Chapter 9
Theo hovered in the kitchen doorway, his cheeks still pink from the cold and his eyes bright with an energy Talia hadn't seen in months. He’d run all the way back from Martha’s, afraid that Klaus would be gone, and he was ecstatic that he hadn’t left.
"Is he really staying? For seventy-three whole days?"
She glanced at Klaus, who stood near the table examining the heating unit he'd brought with the focused intensity he seemed to apply to everything. He looked up at Theo's question and inclined his head.
"The repairs require that duration."
"That's almost forever." Theo's grin was lopsided and tentative, like he wasn't quite sure he remembered how. "That's way past the Longest Night."
"I am unfamiliar with your calendar systems."
"It means you'll be here for a really long time.
" Theo shrugged off his outdoor coat, dropping it on the floor in typical fashion before catching her look and picking it back up.
"Can you eat our food? Aunt Talia makes really good stew.
Well, when we have meat. Tonight it's just vegetables but it's still good.
Better than Martha's. She puts in too many turnips. "
Klaus's expression didn't change—she was learning that his face remained carefully controlled most of the time—but something in his eyes softened fractionally.
"I am capable of consuming a wide variety of organic matter. Your nutritional offerings will be adequate."
"He means yes," she translated, fighting a smile. “Before we sit down, I need to talk to you for a moment, Theo.”
He cast a reluctant glance at Klaus but followed her obediently into the main room.
“Since Klaus will be staying with us for that long,” she said quietly, “I don’t think we can expect him to stay in the root cellar.”
“I reckon not.”
“Would it be all right with you if he stayed in your parents' room?"
It was the logical choice - it was the largest room with the biggest bed - but she knew how protective he was of what he considered their space. She’d been sleeping in the small room next to his since she’d arrived.
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Yeah. That’d be okay.”
She gave him a relieved smile but before she could thank him, Klaus appeared in the archway that separated the kitchen from the main room.
“That is not necessary. I can sleep anywhere.”
Apparently his hearing was much better than she’d realized. She darted a quick glance at Theo, but he was already shaking his head.
“Nah. You won’t fit in any of the other beds.”
Including mine, she thought, and immediately blushed.
“Now let’s eat,” Theo added. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving, sweetheart,” she laughed, following him back to the kitchen. Klaus was still standing in the archway, frowning.
“I do not wish-”
“It’s fine,” she said softly as Theo went to wash his hands. “It’s good that he’s moving on. And you’re helping him do that.”
She patted his arm, then went to start ladling stew into bowls. "Sit down, both of you."
Klaus followed Theo to the wash basin, washing his hands with the precision he applied to everything he did.
Does he ever relax? She'd seen him in pain, and seen him working with intense concentration, but she’d never seen him truly at ease. Maybe the Tandroki didn't do easy.
They settled at the table—Theo in his usual chair, her in hers, and Klaus in the seat that had belonged to Willem.
The one that had sat empty for months, a daily reminder of absence.
She shot a cautious glance at Theo, half-expecting him to object, but he was smiling.
She understood. Having it filled felt strange.
Not wrong, just... different. Like the house was adjusting to a new configuration
"It's hot," she warned as Klaus lifted his spoon. "Give it a minute."
He paused, studying the steam rising from his bowl, then set the spoon down with another precise movement. She wondered what he thought of their simple meal. Was it primitive by his standards? Was he accustomed to something far more sophisticated?
Theo had no such hesitation. He blew on his first spoonful with exaggerated effort, then slurped it down with satisfaction.
"Did you really crash your spaceship? Like, full speed into the ground?"
"Theo," she warned.
"What? I'm just asking." He looked at Klaus with open fascination. "Was it scary? Did alarms go off? Were there explosions?"
Klaus considered the question with the same seriousness he applied to everything else. "The impact was significant, and multiple systems failed simultaneously. The probability of survival was low."
"But you survived." Theo leaned forward. "Because you're really strong, right? Like superhero strong?"
"My physiology provided advantages. However, survival was also contingent on receiving assistance." His gaze shifted to her. "Without your aunt's intervention, the outcome would have been fatal."
Heat rushed to her cheeks and she focused on her bowl. "Anyone would have done the same."
"Unlikely. Most sentient species prioritize self-preservation. Your choice to render aid was statistically anomalous."
"She's always helping people." Theo spoke through a mouthful of stew. "Even when they're mean to her. Mrs. Johanson said Aunt Talia's too soft for frontier life. That she should have stayed in the city where people are civilized."
"Mrs. Johanson should mind her own business," she said sharply, then took a breath, forcing herself to relax. "And don't talk with your mouth full."
But Klaus was watching her with that penetrating focus that made her feel simultaneously seen and exposed. "This Mrs. Johanson is incorrect in her assessment."
"Is she?" She managed a tight smile. "Because I'm not exactly thriving out here. The house needs repairs I can't afford, half of our crops failed, and I'm about to trade away food we need because I don't have anything else of value."
"You preserved my life. You demonstrate consistent resourcefulness. You adapt to circumstances that would overwhelm individuals with far more resources." He took his first spoonful of stew, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed before continuing. "These are not indicators of inadequacy."
Something in her chest loosened. She hadn't realized how much Mrs. Johanson's words had burrowed under her skin and how much she'd started to believe them during the long, struggling months.
"The food is quite acceptable," he added. "The vegetable matter is prepared with appropriate attention to texture and temperature variance."
Theo giggled. "I think that means it's good."
"I stated it was acceptable."
"That's what I said. Good." Theo took another enthusiastic bite. "At home—I mean, before—Mama used to make stew with rabbit. And sometimes venison when Papa got lucky hunting. This is different but it's still nice."
The casual mention of his parents made her throat tighten. Theo so rarely spoke about them directly, usually dancing around the absence with careful pronouns and vague references. Hearing him say Mama and Papa out loud felt like progress and heartbreak in equal measure.
Klaus didn't react with the awkward sympathy most adults offered. He simply nodded. "Meat protein would enhance the nutritional profile. However, the current preparation is sufficient for maintaining health."
"We'll have meat again soon," she said, trying to inject confidence into the words. "After market day. Once I have something to trade."
Those blue eyes focused on her with uncomfortable intensity. "Your current food stores are inadequate?"
"They’re fine."
"The probability of that statement's accuracy is low."
Damnit. She couldn't even lie convincingly to an alien. "We have enough to get through winter. It's just tight, that's all. Everyone's tight this time of year."
"But you are tighter than most." It wasn't a question. He took another spoonful of stew, his gaze never leaving her face. "Your decision to provide me shelter has depleted your resources."
"That's not… I didn't…" She stopped and gathered herself. "You needed help. I'm not going to apologize for that."
"I am not requesting an apology. I am stating an observation." He set down his spoon with deliberate care. "I have resources that may prove beneficial. It would be logical to establish an equitable exchange."
Pride warred with practicality, but pride was a luxury she couldn't afford, not with Theo depending on her and supplies running low.
"What kind of resources?"
"I have portable nutrition supplements designed for extended missions. They are nutritionally complete though aesthetically uninteresting. Additionally, I can provide labor. Your structure requires repairs that are within my capability to execute."
Theo perked up. "Can you fix the shutter that bangs at night? It's really loud and Aunt Talia can't reach it even with the ladder."
"The identification and rectification of structural maintenance issues is a standard military competency. Yes."
"And there's a loose board on the porch that's all wobbly. And the door to the cellar doesn't close right anymore. And—"
"Theo." She held up a hand. "We're not going to give Klaus a list of chores on his first day out of bed."
"Why not? He offered." Theo looked at Klaus for confirmation. "You did offer, right?"
"Correct. The proposal stands."
They finished the meal in relative quiet, Theo chattering occasionally about the day's events at Martha's, how her cat had caught a mouse, how her youngest son had fallen in the creek and had to be fished out soaking wet.
Klaus listened with apparent attention, asking occasional clarifying questions that sent Theo into elaborate explanations.
She found herself relaxing incrementally, the tight knot of anxiety that had taken up permanent residence in her stomach loosening just slightly. The house felt warmer with three people in it. Fuller. Almost like a family, though she pushed that thought away as soon as it formed.