Part 27 (1/2)

'How soon what?' 'How soon can I go back to work?' Eyebrows raised quizzically, Isthia favoured her granddaughter with a very long and piercing look. Then sent a mental probe that made Damia gasp with pain.

'When you no longer have that sort of reaction, my dear. I repeat, since you have a hard time absorbing the information, you'll both recover, and with no reduction in potential. But it will take time, peace, quiet and no messing about.' Isthia waggled a finger first at her granddaughter.

'Have I made myself plain?' Damia swallowed, her head throbbing.

'Completely.' Immediately she felt a kinder touch and the throbbing was reduced to a minor ache.

'Have I made myself plain to you, too, Afra?' Isthia now turned on Afra who had gone slightly paler. 'Yes, I see I have. Now, will you both stop worrying about the galaxy and eat my nouris.h.i.+ng soup? You need to reintroduce your abused stomachs to real food instead of nutrient sprays. I've prepared a diet sheet which,' and again she pinned them with her forceful stare, 'you will both follow a.s.siduously.' When they nodded meekly, she went on.

'I'll leave tomorrow since a third party is unnecessary or should be. You certainly are adult enough, Afra, as well as old enough to admit, and yield, to your current physical and mental disabilities.' She gave a sniff. 'And to bore each other in close proximity. Nothing like that to demonstrate compatibility.' 'Grandmother!' Damia cried in protest for she knew that Afra and she were already bonded.

'Damia, stop doodling and start eating. You'll have more soup, Afra,' she said in one of her quick s.h.i.+fts of mood.

'When you've finished, I suggest that a gentle walk about the cabin will be about all the physical activity you'll be able for today.

THEN,' and she shook a stern finger at each, 'you will rest in the porch hammocks so I'm sure that you are resting.' 'No quarrel there,' Afra said with a droll grin of apology to Damia.

'Hear me, Damia? Give him a chance to regain his strength!' 'Grandmother!' 'Don't grandmother me, young woman. Learn the joys of antic.i.p.ation!' A slight shake of Afra's head cooled Damia's heated response. And the warm look in his yellowy eyes promised her that he'd make it all up to her later.

'It is peaceful here,' Afra said as he and Damia obediently took their stroll. He had linked his warm long fingers in hers and such tactile contact was unusually rea.s.suring, and curiously satisfying.

Almost as good as the now forbidden mental link would be.

Especially since the touch-sense of Afra had taken on an added dimension - no longer merely cool-green-comfortable-secure: a vibrancy threaded through the cool-green, and 'comfortable' had definitely lazy-sensual elements, while 'secure' had intensified into a deeply rooted foundation that could never be attacked Occasionally Afra's long thigh brushed against her leg, and their bodies swayed together, to touch at the hip, while her shoulder often encountered his arm.

Damia took in little of their surroundings during that slow saunter: she just revelled in the purely physical contact with a subtly altered Afra. She still couldn't believe her stupidity. But then, Afra'd always been part of her life: how could she have known he'd a.s.sume such a vital role in the rest of her life? She refused to consider problems. Nothing must mar this tranquil moment.

They rounded the corner of the cabin and made for the short flight of stairs to the veranda where two hammocks swung idly in the afternoon breeze. The few stairs put an unexpected strain on her thighs. She thought of the big daddies she had once so effortlessly transported.

Well, she'd do them again! She was even panting a bit when they reached the porch. So was Afra so she didn't feel quite so decrepit.

But this was a splendid spot for napping, shaded as it was from the direct rays of the sun.

Afra held the cords of one hammock while she eased herself into it. Then he bent and, at the last moment, altered his target and kissed the side of her neck.

'Your mouth, love, is far too inviting,' he said with a low laugh and set her hammock to rocking.

'Why are the swings set so far apart? I want to keep in touch,' she complained, extending her arm as far as it would go towards him.

He laughed as he settled himself and, with one quick push, set his hammock into a gentle swing.

'We're to rest, remember, love? And since I want nothing more than to be rested ---' and he laughed softly, suggestively, 'I'll obey.' Surprising her, Afra began to hum a melody she faintly recognized. And hearing it, she fell asleep.

Afra almost botched his attempt to invoke that old preconditioning: in the first place, he couldn't sing and laugh at the same time and then, when Damia's breathing obediently slowed to a sleep rhythm, he was both surprised and gratified that that old trigger still worked.

He let the lullaby die away, watching Damia's face which still showed the marks of her ordeal and grief. He hadn't liked to see her so painfully thin, either, but Isthia's threatened diet ought to repair that damage. He wished he could restore her as easily as he had put her to sleep.

He sighed, and clasped his hands behind his head, s.h.i.+fting his gaze to the cabin's incredibly serene setting. Gradually he became aware of discrete sounds; Isthia moving about inside; insect and bird song drifting from the trees; the soughing of the breeze. He was also calm within himself for the first time in years: perhaps, he amended, in his adult life. Certainly since Damia's ripening s.e.xuality had stunned him - what was it, only seven years ago?

Last night had been completely unexpected: a boon he could never have antic.i.p.ated - a boon which might yet cause him more anguish than he had already endured.

And yet, this time Afra Lyon had no intention of standing patiently by and permitting Damia's incredible gift of love to be wrenched from his grasp.

Hadn't she come to him of her own volition? Seen him with eyes no longer clouded by old perceptions and the anathema of 'familiarity'?

And her dear nonsense about sharing her mental strength with him?

Well, he'd just see if that was ever needed! How devoutly he hoped that Isthia's prognosis was correct! Keeping up with Damia would require Afra Lyon in top form.

On the other hand, Damia might have turned to him as an anodyne to the devastating experience of misjudging Sodan, and Larak's loss. They had been so close, those two. Had she turned to her oldest and most trusted friend only for solace? No, Afra told himself, he had not misjudged the look on Damia's face, the amazement in her eyes as she had really looked at him, Afra Lyon, the way her hands had caressed him were revelations for them both. She had undergone a s.h.i.+ft, a realignment of senses, a translation of preconceptions that had been far-reaching.

That he had s.h.i.+fted from old family friend to potential lover years before was immaterial: in her eyes, she herself had made the final adjustment to accepting the steadfast and silent love he had for her.

Afra smiled wryly. He had stunned Damia with his mention of twenty-eight Towered years. But his love had to face the fact that he was twenty-four years her senior. Rowan would mention it and possibly Jeff. He did wonder how they were going to receive the news. He could hear the Rowan roaring - she'd have to break in a new a.s.sistant unless she could persuade Gollee to stay. Or install Veswind?

Would she be willing for another from the Lyon line?

Afra smiled again as he remembered how often Jeff had teased him about starting his own family. Jeff had never had Damia in mind for Afra's mate but would he really object? Damia was younger by over two decades but how much could that matter?

Especially now that Damia had gone through such a tempering and maturing crisis. Afra saw it in the lingering sadness in her eyes, heard it in her subtly altered voice, felt it in her abandoned response to their impa.s.sioned consummation. He wished she had not been subjected to such a harsh, unforgiving, sacrificial rite of pa.s.sage.

He could have wished it had been easier on her - but surely both Rowan and Jeff would recognize her new maturity. Afra s.h.i.+fted restlessly, his thoughts turning to the unexpected victim. Dear, dear Larak! That vibrant, amiable, loving boy, gone in a flash of alien anger. Afra forced himself to face that hideous moment, if only to defuse the emotional burden, but his mind refused to focus. In fact, it hurt - Afra, came Isthia's admonition, don't think about that yet.

You can't alter what has happened He didn't try to reach her telepathically, just let his reply sit in his public mind. I must, however, confront what did happen and sort it out for peace of mind.

Not now, not today or for several weeks to come, Isthia replied, and what she did next, Afra never knew, but sleep overcame him. To achieve the restoration of her patients, Isthia wouldn't cavil at planting a few irresistible suggestions of her own.

'Tomorrow you can catch your own,' Isthia told them as she served them a dinner of fish, tiny vegetables and a salad of mixed greens, 'and scavenge your greens from my garden. I ask only that you eat everything you catch and pick. You know the drill on Deneb, Damia.' 'Waste not, want not,' Damia dutifully chanted as the delectable odour of the pan-fried fish made her mouth water. 'Fish is brain food, Afra,' she added pedantically.

'High protein, low fat. Is there a limit on a day's catch?' Isthia snorted. 'Of course not. I stocked the lake myself so it's not part of the official resources.' Damia leaned across the table to Afra, her eyes dancing with mischief, 'That means that Isthia reserves the right to fish the lake to herself. Deneb can't use it in time of famine.

'Deneb hasn't endured a famine, has it?' Afra was astonished enough to stop eating.

'Of course not,' Damia said.

'Famine and planetary emergency.

'Such as the Beetles?' Afra asked.

'Exactly,' and Isthia looked slightly grim, 'first they filled our lakes with contaminants, then they blasted them dry. Took years to get our reservoirs rebuilt and full. So a fish-stocked lake can be considered a natural resource and could be added to planetary food reserves. Fortunately, I made sure I had a few perks.' 'This isolated site is one?' Afra asked.

'Took me nearly a year to find exactly the right land when the grant was bestowed,' Isthia said, 'but it's worth every bit of the fuss it caused.' 'Fuss? With all you've done for Deneb?' Damia said, indignant.

'That's why there was so much fuss,' Isthia replied and related to them the struggles she had had with local and central administration, builders, naturalists, as well as medical boards which did not want her so far from population centres. 'I was blocked on minor points for nearly another two years. But I got the place I wanted, where I wanted it, and no-one can revoke my t.i.tle to it, nor my heirs' 'What do we fish for?' Afra asked.

'Rainbow sparklers,' Isthia replied. 'Bait your hooks and throw 'em in. The fish eventually get interested.' 'It's a novel idea to catch one's dinner, too,' Afra added.

'You can, though, can't you? It's not something Capellans are against?' Damia asked, realizing how little she really knew about Afra Lyon.

'No,' he a.s.sured her with a grin, 'nothing in my upbringing prevents me from fis.h.i.+ng for food.' 'I'll show you the lake after we eat. There'll be light enough,' Isthia said. 'In fact watching the sunset there can be rather spectacular.' And that evening Deneb put on quite a display for them.