve been involved in some kind of armed conflict.”
“Where?” Saylor took a step closer, her peachy face drawn up in confusion. “I never heard of such a place.”
“It’s an independent city in the borderlands between the Mother River and the Burnt Plains.” Tamsin neatly folded the paper and slid it back into the envelope.
“That’s absurd,” Saylor scoffed.
Tamsin pulled a travel bag from her closet and set it on the bed. “It’s a long way, so I need to get going right now.”
“Tell him no, Tam,” Saylor demanded, slamming the bag shut.
Her face twisted, fear and anger mixing.
“There are plenty of arguments to settle here without running across that … do you know what’s out there?
Giant scorpions, bandits, cutthroats, barren deserts where the wind blows constantly, and mutants. Mutants, Tam!”
“I’ll take the train to where the line ends and a balloon from there.” She stepped into the bathroom, turned on the water, and squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush. “I’ll never set foot in the Burnt Plains.”
“Well, don’t expect me to be here waiting for you when you get back—do you hear? This is why you’ll never have a functioning relationship—not with me, at least. I mean, you’re heavenly gorgeous, smart as a whip, and fun when you aren’t working. The problem is you’re always working.”
Tamsin brushed her teeth without argument. After rinsing, she flossed.
Saylor’s face reddened as her temper rose.
“You never think about how your job affects the people in your life. You drop us at a moment’s notice, like we’re disposable.
For someone who’s always pointing out how others need to compromise, you’re unwilling to compromise on a single thing in your own relationships. ”
Tamsin moved from the sink to her closet, choosing practical clothes for traveling and something more formal for negotiating. Conservative, but feminine. Authoritative, professional, without appearing rigid. She carried them to the bed.
“Are you even listening to me?” Saylor fumed.
Tamsin took a deep breath and laid the clothes over her bag.
She wasn’t in love with Saylor and hadn’t been with anyone, as far as she could tell.
But she liked her. Saylor was sexy, fun, and full of energy.
They shared enough common interests to be compatible and were different enough to keep things interesting.
But she just didn’t understand. She never had.
“I’m listening, sweetie,” she answered, meeting Saylor’s denim-blue eyes.
“And I know how you feel. But being a peacemaker isn’t just what I do.
It’s who I am. My father is the Chairman.
He was governor before that. I have a duty—a responsibility to go where I’m needed.
Beyond that, this is my calling. I care about you, even when you think I don’t.
If you don’t want to wait a week for me, that’s your decision. But I’m going.”
“It’s not just a week, Tam,” Saylor said, her tone softening from anger to hurt.
“It’s all the time. We can barely get through dinner without you rushing off to the next crisis.
I have an important job too. My own plumbing business.
You don’t see me running out during a play or concert, or packing up in the middle of the night to race to unclog someone’s toilet. I make time for you, for us.”
Tamsin folded her clothes, resigned to where this would end.
“Saylor, you think I take you for granted—that I always put work first. I go when and where I’m needed, but not because you mean nothing to me; you do.
If a customer has to wait until morning, nobody dies.
If I’m late, a war could break out. I won’t apologize for making duty a priority.
But I am sorry if it makes you feel unseen.
It’s who I am, Saylor, and I won’t change. You knew that.”
Saylor crossed her arms and glowered. “I figured you’d say something like that. I’m the one who’s sorry—I really am—but I can’t live this way. Good luck finding someone who can.”
Saylor, with her cute, bouncy golden curls, strode from the room. She didn’t look back. The front door closed hard, and the cat jumped onto the bed. “Well, Sam,” Tamsin said, rubbing her pet’s head. “I’ll have to find someone else to look after you while I’m gone.”
Sam squeezed his one good eye shut and leaned into Tamsin’s hand, purring his contentment.
“You understand, don’t you?” She picked up Sam, pulled him to her chest, and kissed his head.
Ten minutes later, Tamsin locked her front door, dressed in practical slacks and a leather jacket, carrying a soft-sided suitcase in one hand and a full cat carrier in the other.
A newspaper boy rode by on his bicycle, tossing papers into doorways.
Horse-drawn wagons shared the road with silent electric autos as the town awoke.
Only a few blocks from the Capitol Building, she opted to walk. It would give her a moment to settle.
Solar panels lined rooftops. Ornamental trees lined the walkways.
From somewhere, a rooster crowed. Sunlight winked from between building shadows.
“Good morning, Ms. Redfern,” greeted an old woman walking her little dog.
It barked at Sam, who hissed in reply. “You’re out early.
Heading off on a mission?” She glanced at Tamsin’s bag.
“Good morning to you too, Mrs. Westland. Morning, Toto. Duty calls.”