Tree of Life

by Sarah Joy Green-Hart

  A momentous thing had occurred. Marriage. Hesper married a Meros—willingly.

  This might be an unpleasant day. Cole and Adahy might be the same people, but Cole did not act Unified. He carried himself like a Meros man. Would he treat her the way Adahy would have? Her belly grew queasy.

  Maybe she had made a mistake—an enormous mistake.

  Ginger tea would be nice for her stomach.

  Marriage was overrated.

  The first day of marriage—definitely overrated.

  It was too late now.

  Cole opened the door to their home and allowed her to walk in ahead of him.

  How pale and flushed she looked in the long mirror on the wall. How could she be both? Her mouth open to plead with him for consideration, she turned around.

  “Do we have ging—?”

  He took her gently by the waist and drew her to himself.

  This was okay. It was not what she expected, but it was okay. Nice, even. She closed her mouth. What did she expect? She had never considered it, really.

  He unclasped their hands to caress her cheek and administer several blessedly tender kisses on her lips. It settled her stomach far better than ginger tea would have, even as it unsettled her heart.

  This was, most certainly, not a mistake. Tears may have been plentiful, but poetry made a lot more sense since leaving the woods. It seemed the only way to describe her reality right now. It was . . . bathing in hot water, drinking warm milk, and staring into a fire.

  She had her answer for David, and it was not puppy breath and cheesy noodles.

  He didn’t smell like only spice today, but a fir tree. Much stronger than whiffs she would catch in the forest, but what a peaceful, familiar—wait. Why did he stop kissing her? She opened her eyes and sorted a smile out of the emotional chaos. His lazily serene face warmed her. More than anything, she wished he would kiss her again. Still, warm, masculine hands on her face and waist were enough goodness for one person. Overindulgence bred wastefulness.

  "I’ve been aching to get my lips on you for two years.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I want to kiss you again, but I don’t want to be overbearing.”

  She smiled. "I was thinking how I wish you would, and that I should not be greedy or indulge myself by asking.”

  "Our virtues are a little too virtuous.” His lips touched her cheek. "You deserve a few indulgences, and I intend to indulge you so often, you’ll begin to feel entitled to it.”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the simple pleasure of his touch—lawful touch. With kisses as soft as mullein leaf, his lips grazed her cheeks and eyelids, her forehead.

  It was silly to think, but she could take his hand and touch her face with it all day long. As she reached for his hand, he stopped and pulled his face away from her. She opened her eyes, frowning, aching for his face to be near hers. Was he teasing her?

  "Are you crying?” he asked, amused, perplexed. Concerned?

  "Is that not normal?”

  "If it’s not, it should be.” He smiled.

  Adahy. He was here. It was him—her precious friend.

  Hesper whispered, "I do not know what is happening exactly. This is not what I expected or learned about. This must—I will sound stupid—this must be how the sunrise would feel if it were sentient.”

  "Hesper! Listen to my Unified woman waxing poetic!”

  She reached up to touch his smile. He closed his eyes, kissing her fingertips.

  "Is there a moon rise, too?” she asked.

  His lively, delighted expression startled her.

  "Your face!” she laughed. "Is that because of what I said?”

  He scooped her into his arms with a rakish grin.

  "No more of this treetops-in-the-way torture?” She laughed.

  "Ab-so-lutely not.”

  Twenty-Four | Post-Conquest: 232

  Sunlight struggled against thick white curtains, saturating them with a warm glow and peeking out through the sides. The muted light rested on Cole’s beautiful face. Hesper smiled and sidled up to his body and nestled her cold nose between his jaw and neck to warm it up. The arm she lay on came to life and curled around her. Cole smacked his lips and rumbled out the first of his morning voice.

  "So, it was.”

  "What was what?”

  "The most sensational experience of my life.” He brought his free hand to where hers lay across his chest and held it. "Holding your strong, healing hands, that is.”

  She laughed. "I do not know why, but hearing you say that made my heart pound.”

  "I know.” He kissed her forehead. "But”—he kissed her again—"the rest of you killed me, and I went to whatever spirit home the dead go to. I’m dead to any and all sensations experienced apart from you.”

  A giggle escaped her lips. She stifled it and pressed her face into the pillow.

  "Still blushing?” He sounded surprised.

  "You know very well that I am!” She laughed and kissed his prickly jaw. "You smell of fir trees and morning skin.”

  "Morning skin? You’ve got me there. What’s morning skin?”

  "Skin smells different right after waking up. I like yours.”

  "Does it taste different, too?” He aligned his face with hers and kissed her.

  She whispered, "This makes me feel—”

  "Well, naturally.” He breathed a laugh and kissed the corner of her mouth, his hand tracing her spine.

  “No.” Her throat tightened.

  On to her jaw.

  "It makes me feel I am a part of nature in a way I never have been before.”

  Her ear.

  “As if I can just—”

  Brushing her hair away, he kissed her neck.

  "Exist without worrying about anything else. No concern about my purpose or about . . . life or death. It makes things seem . . . hazy.” She swallowed. "It is hard to talk when you do that, you know.”

  He propped himself on his elbow. "Do what?”

  "Things that feel nice.”

  He chuckled. "You are a delightful person to love and be loved by, Hesper.”

  "I get the feeling I must be doing something strange.”

  "Not strange. Just perfect.”

  She eyed him. He spared her feelings, not wanting her to know she was odd.

  "Vincent has told me about worship,” she said. "I think I have worshiped a flower by touching it gently, worshiped a child by kissing their small head, worshiped a scent by appreciating it.” She held his face in her hand and tucked his hair behind his ear. "Is this worship, Cole?”

  He appeared thoughtful. "Worship is, by definition, reverence and adoration.” His fingertips tickled her shoulder. "I experienced a great deal of reverence and adoration for you even before we married. It seems natural to carry that over into new expressions of our affection and aspects of our relationship.” Another kiss for her lips. "Thank you for trusting me, dear friend.”

  Heat flooded her face. "I think marriage will be hard on my cheeks.”

  Cole relaxed on his pillow. "Look what I found.” He grabbed something near her head. A chicory flower. "We probably have a mess of them all over the bed.”

  She kissed his cheek.

  "I don’t want to get up. Ever,” he said.

  "I do.”

  "That’s too bad. We may need a compromise. I propose we lay here and imagine it, then stay to serve ourselves bed-tea.”

  "Bed-tea?”

  "You know, where you have tea right after waking up? I’ll take a strong infusion of your chamomile kisses and an ungodly-sized mugful of your cayenne ones. Keeps sickness away.” He frowned. "What? If hot water is the issue, we can take a bath.”

  "We have probably missed breakfast.”

  "I’m overcome with grief. I’ll take the tea now.” He puckered his lips like a little boy.

  "My stomach is eating itself,” she retorted. "You should be overcome with grief.”

  He rolled out of bed with a great sigh that morphed into a groan, the
n shuffled off to the bathroom.

  On the table beside the bed, the betrothal token and rhodonite necklace lay half in the shadow and half in the glow of sunlight. In this somewhat fortunate turn of events, the reality of a fresh murder still hung over her head. Murdered only a week ago, Jade appeared to be dishonored due to the edict of a tyrant.

  No grief.

  She’d forgotten. No grief. Hesper had thought David showed a lack of self-respect, but, truly, he grieved in a way the Kyrios accepted. Poor David.

  Cole strode into the room, clothed and hair brushed.

  "Cole.”

  "Hm?”

  "I am sure Jade made friends with anyone. I do not presume to have been special to her. I have learned that I trust and love too fast, and her manner was to ask for love and trust immediately. Though, my concern was one of justice as much as affection.”

  Cole sat on the bed. "That sounds like her—and you.”

  "She kept me level-headed during the first couple of days and probably saved my life, keeping me from doing something foolish. She is special to me and the injustice is disturbing.” She scooched over and grabbed the rhodonite necklace from the table to look it over, feeling its smooth surface. “How can I preserve her memory, Cole? Is there a way? How can I grieve without grieving? How are you doing it?”

  Cole’s eyes dulled, and his smile faded.

  "Never mind. I should not bring it up.”

  "No, no.” He touched her hand. "That’s a good question. Bottled up grief is unhealthy.” Gesturing to himself, he said, "I have turned to prayer. Jade was a good friend to me.

  "I knelt and offered my emotions to the being who gave me the ability to feel them. I thanked God for allowing me to know someone that was so painful to lose, and I thanked It for a decent sense of justice.”

  That would not do it for Hesper. Neither would tears. She had cried herself out in the Bastion and did not need more of that.

  "David drinks and smokes, you pray, but what is there for me? I have no belief in this god. I cannot turn to It and feel I have done anything lasting.”

  "What do the Unified do?”

  "You know.”

  "‘Course I do!” He smiled. "I want you to think about it.”

  The Unified buried their dead, grieved, but carried on working to survive. They taught their children the truth: loved ones were gone, and their bodies would decay and become a part of the soil, feeding the trees and plants that ensured the Unified’s safety and health.

  Jade’s memory concerned Hesper. Impotent tears were not as honorable as actions taken to preserve the dead in the earth and the mind of the living.

  "You have your afterlife,” she said, "and Vincent barred Jade’s way to it because he did not allow you to use this death-light, correct?”

  "Yes, that’s what many believe. The Kyrios create the lightless flame—no one knows how—and sell it for funerary purposes. Her journey to the afterlife would have been in the smoke.”

  "I will give her a Unified afterlife. I will gather some of her remains and bury it by the apple tree. She will live in the tree.”

  "That’s a good idea for her and for you.” He patted her hand. "I’ll get breakfast and bring it back. We’ll do it after we eat. Sound good?”

  * * *

  After Hesper honored Jade, she and Cole spent the morning seated on the sofa, looking out on the spring blossoms in the backyard. Lorelei brought them black tea and an assortment of fresh, spicy cookies, but they spent the rest of the time alone. Cole read portions of his favorite books aloud, and here and there they canoodled the day away in a pleasant nest of contentment and cuddles.

  Early in the afternoon, Cole took up a pen and a small slip of paper from his desk. "I feel like writing a poem. . . For you.”

  He held the paper on a book, pen in hand, poised to write, and drew a few tiny circles in the air above the spot he intended to write on, preparing. "My wife is as beautiful”—examining her, he twisted his mouth—"as a . . . as a storm.” Neat, sharp, and slanted, his words resembled letters she understood, but they were connected to each other in a way she was not familiar with.

  He studied her, leaning forward to breathe in the scent of her hair, then reclined and wrote. "The smell of glory is in her hair.”

  A light tap on the door interrupted their peace.

  Cole focused on the paper. "Come in.”

  "The door was ajar, otherwise I wouldn’t have dared to bother you.” David entered the room and stood in front of them. He took his hat off. "Cole, the Kyrios want to see you today, at your leisure. It’s good.”

  "At my leisure?”

  "Okay. As soon as possible.”

  "That’s what I thought. What’s going on?”

  "I guess you’ll have to ask them.”

  "David, are you okay?”

  "With what?”

  Cole shrugged. "With life and all of its wonders?”

  "I’m fine.”

  Cole quirked an eyebrow. "Okay.”

  David huffed and swiped at his nose. "Evelyn left. Hired someone to deliver papers for a divorce and left.”

  "Divorce!” Hesper cried. "How can she do that?” Especially now. Heart racing, she glanced at Cole. Having been so close to someone, how could anyone ever part casually?

  "They require nothing of her? Allowing divorce for trivial reasons necessitates counteraction. A man and woman should hold each other and mourn the loss of their unity first. I imagine that you would have very few of these separations if they required this.”

  Her face blazed with embarrassment. Who was she to make these assumptions and tell people what they ought to do?

  David smiled. "You’re probably right, sweetheart. I hope you are of that mind forever.” He turned to Cole. "You have a warrior of silk, Cole. I hope you deserve her. But watch out, she has a kinship with dear Kali in the parlor.” He grinned and finally relaxed.

  "Kali?” Hesper asked.

  “The blue woman—well, she’s often black, but in my parlor, she’s blue.”

  “What is she?”

  "Goddess of destruction. Ancient religion. Perhaps you can convince Kali to destroy this whole blasted system.”

  “Goddess?”

  “Female god,” Cole explained. “It’s not real, Hesper. Only a story.”

  David snickered. “Perhaps.” Looking at Cole, he grew serious quickly. “Sorry. Let’s just say that I’ve not had an experience with either, so I profess an equal level of faith in both.”

  “This does not make sense. I thought they said the Meros were favored because of their belief in God. Will your disbelief cause your god to turn on you or your people?”

  "I don’t know. I take that story as a legend to be—” David’s eyes turned to Cole again. He stopped, swallowed hard, and nodded.

  “Why do you keep stopping when you look at Cole?”

  David put his hands in front of him. “I’m a bad influence it seems.” Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m the only one my disbelief will destroy, Hesper.” He smiled. “And I’ve made peace with that. But if the nations of the east went on a suicide mission and pulled their ridiculously old nuclear weapons out of hiding to break through God’s favor to nail us, I’d stand outside with arms wide open to give the boom a hug before I died—say! Did you catch how that rhymed?” He smiled and sighed. "It won’t happen. They hate us, but the Unified once made this the most powerful nation in the world, and the Kyrios shut us off and blocked trade, except for a few select companies and countries. Now, most of them couldn’t trade with us even if we wanted them to. They fell apart. They could never attack us.” He pointed at Cole. "He can back me up. He’s traveled more than I have—hunting for his precious forbidden books—but we’ve both seen it.”

  “I’m rambling, though. It’s what I do best when facing what I like least.”

  Cole cleared his throat. "I’m sorry, Dave.”

  David raised up one side of his mouth in a flippant smirk and snorted a laugh. "We all expec
ted it, didn’t we? When Evelyn learned that we couldn’t have children, she wanted someone to mother, and I wouldn’t have it be me.” He set his hat back on his head. "Maybe we could’ve made things work out if I didn’t have the other ladies around, riling her up.”

  He shrugged and gave Hesper one more look. "Thank you for your concern and pure heart, Hesper.” With nothing else to say, he nodded and sauntered off.

  Cole stood. "I may as well get this over with.”

  "What might they want you for?”

  "Could be anything. I teach and counsel and do a host of things for them. If it’s good news, it’s an assignment elsewhere.”

  "With me?”

  "That can be worked out.” He took off his t-shirt to get into uniform. "Especially under the circumstances.”

  * * *

  Dressed casually in a black Y-neck shirt and jeans, Vincent welcomed Cole into his office with a warm smile and brotherly embrace. It was unusual to see him like this. He always had a gold stud in his left ear, but his collar bone showing? The gold chain hanging there? This was Vince at home, not at work.

  What in blazes was the lech up to?

  Vincent’s age did not exceed Cole’s by more than ten years, but repeated childhood illnesses, work, and war had taken a toll on him, so he appeared considerably older. However, despite his mature look and peppery gray-black hair, his mannerisms and emotional face possessed a pleasing youthful quality.

  "It’s been some time since we’ve talked, Cole.” Vincent spoke in a less authoritative voice than usual.

  "A few days, Glorious One.”

  "That’s business. Unpleasant business. I meant that it’s been a while for friendly conversation, one-on-one. Sit.”

  Cole obeyed and sat in the hard metal folding chair.

  Vincent took a small tin and whisk from a cabinet as he spoke. “So, married, huh? I never thought I’d see that happen. You were always so choosy. Even years ago, when we went out looking for company for an evening, you often seemed to spot some Gentle slave girl in the corner. We’d encourage you to make arrangements with her owner, you’d refuse, then turn down every other option available and go home early.” Vincent laughed. “She’s an impressive woman, though. I’ll give you that. Very spirited, but in a . . . subtle way. Perhaps a Gentle wife is the way for me to go. They’re more pliable.”