by Neal Jones
"Is she awake?"
"No. She was, and she had a slight fever. That's what I was using the rag and cold water for. She just now went back to sleep, but she'll probably be up in a couple hours. I was about to fix myself breakfast. Would you like some?"
The lights in the kitchen came up automatically, adjusting to a preset level. Kralin nodded, suddenly realizing that he hadn't had anything of substance to eat since the pair of ales last night on the promenade of the docking station.
"Some syn meat with baked taxyl would be nice."
"Have a seat." Eema motioned to the dining table and then began to gather the ingredients, humming softly as she worked. Kralin wasn't surprised to see that she knew her way around Jharis' kitchen.
"How long have you been caring for my mother?"
"Just over a year now. Farak initially hired me part time, but Doctor Zokem insisted that Jharis needed full time care. Your mother insisted that I move into the garden guest house. I don't think your father liked my presence here on a permanent basis, and he definitely objected to me cooking and cleaning for him. He told me at one point that I was a nurse, not a house maid. If he'd wanted one he'd have hired one."
Kralin smiled apologetically. "Yes, that sounds exactly like my father. Stubbornness is one of his best traits, unfortunately."
"He is stubborn, but he's also very kind - and very protective. He loves your mother very much."
"I don't doubt it," Kralin said with just a touch of defensiveness.
Eema began slicing the raw meat and arranging it in a baking pan. "I know this won't come as a surprise, but your mother has told me so much about you and Jran that I feel I've known you for most of my life."
Kralin nodded, relieved that the nurse's back was to him so he wouldn't have to force a smile. "I don't doubt that as well. My mother was proud of us both, even when it was hard to show it."
Eema changed the subject then, much to Kralin's relief, and they made small talk for the next half hour while the meat cooked. She poured him a cup of freshly brewed queet, and he was pleasantly surprised by its taste.
"You make this for my father?"
"Every morning before he goes out to the vineyards."
"I see why he kept you around. Mother's queet always tasted a little bland."
"I use a vel spice in the pre-mix." She checked the readout on the oven's display, and then checked the meat. "I think breakfast is ready."
The meat was well done, but still juicy and tender, and not too spicy. Only after the first few bites did he realize how hungry he really was, and he had two more servings after devouring the first. When he was finished, he tore off a chunk of bread to sop up the juices. Eema smiled over the rim of her cup as she sipped her queet.
"You eat like your father."
"Because of the lack of conversation?"
"That, and you get a very concentrated look on your face, like there's nothing else in the world except you and that plate."
"You make an excellent syn dish. Have you always cooked this well?"
"I raised five children and survived two husbands. I wasn't always a good mother or a good wife, but I knew how to cook."
She refilled his cup, and they made more small talk as Eema cleared the table and set the dishes in the reclamator. With a full stomach, and with the warmth of the morning sun shining through the large window next to the dining table, Kralin suddenly felt very sleepy. His mother would be awake soon, and he wanted to talk with her right away, but his fitful sleep from the night before was finally catching up to him, and his body demanded rest.
Kralin stood. "I think I'm going to take a short nap. I'll be in the guest room at the end of the hall. Will you wake me after mother's had her breakfast?"
"Of course."
"Thank you." Kralin walked up the stairs and paused at his mother's door. He wanted to peek in, but then thought better of it. He would wait until she was awake, until she was ready to see him. He walked into the guest room and didn't bother pulling back the sheets. He laid down and slept for the rest of the morning.
( 3 )
It was early afternoon when Kralin finally awoke, and for a few moments he couldn't remember where he was. But then he heard Eema's voice in the hall, and he glanced at the com panel on the wall beside the door to check the time. He wasn't surprised that he'd slept for over six hours, but he was angry that he might have missed his opportunity to speak to his mother while she was awake. She was probably taking a nap now, and Kralin hurried into the hall where he saw Eema coming out of Jharis' room with a lunch tray. On it was an empty bowl and a cup of something.
"Oh, good, I was about to come wake you. Your mother just finished her lunch, and she's expecting you. Today is one of her good days."
"Thank you," Kralin replied.
Eema continued down the stairs, and Kralin hesitated for a moment before entering his mother's room. Jharis looked up as her son walked in, and her face broke into a smile that made her look just as he remembered her all those years ago. She hadn't been smiling on that day he left, but she had still been young and vibrant. Now, as Kralin sat in the chair beside the bed and embraced his mother, he could barely contain his shock at her frail and haggard appearance.
"Kralin! I'm so happy that you're here." That sentence alone seemed to cost Jharis a great deal of strength. She laid back against her pillows and adjusted her IV tube. The bio-monitor attached to the wall above her head beeped softly, its display showing her vitals. The respiration filter sat on a table on the other side of the bed. It, too, had its own rhythmic beeping, playing counterpoint to the bio-monitor.
"How do you feel?" It was a dumb question, but it was all Kralin could think of at the moment. He reached out to tuck the blanket more snugly around Jharis' legs.
"Quite a sight, aren't I?" She attempted a laugh. "I'm sorry that you have to see me like this."
"I..." Kralin looked at the bio-monitor again, and then at the other machine, and then at the IV and the other pair of tubes connected to her chest.
"Kralin, look at me." He obeyed. "I know how all of this must look to you, and I know it's been a long time. I apologize that I didn't write you sooner, but I guess was too afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"That you would reject my letters the way you rejected your father's."
"No. That's not true. I would have read them."
"Then why not read your father's letters? He wanted to reach out to you, to try and mend this rift, because I wanted him to."
Kralin scowled and crossed his arms as he sat back. "I find that difficult to believe."
"Why? You think that your father is really that stubborn?"
"Yes. He's never once done anything that he didn't want to do. If he really did want to talk to me..."
"Then what? You wouldn't have believed him? Or maybe you're the one who was being stubborn?"
"I didn't want to come back home. You know that."
"Yes," Jharis replied sadly. "I know."
"Mother, I don't want to upset you. Let's talk about something else."
She shook her head and forced herself into a sitting position. "No. There may not be another time for us, and my strength right now is as good as it's ever going to get." She motioned to a table in the corner. "Will you pour me a glass of tea?"
Kralin obeyed and watched as his mother took a few tentative sips. She handed the glass back to him and smiled.
"That is something I am going to miss. Eema makes very good tea. I just want to apologize for whatever part I may have played in pushing you away. I never wanted you to leave, Kralin – you or Jran. It's just that I – " She paused, and Kralin couldn't tell if it was because of pain or a loss for words.
"Just what? That you and father were more concerned with traditions and rules than with letting your sons be themselves?"
"It's not that simple and you know it."
"It is that simple. With father, especially. All he ever cared about was the church and the rites of passage and
all the other ridiculous rituals and traditions that the religion demanded. That's why Jran left, though neither of you would ever admit it."
"There was more between Jran and your father than you will ever know, Kralin. But all that is in the past now. It doesn't matter. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and that I'm very glad you're here now." Jharis reached out and laid her frail hand upon her son's, clasping it.
"So am I," Kralin replied with a conviction that he didn't really feel.
Jharis closed her eyes and breathed deep. "Will you open the window for me, just a little bit?"
"Is it too warm for you? I can adjust the temperature setting."
"No, no, the window will be enough. This time of year is my favorite. I want to feel the fresh breeze."
"Yes, I remember," Kralin said dryly as he unlocked the pane. "We were always freezing because you'd keep the windows open all day."
"Oh you enjoyed it as much as I did. Especially now that you've been cooped up on that space station for all this time."
"I have missed this view," Kralin murmured. He looked out across the vast rows of emerald vines, their white tanta almost ready for harvest. The red-orange sky seemed just as endless, and Kralin was struck with a sudden memory of when he was very young, and Farak took him into the fields to help with a harvest. Kralin was too little to do more than pick the tanta pearls that were lowest to the ground, and he ended up eating more than he put in the sack. Farak just shook his head and pretended to scold his son, but Kralin knew his father had snuck a handful every now and then.
The memory was so sudden and poignant that Kralin had to blink to clear his vision, and he scolded himself for being so emotional. He turned to his mother. "You should get some rest. I'll come back later."
"Oh please stay," Jharis replied. "I don't need any more rest, not for a couple hours at least, and I really have missed you."
Kralin nodded and forced a smile as he sat back down in the chair beside the bed. "All right. Would you like me to read you something?"
"No, but I do have a complete set of battlefield in that cupboard over there. Eema went into the city and bought me one a few months ago. We always play a round or two in the afternoons when I have my tea and medicine."
Kralin opened the cupboard. "When did you start playing this? And who taught you?"
Jharis looked surprised at her son's question. "Your father, of course."
"What?"
"It was a few years ago. He kept pestering me to play with him, and I finally gave in. Once I learned the basic strategies it became quite fun, and I even learned a couple tricks that helped me beat him once. But only that one time. We still play at least one round when he gets home at night, before I take my last dose for the day."
Kralin set up the board and the pieces on his mother's lap. "Jran was much better at this than I was. He tried teaching me a few of the advanced strategies when I was living with him on Beta Erendii, but I never grasped the whole concept. It was too complicated for me."
Jharis laughed.
"What? You don't believe me?"
"You were an instructor at the War Academy. A game as simple as battlefield eludes you? I think it's nonsense."
"I said 'the advanced strategies'. I learned the basics from father."
"I remember. You hated it that he always won. That's why you quit playing him."
"I wanted him to teach me, but he always got so impatient."
Jharis nodded. "Impatience was one of his faults."
"One of many."
"Your father is a complicated man, Kralin. It's hard sometimes to understand him. I know it was for me when we were first wed. Haven't you ever wondered why there's a big age difference between you and Jran?"
"You said once that Jran was an accident. You and father hadn't planned on starting a family so soon after your bonding."
"Yes, that's true. But what I never told you was that Farak hadn't wanted a family in the first place. It wasn't something we had talked about much before our ceremony, and since we were betrothed to one another when we were both quite young, I had always accepted that we would marry one day and start a family of our own. It had never occurred to me until I told him I was pregnant with Jran that he had had other plans."
Jharis paused to arrange her pawns on the board, which is what Kralin should have also been doing with his pieces, but he was too stunned by his mother's revelation to focus on the game.
"Oh, don't be mistaken," Jharis added quickly, and the effort caused her to suffer a brief coughing spell. She sipped her tea, and then said, "Once Jran was born, Farak adjusted to the role of father, and he never regretted it. In fact, you would have been born just over a year after Jran if I hadn't contracted Sayar's disease."
"Yes, I remember all that. The doctor said you would probably never conceive again, and that's why there's a seven year age difference between Jran and I."
Jharis nodded. "What you don't know is that Farak, after we received that news, made his peace with it, and I think he was just a little relieved. Though he loved Jran, and he loved being a father, he decided that one was enough and that that was the will of the Varashok. I wanted more, however, and I wasn't ready to accept defeat so easily." Jharis paused, frowning a bit. "Those few years after I suffered that illness weren't happy ones for your father and I."
Kralin became impatient. "And then I was born. I was a miracle, yes you told me all that."
"I'm trying to help you understand your father, Kralin." She glanced at the board. "It's your move."
He looked down and saw that his mother had advanced one of her pawns. He thought for a second and then moved one from his left flank forward two spaces to counter her move. "I appreciate this, mother, but I don't think it really matters at this point. We'll be civil to each other, but I'm not sure I'll ever understand him, not the way that you want me to."
Jharis laid a hand on her son's arm, and he looked at her. "I don't think you understand, Kralin. My time is very short. Skel has given me only a matter of days."
"Skel?"
"Doctor Zokem." She smiled wanly as she motioned to the machines around her. "At this point I think that these are all that's keeping me going every day." Her smiled faded. "I want you to do more than just talk to your father. You are all that he will have left after I'm gone."
Kralin shook his head. "He has the vineyards and the business."
"No, Kralin, not for much longer."
"What?"
Jharis sighed. "I don't know all the details, but from pieces of various conversations over the last few months, I have learned that business is not as good as it once was. I've tried to broach the subject but he refuses to talk about it. He says I have enough to worry about as it is, and that the business is his to take care of."
"Which he's always done." Kralin was stunned. "I know that the winery suffered during the war, but this company has been in our family for three generations. How could it still be suffering so badly?"
"I don't know. But you need to talk to him, Kralin. Your father needs your help, but he's too proud to admit it." Jharis looked down at the game board and realized it was still her turn. She selected a pawn and moved it forward.
"Is Matok still the vice manager?"
"Yes. If it wasn't for him, your father would probably have had to give up the winery years ago."
Kralin was looking at the game board, but his mind was on this latest piece of news. His mother was right. If the business was failing it was time for him and Farak to have a talk. He should have come back home long before this, and Kralin suddenly felt very tired.
"I don't want to play this game." He stood and paced to the window, feeling very restless and irritated.
"I'm sorry, Kralin. I didn't mean to upset you, and I know this is difficult for you."
"Why didn't you write me sooner? Why didn't you call? Why did father have to do it for you?"
Jharis gathered up the pawns and the game board. "I already told you."
&nbs
p; "Mother, you haven't written me for several years. You used to, remember? Why did you stop?"
"You never wrote me back."
"Yes I did. Not all the time, but I did write once in awhile."
"Kralin, four sentences is not a letter. That's a short message. I have them saved, all three of them from the first decade after you left. The last ten years you haven't written anything, so I stopped because it just hurt too much." Jharis fixed her son with an accusatory gaze. "Do you know what it's like to consistently to reach out to your own flesh and blood and have them refuse you over and over again? I might as well have lost both my sons in that attack on Beta Erendii, but somehow your loss was the greater one."
Kralin shook his head and marched for the door. "I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"Kralin, please –" Jharis implored him, but he was already gone. She laid back against her pillows and closed her eyes to stop the tears. It took all of her strength to hurl the game board and pawns off her lap. The board struck the wall with a dull thud and then bounced into the far corner, while the pawns clattered to the floor like spent artillery shells.
( 4 )
Kralin plunked down his empty stein and motioned for the waiter to bring him another. It would be his third. After leaving his parents' home that afternoon he'd wandered around Neyart, trying to calm himself, but the more he reviewed the conversation with his mother, the angrier he became. It didn't help that she'd made a valid point, that she was right when she accused Kralin of shutting her out all those years ago. This was exactly the confrontation he'd wanted to avoid, but her revelation about the precarious state of the family business had upset Kralin more than he wanted to admit.
He realized afterwards that the one he'd really wanted to confront was his father. It was all the worse because Jharis didn't have any real facts, just hints from different conversations, so Kralin was imagining the worst. How far in debt was his father? Did he owe just the depository or was he a gambler like his younger brother? Chresiff had once come to Farak years ago begging for assistance with his massive debt. Farak had refused him, and, as far as Kralin knew, the brothers had not spoken since. But the more he thought about that, the more ridiculous it seemed. His father was many things, but Kralin was fairly certain that he wasn't a fool like Chresiff.
