Chapter 10
Robin
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I’m still reeling from Na’Ren’s whole I am bound to you thing, if I’m being totally honest with myself.
Now Nita Healy, my best friend’s big sister who once got me in trouble for skipping social studies, is standing in my kitchen, shaking hands with my...my lover , who also happens to be an alien, and she is welcoming him to Earth .
Plus my dad’s standing there. And I just had sex in the honey shack half an hour ago. He has absolutely no way to know that, but the proximity is still incredibly uncomfortable.
Nita lets go of Na’Ren’s hand, and hers go to her hips. “And here we all thought it was a joke,” she says with zero traces of humor. “Turns out, the whole damn thing was real.”
Julian shakes his head. “Real? So all of these artifacts that Professor Hart and I keep finding—those are legitimate?”
Nita, who has had to shoo Julian off of private property more than once when he was “exploring,” just shakes her head. “Jules, don’t push me right now.”
He holds up his hands defensively.
Nita sighs. “I can tell you what I know, which isn’t much.”
Healy cuts in. “The crash from a hundred years ago really happened.”
His sister casts an aggravated look in his direction.
“Something like that, anyway,” she concedes. “We all...get a book. An old journal. The mayor makes us wear white gloves to handle it, the poor thing is on the verge of disintegrating. It’s a record from the night of the crash.”
My eyebrows twitch upward and she shrugs.
“I know,” Nita says, “I always thought it was, you know, Andromeda Valley’s whole kitschy tourist thing, right? Gotta have something to stimulate the economy because we all know it’s not our bustling agricultural production.”
“Yeah, about that,” Healy says. He gestures toward the door. “Why don’t we all go outside and take a look.”
Nita waves for us to follow.
Outside, all around the barn, the grass is lush and green. Bees and butterflies drift between the stalks, a monarch dipping down to sample a blooming milkweed. At the corner of the barn, a raspberry bush grows, wild and tangled and exuberant.
The land hasn’t looked like this...well, ever . Not in my memory. And based on the way my Dad rushes to the raspberry push, he’s never seen it like this either.
“All these years,” he whispers tenderly to the soft, red berries just beginning to swell, “and all you needed was a little company.” He turns an appraising eye to Na’Ren. “Phosphorus?” he asks.
“Nitrogen,” another Andromedan answers, the one Na’Ren had called Ja’Lin. “During respiration, our cells exhale nitrogen. It is not dissimilar from Terran botanical respiration.
“Ah, yes,” Dad says, like that made perfect sense. Like he had suspected it all along.
Nita joins the group.
“The old journal,” she continues, “belonged to someone who used to live in Andromeda Valley, though their identity has been lost to time. The entry talks about the shooting star that night. Sometimes the writer called it a meteor. They write about the crash and...and the beings who exited the spacecraft.” She looks at Na’Ren. “It seems your people have been here for a long time, almost a hundred years. Some sort of technology allowed you to pass for human.”
“Cloaking devices,” Na’Ren says at the same time as my dad. They glance at each other and then back at the sheriff.
“Sure,” Nita agrees, “cloaking devices. Your people have blended peacefully with ours for nearly a century. Intermarrying, your children playing alongside ours. I see no reason that this new arrival should be cause for alarm.” When she puffs out her cheeks and lets out a long gust of air, she reminds me so much of Healy that I almost laugh. Then she adds, “Other than the obvious alarm of learning that all of this is real, that is.”
Na’Ren inclines his head. “I assure you, we were just as alarmed as you are.”
Nita evaluates him with narrowed eyes for a moment. Then she shakes her head.
“Captain, how do you wish to proceed?”
Na’Ren pauses, his face close to the thick, red berries, and he stands up again. His back is straight, his shoulders square, and he looks every inch the leader that he is.
“Does your historical record indicate the presence of a beacon? Something called my ship here when its propulsion system failed.”
Nita frowns and shakes her head. “Sorry. But I’ll grant you full access to all of our records if it will help.”
Na’Ren nods acceptance. “That would be most generous.” He glances around at the members of his crew.
“Our ship has failed. We are...bound to Earth.” His eyes drift over to me, and I have to fight back the blush. “My primary concern is the safety of my crew.”
Around us, dozens of Andromedans mill about. Some listen intently to the conversation. Some examine the plant growth. One, off to the side, lifts and lowers the lever on an old water pump. Splash. Stop. Splash. Stop.
“I understand,” Nita says, and she turns to me.
Before she can say anything else, I offer, “We have the barn.”
Na’Ren turns to me. My face burns, and I want to tell him that he might be able to sleep somewhere else if he wants to, but this doesn’t feel like the time. Instead, I look back to Nita.
“They have their ship,” I say, “but we can fix up the barn, too, and make it habitable. And the farmhouse is huge.”
“Yes!” My dad joins us, his smile beaming. “Whatever our new friends need. Why, I’m sure Julian would be willing to offer a room or two. And the Galileans—”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Nita says, “no way. Those crackpo—those lovely gentlemen probably are best left out of the loop, at least for a while. In fact, today’s events do not leave this circle, does everyone understand? But...” She sighs. “I trust you, Professor, to make sure our newest residents are comfortable.”
“Most excellent,” Dad says.
Nita shakes her head. “You all just made my job a lot harder.”
Dad looks down at the Andromedan toy in Na’Ren’s hand, and then a soft smile passes over his face.
“Captain, that belonged to my wife,” he says.
My heart kicks inside my chest.
Na’Ren holds it up. “Your wife?” he asks. “And the rest of the artifacts in your archive?”
My dad smiles. “Only this one. The rest I’ve found in the fields. But this one, she brought with her when we married. Robin played with it when he was very young.”
Na’Ren looks up at me.
I can’t speak. I can’t feel my hands. But then Na’Ren’s voice spills into my mind like cool, clear water.
This is why we are able to speak like this , he says.
And I can’t help it. Despite my shock, despite my lack of sleep, I smile at him. He smiles back, the sharp angles of his face softening with the expression. Something unfurls inside me, and I remember Na’Ren in the honey shack, telling me, The intensity will pass. And what is left will either be nothing—or it will be everything .
I think it might be everything.
Dad glances between us, and then back at the toy.
“I think,” he says, his eyes straying to Julian, “that childbirth is very difficult for Andromedan women on Earth. Something about the air. I’m sorry, Robin, that I never told you. I couldn’t. It was too painful to relive the loss of her.”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
I’m not angry at him. How could I be? I will tell him later, when I’ve collected myself. For now, I just need to manage not to break down in tears.
That belonged to my wife . She brought it with her when we married .
I know so little about my mom. She died when I was a baby, and Dad never talks about her. I guess I know why, now.
Na’Ren and Ja’Lin join me while my dad walks Nita back to her cruiser.
“That answers some lingering questions,” Ja’Lin says, and I get the feeling that he would rather be snarling at me.
But he looks...less vicious now. And it’s not just because I’m more used to the Andromedans now. He looks paler, more tired.
“I cannot say that I appreciate being exiled to the... barn ,” he says.
Then he squeezes his eyes closed and draws in a breath that sounds pained.
“You are, of course, welcome to remain in your quarters on the ship,” Na’Ren says, not noticing his first officer’s state.
“Ren,” I say.
But I’m too late. Ja’Lin’s strength gives out. His knees bend, and then he’s dropping toward the ground.
“Ja’Lin!”
Na’Ren reaches for him, but Healy is faster, already catching Ja’Lin and straining to hold up the Andromedan’s weight.
“Little help,” he groans, his wide eyes betraying his concern.