Berta's Choice (The Soul-Linked Saga)

by Phillips, Laura Jo

  “That’s good,” Berta said. “The idea of walking around with brain damage and not even knowing it gives me the creeps.”

  “Yes, me too,” Hope agreed. “Jackson said that a message has already been sent out to the Katres, and they’re working on a message now to send to the Director. They want him to handle informing the women who’ve already returned to Earth. All of those women have been given new, secret identities just in case there are still Brethren on Earth.”

  “Speaking of healing tanks,” Talinka said as she poured herself some coffee, “I have some news that I hope will be welcome.”

  “What’s that?” Hope asked.

  “I know that neither of you knew Riata, but she was an Alverian Empath Healer who lived here, on Jasan, for many years,” Talinka said.

  “Yes, we’ve heard of her,” Hope said. “I understand that she did much for the Jasani, and is still greatly missed.”

  “Yes, she was an exceptional person, as well as an exceptional healer,” Talinka said. “There are very few Alverian Empaths who are true Healers though, so when High Prince Garen requested that a new Healer be sent to Jasan, there wasn’t one available.”

  “Is there one now?” Hope asked.

  “Yes, there is,” Talinka replied, smiling. “He’s a cousin of mine, and a very talented Healer. He had volunteered his services on another world but the political situation there has become difficult and he was forced to leave. A few weeks ago I sent a message asking him if he’d found a new appointment. When his reply indicated that he hadn’t, I asked him to come here. I learned this morning that he has agreed, and will be here in a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” Hope said. “Have you told the Dracons yet?”

  “No, but I will before I leave this day,” Talinka said. She tilted her head at Berta, sensing confusion from the older woman.

  “Please, ask me your question, Berta,” she said.

  Berta shrugged. “I don’t mean to be rude, or sound stupid, but with the doctors we have here, headed by Doc, and healing tanks, why is a Healer needed?”

  “A Healer can do many things that a healing tank cannot,” Talinka replied.

  “Such as?”

  “There are still many Clan Jasani who are mated to human females,” Talinka said. “Those women who are able to become pregnant will always give birth to triplets, which can be dangerous for human women. A healing tank cannot help them should something go wrong. Nor can a healing tank cure disease, or correct birth defects. And, finally, healing tanks do not work on Clan Jasani. They heal very quickly on their own, but there are times when a Healer may be all that lies between them and death.”

  “I see,” Berta said. “Healers sound like miracle workers.”

  “Yes, I think that in some ways, they are,” Talinka said. “But the truth is, Berta, that I asked my cousin to come here for your sake.”

  “My sake?” Berta asked in surprise. “I am not ill, Talinka. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

  “No, you are not ill,” Talinka assured her. “But my understanding of the aging process in humans leads me to believe that a strong Healer may be able to reverse it.”

  Berta stared at Talinka for a long moment, unable to think of a single thing to say in response to such a stunning statement. “Did you ask your cousin about it?” Hope asked when she saw that Berta was speechless.

  “I did,” Talinka replied. “He said he would like to find out.”

  “Why?” Berta blurted finally. “Why would you ask him, and why would he be willing to try?”

  “As you know, we are Empaths, Berta,” Talinka said after considering her answer carefully. “We feel the emotional pain, the happiness, and everything in between of those around us. Restoring your youth to you would be like giving you back something of what was stolen from you. I believe that you deserve that gift, as does my cousin, Jareth. Unless you do not want it.”

  “Can healing such as that erase scars?” Berta asked, striving for a casual tone.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Talinka replied. “Scars cannot be healed, Berta.”

  Berta nodded, hiding her disappointment. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” Talinka replied with a smile. She was not offended by Berta’s question. She understood the woman too well for that. “Your happiness is all the reward we seek.”

  Berta stared into her coffee cup for a long moment, her mind racing with the implications of what Talinka had just offered her. After a time she shook her head. “I need to think about this,” she said. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” Talinka replied. “It is completely up to you, Berta. This is your life, and the choices are yours to make.”

  ***

  After they’d approved the plans for the Rami houses and Talinka had returned to Bride House, Berta went into her room and closed the door behind her. She sat down on the edge of her bed, and stared at the drawer in her nightstand.

  Choices. Decisions. Options. These were the most difficult aspects of her new freedom for Berta. In the beginning, just trying to decide what to eat from the amazing number of available options in Hope’s kitchen had been overwhelming. She’d gotten much better over the past months with everyday things like that. But big decisions, like the one Talinka had just offered her, took much more thought.

  Finally making up her mind she reached down and opened the drawer, and picked up the neatly folded navy blue sweater within. She unfolded the sweater, revealing a small ball of yarn that exactly matched the color of her eyes, still attached to the bottom of the sweater. The sweater had been sitting in the drawer for weeks now, only a few stitches from completion. Now, she’d decided, was the time to finish it.

  She picked up the knitting needles which still held uncast stitches stacked along their lengths, wrapped a length of yarn around her finger, and began knitting. She worked slowly and deliberately, keeping her mind focused on her task instead of allowing it to wander as she usually did when she knitted. When she finished the final stitch she reached for a pair of scissors and clipped the yarn with shaking hands.

  She stood in a field of tall, blue grass, the sun shining brightly in the lavender sky. She looked around, but saw nothing else. Just grass, sky, the sun, herself. She looked down and saw a stone path beneath her feet which ended one step in front of where she stood. Had she been walking and reached the end of the path? she wondered.

  She took a step, and the path lengthened about eighteen inches in front of her. She took another step, and it lengthened again. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that the path stretched out behind her as for as she could see. But no matter how slowly or how quickly she walked, the path before her was never more than a step ahead of her feet.

  She wondered what it meant and paused for a while to think about it. After a time she took another step, then another. Suddenly, the path split. Which way should she go? she wondered feeling a little panicky. Wasn’t that why she was here? To decide which path to take? Yes, she thought, that felt right. But what help was it for to see two paths before her. She already knew that much.

  She looked in the direction of one path, then the other, but that was of no use. They looked the same. She turned around and looked behind her. But what good was that? It didn’t matter where she’d been. That was done and over with. She needed to go forward, not backward, and she needed to know which path was the right one.

  She turned back around in frustration, then froze as understanding began to seep into her mind. She sighed softly as the grass faded away and she was, once more, sitting on her bed with the sweater in her lap.

  So, she thought, the past is done, and can’t determine my future if I refuse to allow it. And the path I set my feet on is up to me. There are no promises. Only choices.

  Chapter 6

  Sergio Farnswaite looked out the transport window beside his seat and gasped at what he saw. Mile after mile of rolling hills and valleys covered in blue grass stretched as far as he
could see, broken here and there by small clumps of tall, leafy trees. He narrowed his eyes on a group of...something...as the transport flew over them, and shuddered when he realized he was looking at cows. He thought they were cows. If they weren’t cows, they were, at least, livestock. He shuddered again.

  He’d been both flattered and, frankly, confused when he’d received a special invitation from the Princess of Jasan. His designs were aimed at young jetsetters with lots of money and no idea in the world how to dress themselves properly, let alone decorate their palatial estates. He was popular and successful at what he did, but he’d never had a Royal client before. Now he wondered if it had been a good idea to come here. Not that he’d had a choice in the matter. He just hoped she didn’t want him to decorate a barn for her...livestock.

  Stop it this instant Sergio, he admonished himself sternly. You will be on your best behavior and act as though you love things like grass and trees and...well...whatever else grows out of the ground. You will keep your lip zipped, and the sharp side of your tongue hidden. Just remember what will happen if you lose this job. That was a thought that made Sergio’s already pale complexion turn whiter than ever.

  As Sergio continued to stare out the window he saw buildings appear in the distance. The closer they got, the more his disappointment grew. This was even worse than he’d feared. A motley collection of wooden buildings scattered about without much rhyme or reason amidst more trees and more grass. For a moment he hoped that the transport would fly over the rustic settlement, indicating that it was not their destination after all. When the transport slowed and began to descend, he sighed. The way his luck was going lately, he wasn’t all that surprised.

  He checked his tie, a thin metallic green affair with a perfect half Windsor knot pulled loose so that it hung precisely even with the second button of his yellow and red stripped shirt. He ran his fingers lightly over his hair, knowing by touch that it was mussed just exactly right. He reached for his purple jacket, which was lying carefully across the seat beside him so that it would not get wrinkled or creased, and slipped his arms into it. Then he opened his travel bag and checked himself in the mirror.

  While he was perfecting his appearance, the transport landed on the blue grass of the makeshift airfield and the front passenger door of a black ground-car parked nearby opened. Sergio closed his travel case and looked back in time to see a young woman with long black hair step out of the car. She was dressed simply in black slacks and a long sleeved white blouse, which made Sergio smile with satisfaction. If the locals all dressed like this woman, his edgy clothing would definitely stand out. Which was, of course, the point. If the locals dressed the way he was currently dressed, no matter. He always traveled with enough luggage to adjust his own look so that he stood out from the crowd.

  A few minutes later Sergio reached the foot of the transport steps and walked toward the black haired woman. He carried his travel case over his shoulder, but left the rest of his luggage for the military types on the transport to deal with. He had no idea why he’d been required to take a military transport, but as it wasn’t his idea, he saw no reason to lug his own suitcases around because of it.

  “Are you Sergio Farnswaite?” the woman asked him.

  Sergio smirked inwardly as he took in the young woman’s appearance. Young, fresh, very pretty but, by her dress, clearly reserved and probably shy. No doubt naive in the ways of the galaxy. She’d be putty in his hands. They always were. He only hoped she was the Princess. That would certainly make things easier.

  “Yes, I am,” he said with his warmest smile, automatically reaching out to shake hands with her. “And you are?”

  The woman looked at his hand with distaste and kept her own hands at her sides. Startled, Sergio glanced up into the woman’s dark blue eyes and realized he’d made a mistake. This woman, whoever she was, was far more than she seemed at first glance.

  “My name is Berta Simms, Mr. Farnswaite,” she said. “If you will get the rest of your luggage and load it into the trunk, we can be on our way.”

  Sergio turned around in time to see one last suitcase dropped from the doorway on top of the rest of his luggage which was scattered around on the blue grass. The door slid shut and the transport lifted off before the steps were fully folded up into their compartment. Sergio turned back around, dismayed, but the woman merely arched a dark, perfectly shaped brow at him. She opened the door and looked at him over her shoulder.

  “The sooner the better, Mr. Farnswaite,” she said. “I have other things to do.”

  “That wasn’t very nice, Berta,” Hope said as Berta entered the car and pulled the door shut behind her.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Berta agreed. “But that is not a nice man. He’s the kind of man you have to draw lines in the sand for. You let him step over it once, and it’s all over. I don’t want him pushing Lariah around, so I figured it’d be best to start him off on the right foot.”

  “You like Lariah, don’t you?” Hope asked.

  “Very much,” Berta said, looking at Hope in mild surprise. “I’ve never known anyone with such a generous, kind and gentle spirit.”

  “Yes, just being around her soothes me somehow,” Hope agreed. “That’s why they call her the Soul of the Jasani. But if you think the Dracons would allow anyone to push her around, you are very much mistaken. And don’t forget, delicate little Lariah is a dracon herself, and more than capable of defending herself if need be.”

  “I know,” Berta said. “I can’t help feeling protective of her though. Especially now that she’s had those three little boys. They are so adorable.”

  “Yes, they are,” Hope said, not pointing out the fact that Berta thought all children were adorable. “Although I must say, I think my sons are more adorable.”

  Berta laughed, turning back to the window to see Sergio Farnswaite struggle to the back of the car with his second load of luggage. “When are you going to tell Jackson, Clark and Rob your news?”

  Hope gasped and Berta turned to look at her. The expression of surprise on the other woman’s face made her smile. “You didn’t know?”

  “No,” Hope said, her hands going to her flat stomach. “I wondered yesterday, but it’s far too soon to know for sure.”

  “Well, I know for sure, and if you ask Jareth, I’m sure he’d be happy to confirm it for you.”

  “Yes, I think that I will,” Hope said, her turquoise eyes shining with happiness. “Berta, how did you know?”

  “Remember that sweater I’ve been making for you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Hope said.

  “I finished it this morning. As soon as it was done, I knew that...well, I just knew.”

  “Knew what?” Hope pressed.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Berta asked, a smile playing around her lips.

  “Of course I want to know,” Hope replied.

  “Okay, I knew that you are pregnant with three little girls,” Berta said with a grin.

  “Girls?” Hope asked. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” Berta replied. “You’re going to have your hands full with three boys toddling around and three baby girls, but you’ll be happy.”

  Hope smiled, picturing it in her mind. She could hardly wait to tell the guys. She frowned. “What did the sweater you made have to do with it?”

  “When I finished the sweaters for Aisling and Karma, I suddenly knew things about them,” Berta said. “It didn’t happen until I tied off the last stitch. Then I had sort of a waking dream that lasted for just a few moments. I thought they were just dreams, at first. An old woman’s passing fancy. It was hard to imagine that Aisling was really a warrior, and the Gryphons’ Arima. I also saw Karma following her destiny on a different world, and finding her happiness there. Now we know those things to be true. When I finished your sweater this morning, I knew about your daughters.”

  “Didn’t you make a sweater for Lariah before you made mine?”

  “Yes, but hers was
an experiment,” Berta said. “I made Aisling, Karma and you sweaters that matched the colors of your eyes. And I got visions, or whatever you want to call them, of each of you when I was finished.”

  “Lariah’s sweater was lavender, wasn’t it?” Hope asked.

  “Yes, and her eyes are green,” Berta said. “I got no visions at all when I finished her sweater.”

  “That’s interesting,” Hope said. “Also sort of scary.”

  “Yes, very,” Berta replied. “That’s why it took me so long to finish your sweater. I was afraid of seeing something bad. Then I decided that if something bad was going to happen, it would be better to know about it in case there was a way to prevent it.”

  The rear door of the car opened and Sergio Farnswaite entered, slamming the door shut behind him. He was huffing and puffing in a most annoying manner, but Berta wasn’t fooled. He was trying to attract either sympathy, attention, or both. She reached over and hit the button to raise the privacy window between the front and rear seats.

  Hope shook her head slightly, but she was smiling as she started the ground-car. She drove slowly across the airfield, thinking of the things Berta had told her. She couldn’t wait to tell the guys, but first she wanted to take Berta’s advice and ask Jareth to confirm it.

  “Berta, now that Jareth has healed all signs of aging, have you thought about contacting the Falcorans?” Hope asked, finally giving in to her curiosity after weeks of holding her tongue.

  “I’ve considered it, yes,” Berta said, not ready to reveal that she considered it nearly every moment of every day. “But I’m really kind of busy right now. Jareth wants to do one more session, and we still have a busy ten days ahead of us to get Arima House and the Rami Houses finished by the deadline. Then I’ll be getting the first group of berezi settled in, which I’m sure will be hectic.”

  “Why does Jareth need to do another session?” Hope asked, glancing over at Berta. Even though the transformation had been gradual over the past six weeks, Hope still had a difficult time remembering that this young, dark haired beauty with the deep blue eyes and cherry lips was the old woman that had greeted them in the Brethren compound not even a full year earlier. Until she opened her mouth. Berta’s exterior had changed, but she was still the same person on the inside.