Two
Lana Barrington
No matter what has happened. No matter what you have done. No matter what you will do. I will always love you. I swear it.
—Defiance, C. J. Redwine
He turns towards me. In the firelight he is impossibly chiseled, his eyes light and piercing, a hint of mystery about the corners of his mouth. We are on the first leg of our honeymoon, in the middle of the desert. Blake hired an old-fashioned camel caravan because he wanted us to mimic the ancient journeys of the silk road.
I stare at his beauty, memorizing it for the days when we will be old, feeble and sitting on a swing waiting for our grandchildren to come around, and they will be many.
‘I want another child,’ I tell him.
He reaches for me, his eyes suddenly dark and unfathomable. ‘Not yet, Lana. We will have them, as many as you desire, boys and girls, but for a little while let me have you and Sorab to myself. I have never been so happy. Just for a year I wish for nothing more than only the three of us. Our little family.’
I smile at him. ‘One year?’
He nods, as hopeful as a child.
I laugh. ‘OK.’
He pours tequila into two glasses. Shakes salt on the sides of our fists. It is strange drinking tequila in the desert. I look up at the night sky. Slow magic. The stars are shining like white-flamed candles in a pitch-black background, and there are so many shooting stars they seem to be raining down on us.
‘Besides,’ he adds. ‘I want you to be able to do everything you ever wanted to, go where you haven’t, see what you haven’t, and experience it all. You will be pregnant when you’re twenty-three, and four, and five, for as many times as you desire.’
‘I only want three,’ I protest with a laugh. And then my voice becomes serious. ‘But I want to adopt a couple, too.’
He raises an enquiring eyebrow.
‘I’ve always wanted to change a child’s life,’ I explain. ‘To take it away from a situation where it could never prosper and give it everything I am able to.’
‘The house is certainly big enough’.
‘Thank you, my darling.’ I lean forward and kiss him chastely on his cheek. My mouth lingers. He moves so it is his mouth on my cheek.
‘The last time,’ he says softly against my cheek, ‘I missed everything. This time I want it all. I want to see your belly grow big with our child, your ankles swell up, and I want to be there when his or her head shows, and you are screaming blue murder. I want to wake up at ungodly hours and watch you feed them.’
‘Stop, you’re putting me off.’
He takes my hand gently. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
The fire crackles. I move back and gaze at the hawk-like noses of the cameleers gathered around another fire a few yards away, to listen to an old man with a narrow, deeply wrinkled face tell stories. His voice is a hoarse whisper. The long sleeves of his gray tunic rise in a sweeping dramatic movement to point at some boulders in the distance. I wonder what tale he is weaving for them.
He strokes his beard, his eyes shining in the light, and the circle of men, squatting on their heels, lean forward eagerly, thrusting their heads out like lizards. I turn toward Blake. In the firelight he is watching me.
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘‘When I saw you standing at the edge of the dance floor in your ruined dress, looking so lost and fragile, I felt like someone had stabbed me right in the heart. And yet you were more dignified and beautiful in your disgrace than any well-bred, stiff upper lip royalty.’
I shake my head; the memory is fresh and hurtful. ‘No, I wasn’t brave at all. I wanted to run away. I was so embarrassed. I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life. All those people gawking at me, some secretly pleased, others pitying. I honestly thought our wedding was totally ruined.’
I press my fingers to his lips. ‘But then you came and caught me up in your eyes and swept me into that dance. And suddenly, it was as if I was in a beautiful dream. I forgot everyone else—no one and nothing mattered, except you and me and our love for each other.’
‘Because no one and nothing matters except you and me and Sorab.’
‘And Billie and Jack,’ I add impishly.
He remains serious. ‘And all our other children when they come along.’
I take his serious tone. ‘What’s going to happen to her?’
He looks away from me, and stares unseeing into the leaping fire close to us. ‘After you left with Billie I went to see her. I was so furious I wanted to kill her. I had to clench my hands into hard fists and hold them tight against my sides when I saw her, but almost instantly, I realized that something was very wrong with her. I had become an obsession. She was mad in a way I had never suspected. She didn’t need to be punched, she needed psychiatric help. So I called her father and he agreed to commit her to an asylum.’ He turns back to face me and looks deeply into my eyes. His voice is strong and edged with some deep emotion. ‘She will never bother you again.’
‘What about when she comes out?’
‘She won’t come out until she is diagnosed as well again. The tests she will have to pass are very rigorous and mean continuous observation over a long period. It will be impossible for her or anyone to fool the panel of psychiatrists. And I will be kept abreast of all her development.’
‘That’s good to know.’ I pause. ‘Blake, how safe is Sorab?’
He frowns. ‘From her?’
‘No, not from her. Just generally.’
‘He is very safe. Why do you ask?’
‘Even the president of America is not so safe that he can’t be assassinated.’
‘The president of America is assassinated if and when his controllers decide he is no longer a good puppet for them. Otherwise, he is impossible to assassinate.’
‘My mother once told me a king is always killed by his courtiers.’
‘That’s true, too. Only they know the weakest spot to strike.’
‘Who are your courtiers?’
‘Why are you so afraid?’
‘Because you are.’
He jerks his head in surprise, but I carry on.
‘I feel your fear all the time. I feel it in the constant surveillance we are subjected to, in your voice, in your body. Who are we being protected from, Blake?’
‘No one. I’m just a very thorough and cautious man. I don’t trust anyone and I would rather be safe than sorry. Now tell me.’ He smiles. ‘Is this the kind of conversation a girl has with her husband on her honeymoon?’