Epilogue
Robin
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Three Months Later
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The air smells like fresh lettuce and sun-warmed tomatoes.
For the first time in my memory, the tables at the Andromeda Valley farmers market are overflowing with produce. The people behind the tables are smiling. No one seems to know why this season is so different, and Nita Healy has made sure that it stays that way. At least for a while.
Tater Tot tugs against the leash, wanting a closer sniff. I pull her back on track, and she only grumbles a little. She trusts me now, though. She lets me determine our course, and, despite the allure of freshly baked bread, she mostly follows my directions.
Na’Ren walks at my side, his fingers laced with mine.
“What new food do you want to try this week?” I ask him.
We have found that he likes most things we have tried together, but the biggest hit has been the raspberries from the wild tangle by our barn. The bush hasn’t stopped producing since the Andromedan ship first crashed in our field. Na’Ren starts each morning, collecting a dish of them. He eats them with cream.
He pauses in the aisle, surveying the offerings. We let the sea of people split around us, flowing on by without a second glance. Stella, who runs the little diner in town, made sure everyone knew I had a boyfriend within ten minutes of my first date with Na’Ren. We were local celebrities for about a week. Now, we’re just people, going about our day.
Na’Ren narrows his eyes at a sign. “What is a gooseberry?”
I grin. “Great choice. I’ll bake you a pie,” I say, ignoring my lover’s baffled look.
At the next table, Healy is brandishing a gleaming purple vegetable at Na’Ren’s first officer.
“No,” Ja’Lin says firmly, his arms crossed over his chest, “I dislike eggplant.”
Healy grins wickedly. “That’s because you haven’t had my eggplant,” he says, “Robin is a lousy cook.”
“Hey,” I protest, but Na’Ren runs a soothing hand down my back, and I forget that I was ever mad.
Healy exchanges money with the farmer and fills a paper sack with vegetables. “We’ve already talked about this. Be a good patient, and listen to your doctor.”
Ja’Lin scowls, but he accepts the bag when Healy hands it to him. He cradles the produce gently in his thick arms and the two of them disappear back into the crowd. I know Healy loaded a couple more of Na’Ren’s crew members into his van for market day, and I hope that he’s keeping an eye on them. Not all of them are quite as...socialized yet.
I pay a farmer for a quart of gooseberries, and nab up some zucchini and green peppers while I’m at it. Then I follow Na’Ren through the aisles until he has satisfied his weekly curiosity. All season, he’s treated the farmers market like a changing natural landscape and he examines it with an explorer’s eye. I know that when we get back to the house, he will take diligent notes in his logbook. He keeps it on our nightstand, often waking two or three times a night to record new thoughts. Last night, he noted the number of bats that swooped by our window, chasing moths.
We wind our way back to the truck, and I slide behind the wheel. Healy has started teaching Ja’Lin to drive, and I want to get home before they’re a threat on the road.
Na’Ren slips in beside me. His hand comes to rest in its usual place on my thigh. He squeezes.
“Thank you, my bird,” he says, just like he does every Saturday.
I reach into the paper sack on the seat between us, retrieve a gooseberry, and hold it out to him. He eyes it for a moment, and then he parts his lips. I slip the berry inside.
When he bites down on it, I hear the crisp pop . Quickly, his lips pucker against the sour taste. He chews, swallows, and looks me in the eye.
“Another, please,” he says.
I knew he would like them.
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into the driveway, the quart already half gone. Maybe I’ll get enough next weekend for a pie.
The truck has barely slowed to a stop when I see Julian jogging down the driveway toward us. He’s waving his arms, and my first thought is that something happened to Dad. But then I see him out in the field, a shovel resting on his shoulder as he looks out over their latest trench.
“You should come see this,” Julian says, out of breath, his face pink from digging and the late-July sun.
Na’Ren and I follow him out to the field. Dad smiles when he sees us. He gestures into the pit.
“It is the most remarkable thing,” he says. He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I postulate that the object is of ceremonial origin.”
I lean over the trench—and jerk back quickly.
Dad has been finding small artifacts for my entire life. Objects from daily Andromedan life. Pieces of equipment. Amazing, of course, but nothing that’s too large to fit on a shelf in our closet.
This is different.
A gleaming black spire juts out from the damp soil. Dad and Julian have excavated at least three feet of it, from tapered tip to the eight-inch-wide base that disappears beneath the dirt. I don’t know what kind of ceremony their picturing, but I stare in awe.
“Captain,” Julian asks Na’Ren, “do you know what we’re looking at here?”
Na’Ren considers the spire. “The material is undeniably Andromedan. But as to its purpose...” He trails off, shaking his head.
Julian drags a hand through his hair, the brown bangs falling forward again and slipping behind the frames of his glasses.
“Robin,” he says, “can you call Nita for me? She won’t answer anymore if she sees my number. Or your dad’s.”
I nod, unable to stifle my laugh. Beside me, Na’Ren begins a careful clamber down into the trench. I watch his tall, muscled body as he goes, every inch the explorer I love.
I’ll go in the house in a minute and call the sheriff. She’ll come out, maybe bring Healy with her. It will be a whole thing .
But, not quite yet. For now, I want to stand in the sun for a moment, breathing in the greenery. I want to watch my lover, surrounded by the family we have built for ourselves. It’s never boring in Andromeda Valley, but it’s the quiet moments in between that make it home.
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The End