Iris followed her mother up the stairway, feeling apprehensive; she was so used to Angharad’s finding fault with her that she was already trying to think of what she could have done.
They entered Angharad’s room. Iris sat in the straight-backed chair near the window while her mother seated herself next to the small screen on her desk. Angharad looked rested; the rose-colored blouse she wore lent some color to her face. “Don’t look so woeful. Iris. I know I’ve said some hard things to you, but you’re a good child, a good daughter. You seem to be settling down lately.”
Iris relaxed, leaning back in her chair.
“Chen seems a decent young man,” Angharad continued. “He’s not idle, he’s been doing his job at the town hall, and he’s been a very pleasant guest these past three weeks. Of course, he isn’t very talkative, but I don’t suppose you mind that.”
Iris kept her face still. Angharad would be surprised if she knew how many conversations she and Chen had shared, and what they had discussed. She could share her thoughts with him as she had with no one else, and the words he had never been able to utter with others had spilled from him in a stream of whispers as they huddled together in her bed. Unlike Jon, he did not distract her from her lessons; he had made a game of her studies instead, refusing to yield to her caresses until she had finished her work. She was growing as close to him as she had ever been to anyone.
There was danger in that, she knew. Only the night before, he had frightened her with his intensity and a whispered, repeated phrase. “I love you,” he had said, “I love you, I can’t leave you, I want you with me.” She had not even protested the words, the impossible demand. Already, she was beginning to dread the time when he would have to leave.
“LaDonna even says that he treats Mira and Tyree as if — well, he’s very good to her children,” Angharad said. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Tyree will be old enough to leave us before long, and Mira and Sylvie will be the only children left in the house. Constance is hoping to have another, but I don’t know if the Counselor —”
Angharad paused and picked up the carving Chen had made for her, smiling as she gazed at her own face captured in the wood. Iris frowned. The carved Angharad, with its strong chin and wide, blank eyes, had an appearance of stubborn foolishness; it was the look of a woman proud of her ignorance and obstinacy, yet her mother did not seem to notice the subtle criticism.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Angharad said. “He’s doing one of LaDonna now. Maria’s longing for one. Chen could probably sell these here and make a little bit — they’re much nicer than holo portraits, more personal.”
“You were saying,” Iris began tentatively. “Are you planning another child?”
A sigh escaped her mother’s lips. “I have a few hopes. You know Ronell Tinas. I sometimes think of having one with him. He comes through here often enough to see his relatives. And I’m only thirty-two, so —” Angharad sighed again. “I wish the Counselor would just tell me to go ahead, but —” She set the carving on her desk. “There’s nothing to stop you, though. I thought perhaps you might consider it.”
Iris tensed. “I’m not ready.”
“I was about your age when I became pregnant with you, and without much more experience. You’d have plenty of help, because Lilia’s Sylvie is over a year old and Constance isn’t likely to get approval before next year. It might be good to have the group of children grow up together.”
Iris twisted her hands together, feeling trapped. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“I thought you were quite taken with Chen. Is there something I don’t know?”
Iris shook her head.
“Then I don’t see the problem. He’s a good man, and he’d bring some new genes into our line. He hasn’t gone near anyone else for the past two weeks, so he must think something of you.” Angharad rested an elbow on her desk. “These early days with a man, they’re the best. You never quite recapture them afterward. They’re even better to recall when you have a new life inside you.”
“Chen might not want a child,” Iris said.
“Don’t be silly. Why shouldn’t he? Any normal man does. He’ll be flattered that you think enough of him to bear his child, bring something of him into the world.”
Iris was not so sure. She knew Chen’s thoughts, his dream of leaving Earth again. He might not want to leave his child behind. “Anyway,” she said, “I don’t know if I want a child yet. I might want to travel first, like Julia.”
“How?” Angharad struck the desk with a fist. “Julia had a skill and was needed somewhere else for a while. There are mind-tours if you want to travel, and you wouldn’t have all the trouble and expense of moving around. I don’t understand you, Iris. I thought you were finally getting some sense into your head. Julia didn’t have to tell me when it was time to have a child — I knew.”
Iris wrapped her arms around herself. A child would bind her to the farm forever, and she would not even have the consolation of Chen’s occasional visits if he managed to get back to the Islands.
“What’s wrong with you?” Angharad went on. “Don’t you care about our line? Do you want Elisabeth’s descendants to be its only branch? A line is stronger when there are many branches, and ours —” She paused. “We have only three generations of my line in this house, thanks to my mother’s foolishness in waiting so long to have me. We need another generation, and I want to see great-grandchildren someday.” She waved a hand. “Look at you, in that old shirt and pants, with all your hair pulled back in that plain way — you don’t even try to make yourself attractive to men. How soon do you think you’ll get another good man in your bed?”
Iris was wounded. “Chen thinks I’m pretty,” she burst out.
“Then take advantage of that. Oh, Iris, I don’t mean to be cruel. I just know that when you have a child, things will seem different to you. You’ll be proud of bringing a new life into the world. You won’t be so lost in your own thoughts. You value those lessons of yours so much — well, you’ll have a child to tell them to, if you want. I don’t know if I’d like it, but I’d go along if you don’t addle its brain with too much learning. Those lessons of yours won’t be good for anything else except telling a child a few stories.”
“Don’t say that!” Iris screamed.
“Do you want the household to hear you?”
“I don’t care! You’re my mother, and you don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I think or what I feel and you don’t care as long as I don’t get in your way or make you look bad in front of your friends. You never wanted anything except this house and the farm.”
“Why should I feel ashamed of that?” Angharad replied. She wiped at her eyes with one sleeve, looking as if she was about to cry. “This has been our farm for generations. It’s you who don’t understand me. You treat everything I’ve done as if it’s worthless, and then accuse me of not loving you. Who do you think I’ve worked for? For Lincoln, for my household, for you. Everything I’ve done has been for others, even being on the town council or being mayor. It may help my household, but for me, it’s just more worry and more work.”
“You must get something from it for yourself,” Iris said.
“Not as much as you might think. Oh, I won’t say I don’t like the position, but if that was all there was to it, I’d have given up trying for it long ago. Don’t you see? I just want you to be happy, to have what I’ve had, to take some joy and pride in our line and our home.”
Angharad covered her face. Iris went to her quickly and clasped her hand. “Mother, I know. I shouldn’t have said what I did. But what if I want something else?”
Angharad looked up; her lashes were wet. “Think about it at least,” she murmured. “You might change your mind, and want a child. You could always travel later — I’d even pay for it myself if it’s what you really want. You’d probably find that you’d be glad to get back here.”
“I’ll think about it,” Iris said, feeling defe
ated by her mother’s tears.
Iris trudged through the snow, squinting in the bright, reflected light. The sun, white against the blue sky, was a cold flame emanating no warmth. Two old women were entering the church, clutching rosaries in their gloved hands; a small group of women and visiting men went into Lincoln’s only tavern. The shops were shuttered, the square empty except for one bundled figure moving in Iris’s direction. A mittened hand waved; Iris saw Laiza’s face under a fur hat.
Her friend hurried toward her, kicking up small clouds of snowflakes with her feet. “Iris!” Laiza grabbed her arms. “I was just going to your house, I wanted to tell you in person.”
“Tell me what?”
They linked arms as they walked toward the town hall. “You’ll never guess. I’m leaving Lincoln.”
Iris felt a sharp pang of envy. “How did you manage that?”
“My father. He just called me yesterday to tell me. He did some work in the Mountain States last year, and got to know this woman pretty well, and one thing led to another — anyway, the Linker this woman works for in Denver needs a tier gardener, and my father talked his friend into setting up an interview for me. The Linker just called me this morning. She asked a few questions, then said I could have the job this spring.”
“Oh, Laiza, that’s wonderful.” Iris tried to sound happy. Laiza’s job would not be too demanding. Machines could have done the work, or the Linker could have tended her own garden, but Linkers were busy people and having a human gardener was a sign of prestige. The gardeners also encouraged the belief that a garden would not fare well without human aid.
“I don’t know that much about the work,” Laiza said, “but I’ve worked in the greenhouse and it can’t be too different. The Linker seemed to think I knew enough, and I’ve got some time to learn a few things before I go. Anyway, the worst that can happen is she won’t like me and’ll send me back, so I’ll get a free trip and some credit out of it.”
“You’re lucky your father thought of you.”
“I know. Look, if it works out, maybe Angharad’ll let you visit. We could see Denver together. Just think of all the men!”
“You’d better be careful about that,” Iris replied. “Linkers are funny about sex. Some of them go for a long time without a lover. Some of them even have bonds.”
“I guess you’d know. Must be all that thinking they do.”
“And from what I’ve read and seen, some of the men in cities are different. Plainsmen know how to act around women. Some of the others — well, you wouldn’t want to know about some of the things they do.” Iris stumbled a little, then righted herself. “What does Maria think?”
“She’s kind of mad. She says I can go, but she thinks I’ll hate it. She’s sure I’ll come back, so she isn’t making that much of a fuss.”
They stamped up the cleared steps of the town hall and entered the warm building. The wide hall was empty, and the doors of the rooms on either side were closed. Little town business would be transacted here until Angharad’s inauguration, and meetings could be held over screens. In one sense, the town hall was an unnecessary relic, but the community enjoyed the ritual of gathering there for meetings or private chats with members of the council, and the hall could shelter visitors on those rare occasions when there was no space in anyone’s house.
The two young women took off their mittens and rubbed their hands. “Is Chen here?” Laiza asked.
“He’s probably in one of the rooms.”
“Peter thinks he’s funny-looking,” Laiza whispered, “but I think he’s handsome. He looks like he’s got a good body.”
“He does.”
Laiza giggled. “You like him a lot, don’t you?”
Iris lowered her eyelids. “I guess I do.”
“Going to have his child?”
“I don’t know. That’s what my mother wants. I don’t know if I’m ready for one yet.”
“You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.” Laiza smiled. “I might have had one myself if this gardening job hadn’t come along. Now I’ll have to wait. It doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ll wait until I’m nineteen or twenty. I guess I’d come home by then.”
“What if you like it in Denver?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t stay away forever.”
“I would,” Iris said fervently.
Laiza gaped at her, clearly surprised. “No you wouldn’t. You’d come back, just like your grandmother, just like everybody does.”
A door near the left corner of the hall opened and Chen came out, carrying his bag of tools. “Guess what?” Iris said. “Laiza’s going to Denver this spring.”
Chen grunted.
“I’m going to be a Linker’s gardener,” Laiza said. “You know what? I’m going over to the tavern and call all our friends and then I’m buying beer for everybody. Why don’t you both come over?”
“Have to work,” Chen said.
“Come by later, then. I’m going to be there until supper-time.” She glanced at Iris. “What about you?”
“I’ll come over in a little while, all right?”
“Oh, I see.” Laiza smirked. “A little fun with lunch, right?” She giggled. “Well, I’ll see you later.”
“Congratulations,” Chen said. Laiza flashed a toothy smile at him and then hurried outside.
“Laiza wouldn’t mind if you spent a night with her,” Iris said.
“You wouldn’t mind that?”
“Why should I mind?” she asked, surprised to find that she did. “She’s my friend.”
“Well, I don’t want to.”
The answer made her oddly happy. She wandered over to the room the Counselor used while visiting and bumped against the door when it did not open. “Something’s wrong with this door.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Chen replied. “It’s locked.”
“That door’s never been locked before.”
“It is now.” He paused. “Counselors have complained. They don’t like to come into a room and find things strewn around and have to clear their screens and memories because somebody forgot to do it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she protested. “We always leave everything neat in there.”
“Well, maybe you do, but some other towns don’t.”
“It’s dumb to lock up a room, have it sitting there not being used for most of the year.”
“I just do what they tell me.” He sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall.
She sat down next to him, taking out-a small package from one pocket and a covered cup from another. “I brought you some carrot sticks and a sandwich and some tea.” She handed him the package and set the cup on the floor, waiting for it to heat the tea. Chen unwrapped his food while she shrugged out of her coat. “You don’t have to worry about Constance pestering you for a while. A man she knows came by just before lunch today, and he’ll come back later tonight.”
“Good.” He bit into the bean sandwich.
“You ought to spend at least a night or two with one of the others. I mean, it’s making me look selfish.”
He clutched her arm with his free hand; his eyes seemed to bore through her. “Is that what you want?”
She shook her head.
“Then forget it.”
“It’s just that it’s harder for everybody in the winter. There aren’t as many men to choose from.”
“I love you, Iris. When you love somebody, you don’t want anyone else.”
She averted her eyes. “I know. I feel the same way. But it doesn’t last.”
“Sometimes it does.”
“It never does. It didn’t last with that woman you knew on the Islands.”
“It might have, if we could have stayed together. I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t love her as much as I thought I did. It’s different with you. I can tell you things I couldn’t tell her.”
She clenched her fists. “You’ll leave Lincoln, and we’ll both forget.”
“You don’t want me to leave.”
<
br /> “It doesn’t matter,” she cried. “Even if you stayed, it’d be over after a while.”
He put his arm around her; she leaned against him, resting her cheek on the soft flannel cloth of his gray shirt. “I could come back between jobs,” he said. “I could stay at your house with you.”
Her longing for him frightened her; she could hardly believe that she wanted him so much. “People would talk if you did that very often,” she said. “Not that I care,” she added hastily. “But you’d have to spend more of your credit here instead of staying at a hostel for nothing. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Other men come back here to visit.”
“But they have relatives or children, and they only come by once or twice a year at most.”
“I’d have you to visit.”
“You couldn’t come just to see me, Chen. It’d look strange if you didn’t go to other women’s rooms. Anyway, it would only be until you went back to the Islands.” She was silent for a moment, not wanting to dwell on that unhappy possibility.
He patted her head. “You combed out your hair.”
She lifted her head. “Do you like it better down?”
“I like it any way you want to wear it. The light in here makes it look a little redder in places — sort of reddish-brown.”
“Angharad doesn’t like it pinned up.” She sighed. “She talked to me this morning. I’d better tell you what she said before she starts dropping hints in front of you. She thinks I should have a child, maybe your child. I tried to tell her that I didn’t want one now, that maybe you didn’t, either.” That sounded too harsh. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t like your child, it’s just —”
“I know.” Chen sipped his tea. “You’re kind of young to have one, even for a Plainswoman, aren’t you?”
“Not that young. My mother was pregnant with me when she was about my age. Besides, our line —” She swallowed.
Venus of Dreams Page 17
