Shattered lives, p.31
Shattered Lives, page 31
part #2 of Rymellan Series
Jayne flipped the sketchbook shut. “So you think it’s terrible?”
“No!”
“Then why say it’s not terrible?”
“Because it’s not terrible.”
“It’s okay, Mo. You don’t have to like my drawings.”
But she could tell Jayne was hurt. Trying to counter the spiteful things others had said about Jayne’s drawings had backfired. “No, I like it. There’s nothing wrong with it. But Carol told Les that people have put down your drawings. And . . . I read your final report from the Learning Academy.” When Jayne’s face flushed she quickly added, “I was just trying to be encouraging, because I don’t agree with what your instructor wrote. Honestly, your drawing isn’t terrible. Can I see it again?”
Jayne didn’t look at her. “I don’t know.”
Mo wanted to kick herself. Why did she have to be so impatient? She should have listened to Les and waited until Jayne offered to show her drawings. But would she ever have taken that step? “Jayne, I screwed up, okay? I shouldn’t have pushed you into showing me your sketch. And honestly, if it was awful, I wouldn’t have said the ‘not terrible’ bit. I would have said it looks good and left it at that. Now that I’ve seen a few of your drawings, I think that instructor was even more of an airhead.”
Her assurances weren’t smoothing over the damage she’d caused. Jayne’s face was still tight, and she wasn’t opening her sketchbook. Congratulations, Mo flaming Middleton! She needed to learn more about building confidence in others, because her approach with Jayne had resulted in the opposite effect. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ll be the last person you’ll ever want to share your work with.”
“You were thinking about my feelings, I guess,” Jayne said. “Most don’t.” But her sketchbook remained closed.
“You do know your art instructor was incredibly rude because of who you are, right? I can’t draw even a tenth as well as you, but my art instructor was polite on my final report. He wouldn’t have dared write what yours wrote, even though I can barely draw to save my life.” If he had, her parents would have complained to the Learning Academy. Who had been Jayne’s guardian and why hadn’t they taken offence? Mo didn’t feel comfortable asking; it hit too close to the Incident.
“You don’t like to draw?” Jayne asked.
“It’s not that I don’t like it—I doodle like everyone else. I’m just not talented in that area. I always preferred music class.” She smiled. “Maybe I should play my violin for you, so you can tell me it’s not terrible.”
“You play the violin?”
Mo nodded.
“I’d like to hear you play.”
“Really?” Mo grinned. “I’ll have to think about what piece to play for you.”
Jayne moved her sketchbook off her lap so she could stretch her legs. “Lesley doesn’t play anything, does she?”
Mo hesitated. Les did, but only for her. But unless Les intended to keep her flute a secret for the rest of her life, Jayne would have to at least know she played. “The flute.”
Jayne’s eyes widened. “Lesley plays the flute?”
“Yeah. But she doesn’t like performing for people. She hates it. I’ve belonged to the military orchestra and to a quartet, but Les always refused to join anything like that. When she was taking lessons, she played for her instructor and me. Now it’s just me.” Though she hadn’t played for Mo since they’d reunited. Next time they were at the Thompsons and nobody else was home, Mo would ask her to play, even if it meant fetching her violin. “She writes music too.”
“That’s interesting,” Jayne said, sounding almost skeptical. She picked up her sketchbook and rested it on her lap again. “Should I at least ask her if she’ll play for me? I don’t want her to think I’m not interested.”
For a moment Mo considered saying yes, imagining the look of horror on Les’s face. But that would be mean, and Les wasn’t stupid. Subtlety, remember? Plus she didn’t want to set Les and Jayne against each other, because that would spell trouble for the triad. She wanted them to be friendly, but not too friendly. “If I were you, I’d wait until she tells you she plays the flute, because that’ll mean she’s ready for you to know. Otherwise you’ll probably embarrass her.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. She doesn’t even play for her parents.”
“Okay.” Jayne looked down at her lap. “Do you still want to see my sketch?”
“Yeah!”
Jayne flipped open her sketchbook, but to the first page, not to the page with the leaf clipped to it. “I don’t know if we have time, but I figured we might as well start at the beginning.”
“We have time,” Mo said without looking at her comm unit. She leaned closer to Jayne, peered at the drawing of another leaf, and kept her mouth shut.
*****
Lesley hung her cloak beside her office door and sat down behind her desk. It had been a while since she’d been out on patrol, but she’d been asked to fill in for a vacationing Interior officer. Her days usually consisted of writing opinions and perhaps investigating tips for Laura. When she’d first transferred to Interior, she would have expected that writing so many opinions would bore her. But Commander Blair, impressed with her work, had slowly requested more and more of her time. To Lesley’s surprise, she enjoyed reading cases and considering whether it would be practical for Interior to enforce an amendment.
Tonight was the supper at Karen’s, followed by the Dance Hall, so she didn’t want to leave the office too late. She pulled up an incomplete dispatch to Blair and finished typing it. While she was reviewing it one last time, her comm station beeped. “Thompson.”
“Sub-lieutenant Weber at Reception, Lieutenant Commander. There’s a Cynthia Stewart here to see you.”
She didn’t recognize the name. “Can you send me her file identifier?”
“Yes.”
Lesley scanned Stewart’s file. Stewart lived in F4. What was she doing at B2 headquarters, asking for Lesley? “Did she say why she wants to see me?”
“Just a moment.” Thirty seconds later, Weber reactivated the connection. “She says it has something to do with a group of concerned Rymellans and that you’ll know what she means.”
Lesley rolled back her chair, both astonished and curious. “I’ll be right there.” Would this woman pressure her in person, right here in headquarters? She’d have to be insane.
Weber pointed when Lesley strode into the lobby and approached the reception desk. “Over there.”
Lesley moved over to the woman waiting in one of the chairs. “Cynthia Stewart?”
Clutching a satchel on her lap, Stewart looked up. “Yes.”
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Thompson. Would you follow me, please.” Lesley led her to an interview room off Reception and invited her to sit in one of the chairs arranged around a table. Stewart took a seat and rested her satchel against the chair. She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again. Lesley sat across from her.
“Do you know why I’m here?” Stewart blurted before Lesley had a chance to speak.
“The sub-lieutenant mentioned the group of concerned Rymellans, so I assume you’re here about the letters I’ve received.”
Stewart’s head bobbed, but she remained silent.
“Did you send the letters?” Lesley prompted.
She shook her head, but said, “Well, I was there when they decided to send the first one.”
They. So it was more than one.
“But I didn’t feel comfortable with it. And—and now I’m worried that he won’t stop and will keep harassing you and cross the line. That’s why I decided to come and see you.”
Lesley clasped her hands on top of the table and tried to look reassuring. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
Stewart nodded, then jumped when her satchel fell on its side with a thud. She stared at Lesley in horror.
“It’s okay,” Lesley said, forcing a smile. “Just start at the beginning.”
“Okay.” Stewart sighed. “It started thirteen years ago,” she said, intriguing Lesley. “Does my name mean anything to you? The name Stewart?”
Lesley shook her head. “No.”
Stewart gaped. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” Lesley said carefully.
“My sister, Brenda, was one of the four executed during the Adams Incident.” Lesley hid her surprise with difficulty as Stewart continued. “We tried to have the children—the Adams children—executed, but we failed. So when the triad was announced and Kevin found out about CT134 . . .”
“You thought you’d have a second chance. Is Kevin the one you’re concerned about?”
“He’s my brother, and yes, I’m concerned about him. He sent you the second letter. I don’t know who else was involved. I wasn’t comfortable sending the first, and he knew that. So he stopped involving me.”
“Is he in the military?”
Stewart’s brow furrowed. “No.”
“Then who’s using our internal system to send the letters?”
“Lieutenant Brock,” Stewart said.
Lesley mentally filed away the name. “So you’re concerned that your brother will send me more letters and—”
“I’m sure of it! He keeps checking the announcements for news that you’ve exercised the article. I’m afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t.”
And since they weren’t going to, they had a problem.
“I thought, okay, we’ll send you our opinion and then we’ve done what we can do.” Stewart frowned. “To be honest, I would rather have just ignored the whole thing, but when Kevin invited me to the meeting I didn’t think I could say no. But I thought once we sent the letter, that would be it. When I found out he’d sent you another one, I couldn’t believe it. And his Chosen is worried about him, because he’s obsessed with it. Obsessed!” She drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I didn’t know what to do. I’ve agonized over this for days, and even now, I feel like I’m betraying him. But I don’t want to see him in trouble.”
“You did the right thing,” Lesley said, though she found it interesting that Stewart had sought her out in person, rather than going to her local military outpost. Perhaps she’d wanted to see with her own eyes that Lesley wasn’t a monster, or perhaps she’d hoped to keep the matter private. The latter wouldn’t be possible—the letters were now an Interior case.
“What are you going to do?” Stewart asked.
“We’ll talk to Kevin.”
Her hands went to her face. “Argamon,” she breathed. “Can you keep me out of it? He won’t understand that I did it for his own good. He’s already angry with me for not fully supporting him.”
“I’ll try,” Lesley said, meaning it. Not only was she familiar with how it felt to sound the alarm for someone’s own good, but this Kevin would need his family’s support, including his sister’s. Lesley didn’t want to turn him against her, especially since Stewart’s “betrayal” was motivated by love.
“I’m sorry. About the letter,” Stewart said, tentatively meeting Lesley’s eyes.
“It’s all right. You were only offering an opinion,” she said, despite how the letter had angered her. She could forgive one letter, and now that she understood the motivation and history behind it, she was glad she hadn’t taken its advice. This group didn’t want to protect the Way, it wanted vengeance. Lesley slid her comm unit from its holder. “I’d like to ask you a few more questions.” Stewart nodded.
After gathering specifics, Kevin’s full name and sector of residence among them, Lesley rose and said, “Thank you. I have all I need for now, but we may contact you again.”
Stewart followed her lead and picked up her satchel. “Do you know when you’ll talk to him?”
“Soon.” She could see Stewart’s internal conflict all over her face. “You did the right thing,” Lesley said again. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention.” Stewart nodded, but looked miserable.
Lesley escorted her back into the lobby and said good-bye. The moment Stewart disappeared through the double doors, Lesley headed to Laura’s office.
*****
Apprehensive, Jayne stared out the window as Mo landed her craft in the holding area near the Dance Hall. Every seat was occupied, and the others—Karen, William, Neil, and Barbara—were following in Lesley’s craft.
The supper at Karen’s had been more relaxed and pleasant than the one with Lesley’s parents. Mo had seemed surprised, and a little nervous, when Mary and Matthew arrived, but she needn’t have worried. They’d treated Jayne coolly, but not impolitely. Jayne appreciated that they were making the effort for Mo. Lesley’s brother had been the only missing sibling, and nobody had mentioned him.
She followed everyone off the craft. “They were right behind us, so they should be here any minute,” Mo said as eyes rose to scan the sky. Soon afterward, Lesley’s craft came into view.
Jayne had always wanted to go to the Dance Hall, but now that she was here, she wouldn’t mind if she never stepped a foot inside it. Not only did the thought of dancing in front of others intimidate her, but everyone would know Lesley and Mo and sympathize with them. Poor Lesley and Mo. If they want a night out, they have to drag Adams along. She agreed with the sentiment so she couldn’t fault anyone for thinking it, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t mind everyone whispering about her all night.
“Shall we?” Lesley said when she and the others joined them.
Jayne fell into step with Carol and Ronald, grateful for their presence and everyone else’s. Inviting them all along had been a great idea. Maybe if she slinked inside with the others, nobody would notice her. No; she, Carol, and Ronald were the only strangers, and once Carol danced with Ronald, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who the Adams was.
They’d deliberately arrived an hour after the Hall opened so they wouldn’t have to wait in line. Lesley led the way through the entrance and apparently paid for everyone, since Jayne and the others were waved through without having to present their comm units. Jayne’s nervousness grew along with the volume of the music and voices as they headed down a corridor to what a sign at the entrance proclaimed was the public ballroom. When Lesley pulled open the door, Jayne’s heart beat so fast, she felt slightly dizzy.
They entered a huge, dimly lit room replete with tables, refreshments, and too many Rymellans. Jayne lowered her eyes and allowed Lesley’s back to guide her. “There are a couple of free tables over there,” someone—Matthew?—said. “We can push them together.”
She glanced around when they reached the tables, but everything appeared distorted, a blur of people and colour and lights. Chosens naturally sat together, so she ended up between Carol and Mo, with Lesley at Mo’s right.
“So this is the great Dance Hall,” Mo said to Jayne. “Not much, is it?”
Maybe she’d agree with Mo in a few years, but not tonight.
*****
Lesley gave up on remembering what everyone wanted to drink and pulled out her comm unit, feeling like a server. She recorded the “orders” she’d already collected and moved on to Nathan.
“I’ll go with you to get the drinks,” Carol said when Lesley reached her. “You won’t be able to carry them all on your own.”
They joined the end of the queue for the refreshment table. A minute later, someone behind Lesley loudly cleared his throat. She looked over her shoulder. Douglas Trent, a long-time C3 resident, caught her eye. “I’m surprised to see you here, Lesley.”
“Why?”
His eyes flicked to Carol, then back to Lesley. “I’m surprised you and Mo are in the mood for a night out.”
“Oh.” Lesley faced forward again, hoping to dissuade him from saying more. It didn’t work.
“Will you be coming here often?”
This time she turned around. “Yes.”
He grunted. “That’s unfortunate. I’d like to think my Chosen and I can enjoy a night out without being reminded of certain . . .” his nostrils flared “. . . events.”
Now Carol turned around. Trent’s eyes bored into her. “We’re not used to people like you in C3,” he said.
“People like me?”
“Your parents were a disgrace!”
Carol’s mouth tightened. “My pa—”
“I suppose I can’t fault you for being here, with your Chosens. But mind your behaviour! At least you’ll always be in the company of an Interior officer. Or you should be!” He stomped off, apparently deciding he’d rather pass on a drink than stand in line behind an Adams.
Lesley and Carol faced forward again, in time to see the couple in front of them hastily turn as well. “Well, I’ve been told,” Carol said, appearing more amused than irritated. “I wonder what he’ll do when I dance with Ronald? Call for the military?” She glanced at one of the on-duty officers surveying the hall.
Lesley chuckled over Trent’s case of mistaken identity. “He’ll realize his mistake when Mo and Jayne dance together.”
“Yes, but Ronald and I might dance before then. If he makes a fool of himself by kicking up a fuss, it’ll serve him right.”
But that would only result in more hard feelings, something Lesley would prefer to avoid. “Perhaps you should wait until Mo and Jayne dance, then. You can go on the dance floor with them, for support.”
“I will, for Jayne’s sake,” Carol said after a moment. “She’d hate for the military to come swooping in.”
The line shuffled forward. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you ever have to deal with the same sort of hostility that Jayne does?” Lesley asked. “I know you were almost denied entry to college, but what about to your face?”
