Chapter Twenty-One #2
Her face drops at the news, but she shoos Zeke a seat over while coming to sit next to me, cupping my hand.
She lifts her finger across my hairline to tuck my hair behind my ear, sending my heart fluttering at her touch.
I have always been a sucker for mothers.
Not having grown up with one myself, I contrived fantasies about how my mother was a princess, how she had somehow been kept away from me, and we were tragically forced apart through cruel twists of fate.
The fairy tale hid the resentment at how this imaginary mother had abandoned me, at her failure to find me, and all the while, I can only imagine it broke my fathers’ hearts every time I questioned her.
So, I chose to revel in other mothers’ company, absorbing as much of their tenderness as possible.
If I ever needed a pick-me-up, I only had to pay a visit to Kris or Ren’s mothers on the farm.
But as I grew older, the realisation of how lucky I was to have my fathers outweighed what I thought I was missing.
But even now, as a grown woman, I still love other people’s moms.
She gives a little laugh as she boings my curls. “Fiery hair. I bet you have a temper to boot.”
I shrug humbly, only for the boys to rat me out: “Yeah, she does!”
I shake my head. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
She laughs again. “Well, I hope you’re looking after my boys out there.”
“Absolutely. We all look after each other.”
“Good, ’cause they’re not as tough as they pretend to be.
” She gets up from the table, stepping over to Atlas, propped against the fridge.
“Especially my little boy.” She takes his hand.
“You’re looking thin. Are you looking after yourself?
” He nods with his head hung low. “And Miko? No more news on Miko?”
His sorrowful eyes lift as he shakes his head.
“Well, I have hope, Atlas. You’ll find her.
She’s waiting for you.” Her petite self reaches up on her tiptoes, gently kissing his cheek.
“Right. That’s it for me. I’ll get your beds ready.
Atlas, you’re in charge of supper. Look after your friends.
Good night, boys,” she says before turning back. “And good night, Lee.”
Still buzzing from my encounter with Mama Cooper, I take the opportunity to explore a few hazy topics, trying to suppress my smirk as I ask.
“So… Leon. If your dad was the Cali King … does it mean that, this whole time, I’ve been in the presence of a prince?”
The guys laugh, causing Leon to roll his eyes. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious. But yeah. I was in the running to head the club, but I turned it down.”
“But why? You guys are like rock stars around here.”
“It’s complicated. My dad helped relocate all the charters when he got back from the Lost War, securing our future with the other founding members of the club, Atlas’s dad and Zeke’s uncle.
They struck a deal with the government. We farm and produce biodiesel, exclusively supplying the rangers and the cities. ”
My nostrils flare, but he waves his hand to calm me.
“In return, within our land, our rules were our law. But … they kept hustling us, moving the goalposts and changing the rules. Then the Mutiny War came, and we thought it would all change, but when President Beckett waltzed in—pfft, what a piece of work! With the loss of my dad, it just wasn’t the same club anymore, and I was too young to lead.
We went nomad, took up bounty work, staying with the club, but away from it.
The change would not happen within these walls.
So, we’re just waiting in the wings, listening for whispers of rebellion.
” A glint of wonder creeps onto his face as he rubs his palms together.
Atlas, who has been scooping out the food, joins us at the table and slides the bowls before us.
“A rebellion, huh?” I say, stirring the steaming food, with the singe of spice rising from the dish brimming with a rainbow of vegetables and beans. “I remember hearing about efforts in the South before I went on my interval… Did anything ever come of it?”
“There was something in the South, but when we got down there … nothing,” Atlas mumbles through a mouthful of chili, with steam piping from his fireproof mouth as he braves a second spoonful.
I look down at the table, my heart deflating with the hope of my fathers having made progress on their plans. After three years, I expected my absence would have put them on the cusp of a revolution, but it seems their efforts have amounted to nothing.
“There’s those guys out west,” Zeke offers.
I stare into my chili, my mind foggy with thoughts of my fathers, wondering if they are even alive.
Leon says, “Yeah, they sound pretty legit, but it’s impossible to get any information about them. Plus, I’ve heard some horror stories about the guy leading it.” He blows on his spoonful before eating.
Zeke’s words finally filter into my delayed mind. “West? Where are they in the west?” They shrug. “Guys? We’re heading west…” My face lights up as I grow hopeful for a connection.
“You think a rebellion and the employer … that there’s a link?” Leon asks, sounding uncertain.
I’m stumped, unable to explain the connection without exposing too much of myself. But maybe I can? I drop my spoon into the bowl, taking a deep breath. “My fathers… They have been a part of a rebellion since I was a baby.”
They all stop chewing, dropping their spoons into their own bowls, and Leon leans on the table. “Your fathers? I thought you were farmers.”
“Well, we were. But when I left, they were contributing to the revolution. Since we left the city, it’s surprising to hear you say they didn’t make it.
If that rebellion had been discovered… We’re talking massive trials and public executions.
President Beckett would have made an example of the leaders for sure. ”
“Well, what are you saying?” Atlas asks.
“That Southern movement… What if they moved?”
Leon’s eyes glisten as the idea catches, and they delve into the rumours they have heard about this western rebellion.
The tart tang of the sauce tingles my tongue while I devour the bowl with brief breaks for breath.
The heat of the meal rekindled my appetite for food, and I can’t remember the last time I ate like that.
Atlas ladles me another bowlful with a curl of his lip, causing me to blush at my blatant gluttony.
After finishing, Leon and Zeke leave to collect our saddlebags from the bikes, while I help clear the table with Atlas, and he dries the dishes as I wash them.
When we’re in each other’s company, I wouldn’t call us friends, but it is …
comfortable. We clean silently, so I take our alone time as an opportunity to ask a lingering question.
“Atlas, can I ask—”
“You want to know who Miko is?” His brows raise with a disapproving side-eye.
I nod nervously, hoping I haven’t overstepped my bounds, since he has a jack-in-the-box quality about him, sending my shoulders tight when I venture further than small talk.
“Miko… The awesome Yumiko.” He smirks. “We met when we were kids, and I always had a sweet spot for her. When she returned from her Independence Interval, she was different. Like it had changed her…” He pauses, holding a bowl still as he looks down at it.
“I wanted to make her happy again, and she got there with time. We got married and had a little home like this one. I was so sure she would be safe while I was away. Anyway … she was taken.” And he stacks the last dish.
My hands hover over the sink as I hang on every word. I’m half shocked at the revelation, and at the fact that he ends the explanation there.
“Taken by who?!”
“I believe a guy in another charter had something to do with it, offering her to the government. He was the only witness and said she left for an R&R facility, but that’s not true. She wouldn’t have.”
I take a second, trying to rationalise why the government would do this, especially if she had already served her time on an interval. “As punishment? Because you were in the Mutiny War?”
He turns to me with his round, glassy eyes as he looks down. “No. Because she was pregnant. We were going to have a girl.”