The Gypsy Comet
Page 19
He chewed his lip but remained silent.
“I’ve probably ruined everything for us now.” I sniffed. The tension in his body told me he agreed. “I can’t go into those parties again and have them glare at my… gypsy filthiness.” I wanted to spit and scratch at the images in my mind. “The same lecherous men who wanted to paw at me before now won’t look me in the eye.”
“I’ll take a small comfort in that,” murmured Dag.
“Dag, I’m not kidding.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Bad attempt at humor.” He sighed, snuggling me against him in a protective embrace. “I’m at a loss. I don’t understand their reaction, either.”
“I tried.” Sobs came louder now, racking my body with grief and rejection.
“You were so brave.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
He didn’t answer for a long time. “It isn’t over yet, Brita. You’ve planted a seed. Maybe some of them—all of them—were too cowardly to acknowledge it, but your words are going to mean something to them. It’s going to get under their self-important skin and eat them from the inside.”
“Huh. Well, I’m not giving them any pearl powder serum to heal them.”
His warm chuckle rumbled through me. “Now you’re the one making jokes.”
Sitting on the bed, we faced each other. I took his hands in mine, allowing the tears to fall undeterred for now. “Dag, you know I love you.”
“And I love you. All of you. Gypsy and colonist and spacey’s wife. Mother to my two daughters. You are the world to me.”
I nodded. “And you are mine.” I sniffed. “But…”
“But?” He aged ten years in a heartbeat.
“Our children deserve a world larger than this room. They need to be free to go anywhere a human can go, love anyone they want, and build a future that’s good and bright and meaningful.”
“Brita…”
I shook my head. “I can’t stay here.”
“Brita, please.”
“You said it yourself, Dag. I’m a comet. A gypsy comet. I need to go out there and try again. Orbit in from another angle and find a way to bring our people—yours, mine, everyone’s people—together. If not in unity and love, at least in mutual respect and basic civic equality.”
He squeezed my hands, gazing at me with turbulent eyes.
“I have to try. I have to do something to make things right.” Through a clenched jaw, I whispered, “I am Queen Levia’s heir. My aunt declined, my mother is dead, and I’m all that’s left. I don’t want to rule the System, but I will do whatever I can to make her vision a reality.”
Dag cradled my face in his hands. “You will light up the sky wherever you go.”
OOO
I pressed my lips together to keep them from quivering as Dag administered the vaccines. The prick in my arm held no pain, but the sadness in his eyes accused my conscience. Felly, too, stood unusually solemn, watching us interact as if she sensed something different about this drop.
“Where’s Caz?” I complained. “Jana was supposed to bring her by now.”
“The birthday party must have run long.” Dag’s voice rang hollow, and he didn’t meet my gaze.
“But the ferry leaves in ten minutes.” My ankles jittered with nervous energy, and an aching in my chest compelled me to turn back down the hall towards the lift. Where was Jana? Where was my baby girl with the wise, discerning eyes of an explorer?
Other passengers were already boarding the ferry, all of them gypsies of the loud, laughing sort that annoyed ICS dwellers. Their cheer should have lifted me, but all I could think of was Caz.
I couldn’t leave for—who knew how long?—without saying goodbye to that precious piece of me, the daughter after my own heart. My eyes welled with tears, and I second-guessed my decision. How could I leave my budding family to fight in an ambiguous battle?
I ground my teeth and swiped at the tears rolling down my cheeks. “She should be here by now.”
“Brita.” Dag’s hand rested gently on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”
“But I do!” I snapped, spinning on my heel to face him. “Don’t you see I’m doing this for the girls? For Caz—she’s a gypsy at heart. I can feel it in her.”
“I know,” he whispered into my hair. “I feel it, too.” His embrace squeezed more tears from my eyes, and I reached a hand to Felly to bring her into our circle.
She hesitated, then grasped Dag’s lab coat instead, watching me with a doleful stare.
She knew. She had to know.
Hot guilt boiled in my stomach at abandoning her.
“Where’s Caz?” I demanded.
“It’s time to board,” said Dag.
“I have to say goodbye to my baby. Why isn’t Jana here? Doesn’t she know how important this is?”
“She doesn’t know,” he whispered. “She thinks you’ll be back in a week at the most.”
“I…” I choked as my thoughts went blank with grief. My parents were dead, and now I would be dead to my girls until we could be reunited. But when would that be?
“Time!” called the ferry attendant. “Last call to board.”
Clutching Dag’s arms, I gave him one last, long kiss. “Keep the girls safe.” I shuddered at my own words, aching to think of leaving them.
My precious Caz!
“This may take time, but I am always yours, and we will be together again. All of us. And it will be a different, better world.”
Dag’s grip on my fingers tightened as I boarded, our arms stretching out through the opening to make the moment last as long as we could. “Goodbye, my beautiful gypsy comet.” He swallowed hard and let go, stepping back from the door. “We’ll be watching for you to orbit home again. I love you. I will always love you.”
The ferry hatch closed. I remained with my hands pressed against it until the artificial gravity turned off and I drifted into the air.
THANK YOU FOR READING! If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or elsewhere so that other readers will know it is worth their time to fly with Brita. Also, if you have not yet discovered the rest of the Gypsy Pearl series, be sure to catch books 1-3:
The Gypsy Pearl
The Gypsy Fugitive
The Gypsy Sacrifice
In 2019, there will be at least two more Gypsy Pearl books released, so watch for those, too!
For more information about Lia London and her other books (in a variety of genres), please visit www.LiaLondonBooks.com
Special Thanks…
No one can write a book without help, and this story is no exception. I wish to give a grateful shout-out to Michelle Isenhoff, one of the most talented independent writers I’ve ever known. She has taken an interest in this series and helped me refine my storytelling in many ways. I am flabbergasted at the time she is willing to spend polishing my manuscript with loving care.
Also, I wish to thank Heather Berberet and Anne Riener, friends from my youth who were also there when the Gypsy Pearl series was born. When I announced my plans to revisit the series and expand it, they jumped on board to be plot and continuity consultants. It makes my whole being smile to think I am so blessed with good friends.