by Julia Crane
She ran a toothbrush over her teeth and a brush through her hair, and then joined her family in the kitchen.
“Where’s Nailah?” Callie asked as she plopped into a chair at the table.
“I asked her to run next door and check on Madeline and Willow,” Emma replied. She had a pan over the stove fire and a spoon inside, stirring. “I’m making biscuits and gravy. Sound good?”
“Delicious.” Callie smiled at Gran, who had one of the solid red tomes from the corner bookshelf open on the tabletop beside a mug. “What are you reading?”
“It’s one of those busty romance novels.” Gran chuckled. “Didn’t think they’d have those here.”
“Shouldn’t there be a half-naked girl clinging to a shirtless guy on the cover?”
Gran flipped to the back of the book and offered it across the table to Callie. “Someone here in Aionia wrote it.”
Callie scanned the “About the Author” page. According to the blurb, Charlotte Rossier was a long-time resident of Aionia and had never been published until landing in Aionia. She lived with her daughter nearby. “Wow. That’s kinda cool. Is it any good?”
“Just as good as any I ever read back home.” Gran took a sip of coffee, and buried her nose in the book.
“Are you still meeting that boy for lunch?” Emma asked as she lifted the skillet from the burner and began to carefully pour the hot gravy in a bowl.
“Yeah.” Just the thought made Callie’s heart beat a little faster. “I’m nervous.”
“Just be yourself, baby.” Emma set the gravy on the table, her eyes twinkling. “Any guy who doesn’t like the real Calista isn’t worth your time.”
“Let’s just hope he shows me the real Alaric,” Callie said, thinking of Jonathan.
Callie’d had every intention of walking all the way to the government building, and she’d managed to make it several blocks until a passing Cruiser pulled over and stopped. It was the blonde-haired female from the rescue team that had found Callie and the rest of the survivors.
“Need a ride?” she asked with a big, white smile. Her accent screamed American South with the “i” longer than the L&N railway. She had a strand of ginger freckles across her pale cheekbones and a beauty mark above her upper lip.
“Totally!” Callie hopped into the Cruiser, and they pulled back onto the street. The Cruisers didn’t go very fast, Callie had noticed, but it was definitely faster than walking. “I’m Callie.”
“Josie,” the soldier answered, offering a hand. When Callie shook it, the woman’s grip was strong. She was wearing the same kind of cotton T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up as the night of the crash; she had some serious muscles for such a little woman. “Where you goin’?”
“The temple?”
“Parliament,” Josie corrected with a wry grin. “Aionia is so ageless that we ain’t really sure who built it or when, but one running theory is some form of Central American Indians. Apparently, their old cities must have been laid out like this one with a central temple and the strategic roads.”
“Like the spokes of a wheel,” Callie cut in, proud she had something to comment on. She gripped the “suicide handle” above her head as they hit a rough patch in the road.
Josie grinned, her hair whipping around her face as she glanced over at Callie. “Right. Only, we don’t use the temple as some kind of sacrificial, spiritual building. It’s just the government building. You can call it Parliament. What’s your business there? Last I heard, you only took the job placement test yesterday.”
For a brief moment, Callie wondered if the soldier knew about her fib on the test, but she brushed it off as ridiculous. “Um. Lunch with a friend.”
As the word “friend” left Callie’s mouth, Josie turned the car into the central courtyard, and they both noticed Alaric propped against the stones of the temple. “Ah,” Josie said slyly. She pulled the Cruiser into a parking spot along the wall and cut it. “Lunch with my little brother, huh?”
“Oh. You’re related to Alaric?”
“That I am.” Josie let her hands flutter to her lap and seemed to weigh her words. Callie glanced over her shoulder to see Alaric coming toward them. Josie chuckled, but when she spoke, her voice was serious. “He’s a good guy, my little bro. Just…be careful with him. He’s got a big heart, and he’s been hurt before.”
Callie didn’t have a chance to reply. Alaric appeared at his sister’s door and gave her a fond grin. “Thank you for bringing Callie to me.”
Josie glanced at Callie, who nodded and agreed. “My pleasure. You kids have fun. I’ve got a meeting with Darren.”
After his sister started across the quad, Alaric turned back to Callie with his hands shoved in his pockets. “I wasn’t sure you were going to show up.”
“Am I late?” Callie asked, horrified. “It’s hard to tell without clocks.”
“You’re not late. I was just anxious to see you again.” Alaric’s grin made her heart flutter. She still couldn’t believe such a gorgeous specimen was interested in her. “I see you met my sister?”
“She’s nice. You don’t talk with the same twang.”
Alaric nodded. “Our parents were killed when we were just kids. Josie was raised by our mother’s family in Georgia. I was raised by my dad’s family in Pennsylvania.”
“I take it you were together when you…” Callie trailed off; she didn’t know how to broach the subject. Was it taboo? To talk about the crash that landed someone in Aionia?
“It’s okay, Callie,” Alaric told her. He briefly touched her wrist where it hung at her side. “Most people here don’t mind talking about the way they got here. And yes, I was with Josie when we came here.”
“Plane crash?”
He shook his head. “Boat. I was accompanying my sister on a mission trip.”
“So…how does that work? Did the boat…sink?”
Alaric held an elbow out and it took Callie a moment to realize he meant for her to take it. “I thought we would walk to Sally’s for lunch. It’s a heck of a lot nicer than the government cafeteria, plus she makes the best chicken pot pie in Aionia. Even better than my grandmother’s old recipe.”
Callie slipped an arm into his. His blue cotton shirt was soft and warm—it brought out the color of his eyes. She was glad he hadn’t taken her hand; her nerves were going haywire. Already, her palms were sweaty.
“Not all boats that arrive in Aionia sink,” Alaric went on, answering her previous question. “Ours actually just sailed on through, as if it were aiming for this island.”
“Lucky,” Callie said.
“Yes, I know.” He squeezed his arm around her hand, shooting her an apologetic look. “I heard your crash was a particularly bad one.”
As they stepped onto a side street, merchants waved and smiled, some of them even greeting Alaric by name. Callie had to admit the feeling of acceptance in Aionia was nice. In San Diego, you were lucky if your fast food cashier bothered to look in your eyes and acknowledge your existence, much less smile.
Alaric led her to a small café. The smell of fresh baked bread greeted her as they stepped through the open door, and her mouth watered. Someone had tried hard to give Sally’s a bit of life—the walls were painted bright yellow and hung with pretty, cerulean-themed paintings. The two large windows flanking the door let in more light than usual. There were several people already seated in the restaurant, and they all smiled or nodded as Callie followed her date to a back corner table.
“The usual, Alaric?” A plump woman with short brown hair pulled out a small notebook as she sidled up to the table.
“The usual.”
“How about you? What will it be?” She looked at Callie.
“Well, Alaric tells me you make the best chicken pot pie. I want to compare it to Cracker Barrel’s and see if it’s true.” Callie grinned so the woman would know she was just kidding.
“What’s a Cracker Barrel?” the woman asked.
Callie’s eyebrows furrowed. “A
ren’t you from America?”
“Yes, I’m from Tennessee.”
“And you’ve never heard of Cracker Barrel?” Callie gaped at the waitress. “There’s a least one in every town. It’s the best southern cooking around.”
The woman’s eyes flicked to Alaric. “I’ll get those meals right out to you,” she said, and hurried off.
“Okay, that was weird. I feel like I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.”
“What’s the twilight zone?”
“It’s a TV—never mind. You wouldn’t get it.”
Alaric picked up the clay pitcher in the center of the table and poured water into Callie’s glass. “How are you adjusting? It usually takes people a couple of months to come to terms with their new lives.”
“I hate that phrase.” Callie sighed and crossed her hands on the table. “My life is the same—it’s not a new life. I’m just in a different place.”
“You have a point.” Alaric smiled.
“My family seems to be adjusting well. It pisses me off. I don’t see how they can just accept being stuck here.” Callie leaned forward on her elbows and lowered her voice. “There has to be a way out.”
Alaric reached across the table and took her hand as he murmured, “Callie, you have to stop talking like that. If anyone heard you, it could cause trouble.”
“What do you mean trouble? Am I not allowed to have my own thoughts?”
“Of course you are. It’s just—the parliament has to keep order. And if someone was talking about finding a way out, it could lead to an uprising. I’m telling you there is no way to leave this island. Please…let it rest before it gets you in trouble.”
Callie pulled her hand away, her anger rising. “Is that a threat?”
Alaric’s laugh boomed. “Of course not. I would never let anything happen to you. Just be careful where you talk about these things. Or with whom. Talk to me about them, but in private.”
They were interrupted as Sally placed steaming pot pies in front of them.
“Wow! That was fast,” Callie said, her stomach growling as she stared hungrily at the golden crust.
“You’re welcome,” Sally said, beaming. The woman’s round cheeks were flushed with the heat of the oven. “We aim to please.”
The pies smelled amazing. Sally watched in amusement as Callie sunk her fork in and took a big bite. She closed her eyes to savor the taste. “You weren’t lying. Ohmigod, this is incredible.”
Sally smiled. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Let me know if you need anything.”
“So, Callie, tell me about yourself,” Alaric said after the woman walked away. He had crumbs from the flaky pastry crust stuck to the corner of his mouth.
Callie found it endearing and wanted to kiss them away. With her previous forays into kissing including a New Guinea tribes-boy and a piece of cheating scum, Callie wasn’t too sure about trying again.
“World traveler. Not a student, no job to speak of, just a traveler,” she answered, making the split-second decision that she couldn’t share the truth of her travels with him.
“Sounds fun.” Alaric grinned, and then took a sip of his water. “I didn’t get to travel much before I ended up here, unfortunately.”
“It’s never too late.”
“Yeah, it is,” he answered, his smile falling. “Callie, you can’t psyche yourself out by holding on to a dream. Aionia is your home now. You need to make the most of it.”
They both lapsed into silence.
I am sick and tired of being reprimanded, Callie thought bitterly, shoving her fork into her pot pie. Maybe this date wasn’t such a good idea.
“So, is your dad back home?” Alaric asked into the silence between them.
Callie could hear by his light tone that he was trying to alleviate the tension, but mention of her father always brought her down. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” Alaric moved his fork around in his pie before he answered. “Mine, too.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Callie recalled what he’d said on the way to the restaurant. Our parents were killed when we were just kids.
“Guess we have that in common, then, huh?” Callie said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Alaric shrugged. “Life happens. Did he die in the crash?”
Callie laughed; the connection to his words and what had actually happened was just bizarre. “Not my crash, but a crash. He was killed by a drunk driver. What about your parents?”
His jaw hardened. “Murder.”
Her fork hit her plate and the clang echoed loudly. “Wow.”
He shrugged. “Yes. A robbery gone bad. They were on a trip. In London. Their vehicle was hijacked. They were both stabbed and left to die.”
This date just went from bad to worse, Callie thought, aghast.
Alaric laughed. “Jesus, Callie. We shouldn’t be so morbid. Let’s talk about something nice. Do you have any hobbies?”
Callie flashed back to the form she’d had to fill out for her work assignment, and how irritated she’d been about the hobbies question. She shrugged. “Um, I don’t really have any. I like to read and I used to journal.”
“Journaling is cool,” Alaric said, his cheeks going pink. “I journal.”
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Alaric chuckled. “Don’t tell anybody.”
“I lost mine in the crash, though.” Remembering her simple black journal and how much it had meant to her depressed Callie. She wanted to throw her plate against the wall.
“That sucks.” Alaric chewed his food thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed. “Why don’t we go find you a new one?”
Callie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making a face. “I don’t have any money yet. It’ll have to wait until after I start work.”
“Do you have your assignment yet?”
“Not yet.”
Alaric took a bite and grinned as he chewed. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to buy it for you.”
The stationary store was so tiny Callie would have missed it if she’d been on her own, but Alaric knew just where it stood.
It was run by a wizened old lady with cropped gray hair and big brown eyes. She greeted them with a “Buenos dias!” and then turned back to the book open on the counter before her.
“This is where I’ve bought journals for as long as I’ve been here,” Alaric told Callie, his voice soft. The store had a kind of hushed, respectful quiet to it that garnered low voices.
“How many journals have you used? You’re only like eighteen!” Callie said, amused.
Alaric smiled benignly. “I like to write.”
He led her to the right wall where the window illuminated a bookcase of journals of all shapes and sizes in every color of the spectrum.
“They’re all handmade. Obviously.” Alaric laughed. “Everything in Aionia is handmade.”
Callie ran her fingertips down the spines of one shelf. “I actually prefer handmade things.”
“Really? From the girl who prefers the old world and refuses to accept Aionia?” He cocked a brow, his lips quirked into an amused grin.
She shrugged, suitably chastised. Hooking a finger into the top of a thin black journal, she pulled it from the shelf. “Okay, so I like modern conveniences like the internet and indoor plumbing and I’m ridiculously fond of fast food.” She paused, running a palm over the soft leather skin of the book, and then lifted her eyes to his. “But, there’s something innately magical about handmade things.”
Alaric’s ice-blue eyes sparkled at her, a half-smile on his handsome face. He lifted a hand and paused just a moment before he gently touched her cheek. “I think there’s two different people inside you, Callie.”
She warmed beneath his touch, and her heart skipped a beat.
He leaned forward, angling her face down as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. When he pulled away, he searched her face for a long moment before he murmured, “You’re beautiful. You know t
hat?”
Speechless, Callie just shook her head.
“So,” Alaric said, grinning. “Is that the one?”
Callie didn’t bother to look down at the journal in her hands; her eyes were on him. “Yeah. It’s the one.”
Several days passed before they received their work assignments. Four official envelopes with the red “Aionia Official” stamp showed up in the small white mailbox early one morning.
“Nailah,” Emma said, glancing at the front of the envelopes as she divvied them out at the breakfast table. “Calista, Belinda, and me.” She sat down in her chair before her half-eaten breakfast of fruit and toast. “Open up, ladies.”
Callie ripped open the envelope and pulled out a thick sheet of cream-colored paper. She unfolded it and stared, dumbfounded, at her placement. “Record-keeper. For the parliament.”
“Are you serious? Calista, you don’t know anything about secretarial services,” Emma said, raising an eyebrow. “How in the world did you get placed in the government building? I can’t imagine they’d just take some new teen off the street.”
“Off a plane wreck,” Callie corrected. “Maybe they just happened to need a new errand girl.”
“Nailah, what did you get, love?” Gran asked, holding her own opened letter.
“I’m to work for the city greenhouses,” Nailah said with stars in her eyes. “Gardening.”
“That’s wonderful, Nailah!” Emma said. She leaned to give the girl a hug. “I’m so glad you got something you enjoy.”
Callie grinned. “That’s awesome, girl. What about you, Mom?”
The smile on her mother’s face was beautiful. “They’re going to train me to be a teacher. How ‘bout you, Gran?”
Gran smiled sheepishly. “They didn’t place me. ‘Due to the high number of family members in your household, you’ve been cleared to choose your own position, if you so choose.’ I guess I get to pick?” She handed the sheet to Emma, who glanced over it.
“Yeah, that’s what it looks like. Because of your age, I suppose.”
