Mo blew out a sigh. “Why not?”
Lesley looked to Jayne, who nodded. Hopefully supper and the walk would soothe Mo’s ruffled feathers. Lesley had imagined that using the impregnator, starting a family, would be a hopeful, joyous event, not one fraught with tension and hurt feelings. “Do you need help in the kitchen?” she asked Jayne.
“I already asked her and she said no,” Mo said. Lesley could hear the irritation in Mo’s voice. Jayne probably could, too.
“I’m fine.” Jayne turned to leave.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Lesley said to Mo. She set the box on an end table and hurried after Jayne. “Are you all right?” she murmured, putting her arm around Jayne and squeezing her.
Jayne smiled and said, “I’m fine,” but she wasn’t fooling Lesley.
Two weeks later
“I’m not pregnant,” Mo said, her disappointment coming through the comm station loud and clear.
Lesley leaned over her desk. “We’ll try again in a couple of weeks,” she said, masking her own disappointment. “Remember what Crawford said. A few tries isn’t unusual.”
“I know. Oh well, I’d better go. I’m due on 72.” Mo sighed. “I’ll tell Jayne before I go, though.”
“Mo.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Mo’s voice brightened. “I love you, too.”
Around a month later
Bent over her comm unit, Lesley pretended that she wasn’t listening to the conversation taking place between Jayne and Joanna.
“We can include one and see how people react,” Joanna was saying.
“I know how they’ll react.” Jayne paused. “I don’t want to ruin it for the other artists.”
“Oh, so it’s the other artists you’re worried about. Yes, I can imagine how traumatic it would be for them if everyone fawns over their paintings and turns up their noses at yours.”
“They won’t want their paintings in the same show as one of mine.”
“Is that what they said when you beeped them all and asked?”
During the ensuing silence, Lesley fought the urge to lift her head. She imagined Joanna with her hands on her hips and Jayne with her arms folded. That was usually how it went when the two butted heads.
“It’s fear, you know,” Joanna finally said. “Everyone goes through it, but not everyone has a family history to hide behind.”
“I’m not hiding behind my family history!”
“Yes you are. But I’ve pushed enough for tonight, and poor Lesley doesn’t know where to look.”
Lesley chuckled to herself. Joanna would have made a good Interior officer—if she could pass the psychological evaluation.
“Do think about it, though. The show’s still a few months away, and despite the fuss around your Joining, I suspect most won’t realize who Jayne Thompson is.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jayne said; Lesley wondered if she would.
Footsteps approached her. “You can look up now, Lesley.” Joanna said, sounding closer. “We’ve finished for tonight.”
Lesley smoothed her expression and slipped her comm unit into its holder. She put on her cloak and waited for Jayne and Joanna to say their good-byes, then nodded to Joanna and followed Jayne from the studio. Jayne was walking faster than usual. Lesley had to increase her pace to keep up. “She only pushes because she cares and doesn’t want to see your work languish.”
Jayne kept her eyes on the path. “I know.”
Her tone convinced Lesley to drop the subject. “Mo hasn’t beeped. That’s a good sign.”
Jayne brushed a stray hair out of her eye.
“What’s bothering you about having a daughter?” Lesley asked, hoping that Jayne might let something slip while she was still mulling over her conversation with Joanna.
“Nothing.”
“You seem...” Conflicted was too loaded a word. “Unsure about it.”
Jayne shoved her hands into her cloak’s pockets. “I want us to have a daughter.”
“But...”
“There is no but!” Jayne snapped, deepening Lesley’s certainty that there was.
“Jayne...it might help to get it out in the open.”
“I want us to have a daughter. I’m excited about it, most of the time. When I’m not, it’s just me being...me. I worry about things nobody else worries about, and I don’t need to burden you and Mo with it. I want you to enjoy the whole experience. I don’t want to ruin it for you. I’ll deal with it.” She slipped her hand from her pocket and touched Lesley’s arm. “You worry about Mo.” Her hand was back in her pocket before Lesley could grasp it.
So she was keeping quiet for them, so they wouldn’t worry about...what? I don’t want to ruin it for you. Jayne had said something similar to Joanna. I know how they’ll react. I don’t want to ruin it for the other artists. Was Jayne worried that having a daughter would somehow turn everyone against them? That didn’t make sense. C3 residents were growing used to having a triad and an Adams in the sector, and having a daughter would be the expected thing to do. By the time she was born, they would have been Joined for over two years. Neither achievement would cause Rymellans to turn their backs—quite the opposite.
As they walked on in silence, Lesley considered other possibilities. One interpretation of Jayne’s words made terrible sense: perhaps Jayne thought the other artists would feel their paintings devalued, at least in the eyes of the critics, if they were shown along with hers. After all, the Adams taint was contagious.
They reached the aviacraft. Lesley slid into the pilot’s seat and punched in the coordinates for the Thompson estate, but instead of lifting off, she turned to Jayne. “You’re worried that everyone will look down on our daughter because of you,” she stated.
Jayne stiffened, then slowly exhaled.
“She won’t be in the same position that you were in,” Lesley said gently. “Even if she has a hard time at the academies, she’ll have us, aunts, uncles, cousins, children whose parents don’t hold anything against you. She’ll have sisters, too.” Siblings who actually cared.
“That’s all true, but if it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have a hard time at the academies.”
“We don’t know that she will.”
Jayne whipped toward Lesley. “You honestly don’t think that some parents are going to say, stay away from—” Her breath caught in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“What is it?” Lesley reached for Jayne’s hand. Her throat tightened when Jayne hung on.
“I’m going to love this daughter,” Jayne said, her voice barely a whisper.
“I know you will.” Lesley said, after waiting for more. “You said you don’t want to ruin it for us. Don’t let what might happen ruin it for you.”
“I can’t be naive. I can’t pretend to myself that everything will be okay.”
“If she has a hard time, it won’t be your fault.” Lesley bit back her frustration. It would be easy to say, “Don’t let the narrow-minded mar everything for you,” but expecting pithy advice to counteract Jayne’s years of being ostracized would be unreasonable. Jayne had already braved so much since they’d met; she’d grown less fearful, but her past still cast a long shadow. Plus, her concerns were understandable, especially since some did consider her a threat to the Way. She wasn’t being paranoid or overly sensitive. “She’ll have her parents,” Lesley said, to drive the point home. “We’ll be there to support her. Especially you. You’ve been through it.”
To her surprise, Jayne snorted. “I wish I could say that I’m completely concerned about her and want to protect her, but unfortunately I’m not that unselfish. Of course I’ll want to protect her. But I also want to protect me. The problem is, I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Lesley asked.
“I really am excited about this. Mo keeps saying I’ll be taking care of her when you two aren’t home. You’ll think this is silly, but I imagine taking her with me to my favourite dr
awing spots, and when she’s old enough, putting a pencil in her hand and guiding her through her first drawing.” Jayne’s tone grew mocking. “After we’ve had a sumptuous picnic lunch outside in the perfect weather with the birds twittering in harmony.”
Lesley squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t sound silly. I’m sure everyone imagines spending wonderful times with their children.”
Jayne swallowed. “Except mine won’t last. Because one day, she’ll go to the Learning Academy, and that new friend she’s been having lunch with every day won’t want anything to do with her. When she asks why, her supposed friend will say, ‘Because your mama is an Adams.’ Now, maybe she’ll brush it off the first time. Maybe she won’t really understand what the girl meant, or maybe she won’t care, but then it’ll happen again, and again. And then she’ll be eating lunch all alone, surrounded by hostile faces and whispers. Nobody will want to work with her on group projects. Nobody will want to be seen talking to her.” Jayne’s eyes glistened. “And nobody will be surprised when she comes home and blames me, and wants nothing to do with me anymore. The problem is, I can’t protect myself. The moment I lay eyes on that baby, I’ll love her. But every time I gaze at her, I’ll know that it’ll only be a matter of time before she turns on me. So I’m not only afraid for her. I’m afraid for myself.”
Lesley wanted to say, “Your own daughter won’t turn on you,” but stopped herself. Jayne’s parents had turned on her. So had her brother, and while her aunt and uncle had taken her in, their relationship with Jayne could hardly be described as warm. Only Carol had stuck by her. The triad would do its best to bring up their daughters to respect family and follow the spirit of the Way, but Jayne was right. Particularly during those adolescent years when fitting in was all-important for some, would their daughters have the strength to stand up for their mama in the face of losing their friends? Lesley believed that most parents in C3 wouldn’t explicitly tell their children not to be friends with the Thompsons, but the way in which they explained to their children that Jayne was the Adamses’ daughter would convey more than their words.
Lesley didn’t want to warn her daughters that their friends might reject them because of Jayne’s history; that would only lead to them having the same fear that Jayne was battling. But the triad would have to consider how to prepare them for the possibility that they might be unfairly judged. What Jayne feared might actually happen, and Lesley wouldn’t belittle that fear. But it was beyond their control. All the triad could do was instill a deep sense of self-worth in their daughters, teach them about the spirit of the Way, and hope that their strong familial bonds would see them through any difficult times.
“As you said, you’re going to love our daughter, no matter what,” Lesley said. “I know this will be easier said than done, but try to assume that everything will be all right. After all, we’ll be bringing her up.”
“I know. And if she has to turn against me for a while to get through the academies, I’ll deal with it. I’ll understand.” Jayne’s voice dropped. “That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, though.”
“You won’t face it alone.”
“I know that, too.” Jayne chuckled wryly. “Look at me, worrying about being rejected by someone who doesn’t exist.” She paused. “I can control what I do with my paintings. Joanna’s pushing me to try one painting in a show, but I can say no. I can protect myself. But this baby...” She blew out a heartfelt sigh. “I can’t do anything. I can’t not love her, so I don’t know why I’m wasting time struggling with it, because I don’t have a choice. All it’s doing is making you think I don’t want a daughter.”
“I thought something might be upsetting you about it, but I’ve never doubted that you want us to start a family.” However, Mo had said a few things that indicated she might feel differently. “Are you going to talk to Mo about this?”
“I don’t want to bother her with it, at least not until she’s pregnant.”
Lesley didn’t have to ask why. “Speaking of Mo, we should head home, unless you want to talk some more.”
Jayne shook her head. “Let’s go home.”
Lesley gave Jayne’s hand another squeeze before letting it go. She lifted off and engaged the auto-navigation system. “Thanks for being honest with me.” Suspecting that the prospect of having a daughter was tying Jayne up in knots hadn’t tempered Lesley’s anticipation and optimism, but it had always been at the back of her mind. She’d wondered if they were somehow hurting her. Now that she knew what worried Jayne, she could fully look forward to Mo becoming pregnant. If Jayne’s fears came to pass, they’d deal with the situation then—together. For now, Lesley would do what she’d advised Jayne to do: assume that everything would be all right.
The moment they arrived home and stepped into the living room, her optimism fled. She didn’t have to ask; the sight of Mo slumped on the sofa told her.
“Next time you pick up an impregnator, can you ask for an extra one, so I can kick it out the flaming window?” Mo muttered.
“You should have beeped,” Lesley said, sinking onto the sofa. Since Mo’s arms were folded, Lesley patted her leg.
“I figured I’d deliver the news in person.” Mo looked up. “If you don’t want a daughter, you’re getting your wish,” she said to Jayne.
“Mo!”
“It’s okay.” Jayne glanced around, then shoved her hands into her pockets. These days, she only took a sketchbook with her when she went out alone. “I’m sorry you’re not pregnant, I really am.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Mo mumbled. “What did they say? Don’t be concerned until six months have passed?”
Lesley nodded. They still had four months before they’d face a dreaded interview with the physician.
“What if there’s something wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. We’ve only tried twice.” Lesley slipped her arm around Mo’s shoulders. “It’ll happen.”
“I hope so.” Mo unfolded her arms and reached for Lesley.
“It will.” Lesley said, holding Mo tight and rubbing her back. “I’ll go make tziva,” she heard Jayne say.
When she was sure Jayne was gone, she kissed Mo’s hair and whispered, “When you’re feeling better, we need to have a talk about Jayne.”
*****
Jayne followed Lesley and Mo into what would become their first daughter’s bedroom and turned to them, wondering why they’d led her here.
“Do you remember telling me that you always wanted to paint a mural?” Mo said, her voice bouncing off the empty room’s walls.
“Yes, I do.” She didn’t remember everything they’d said to each other since meeting, but she remembered that conversation. She’d surprised herself by trusting Mo with something she’d only ever told Carol, and wasn’t at all upset that Mo had told Lesley. She’d assumed from the beginning that telling one would essentially tell both, that if she didn’t want one of them to know something, she couldn’t tell either of them. She was certain that Lesley had already told Mo about their conversation in the aviacraft.
“You said all you needed was a wall.” Mo grinned and waved her arms toward the wall facing the door. “Here’s your wall.”
Now they were both smiling. It took Jayne a moment to understand. “You want me to paint a mural, here, on this wall?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
Excitement pushed through her worries and bubbled to the surface.
“Our daughter will wake up every morning and see the mural by one of her mamas,” Lesley said.
“She’ll have the best flaming mural on the planet,” Mo added.
Jayne’s natural tendency to find a dark cloud in every sky didn’t stand a chance. A million possibilities, colours, shapes, and themes flew through her mind. Yes, their daughter would wake up to a glorious scene; it would be as close to perfection as possible. Wondrous. Breathtaking. Incredible. No matter what others whispered about her, no matter how much their daughter resented her, she wouldn’
t be able to deny that from her Adams mama could spring something beautiful and unblemished.
“Jayne?” she heard Mo say from a distance.
She shook herself. “I—I have to plan. I have to envision what—I need supplies. I have to make a list. I—” Her voice choked off. She reached for her Chosens and swallowed the lump in her throat when she felt their arms around her. “Thank you.” Thank you, thank you, thank you. She pulled away from them and stared at the wall—her wall. “I need to think. I need to be alone.”
Mo glanced at Lesley. “We’re being kicked out so the artist can contemplate her creation.”
Lesley nodded.
“When you know what you need, I’ll fly you to the Trading Centre,” Mo said to Jayne.
“It won’t be today. I need time,” Jayne said, feeling guilty because they’d just given her a wonderful gift, and she desperately wanted them to leave.
“Oh, excuse me,” Mo drawled. “I’m not familiar with how you artists do, uh, whatever it is you do when you’re trying to come up with an idea.”
“She doesn’t have the benefit of watching you work with Joanna,” Lesley said, amusement in her eyes.
“If you don’t mind, right now, I need to be alone,” Jayne said, giving the wall her full attention. She bit her lip.
“Why don’t you get your violin and meet me downstairs?” Lesley said. “We’ll do some creating of our own.”
“Sure,” Mo replied.
“Can you shut the door behind you?” Jayne said without looking over her shoulder. She clenched her hands. She didn’t turn around when one of them—it felt like Lesley—touched her back. The door clicked shut. She listened to Lesley descend the stairs. Mo traipsed along the hallway to fetch her violin and then returned. When Jayne could no longer hear Mo’s elephant footsteps thumping down to the living room, she unclenched her hands, sat cross-legged on the floor, lowered her head, and wept.
Identity Crisis Page 2
