Children of Hope (3 page)

The Winthrop estate bordered ours; its manse was only two miles past our southernmost marker, fronting Plantation Road. But our demarcation fence was a good five miles from Carr House, where Anthony’s reception had been given.

A long trudge, but I couldn’t drive an electricar, and I didn’t dare try to hitch. Too bad I couldn’t have swiped a heli.

After my hike I’d shinnied up their drainpipe, tapped at Judy’s window. Her room was empty; I’d had to squat on the Winthrops’ porch roof an hour before she wandered upstairs to bed, and then I’d scared the zark out of her. After she’d calmed, she’d gone downstairs, pleaded adolescent hunger, and secured my plate of chicken.

Minor had risen again, and lit the manicured yard.

Judy eyed the hallway door with some trepidation. “I’ll really get it if Mom finds you here.”

“Fine, I’ll leave.” My tone was sullen; I tried again, managed to brighten it. “Thanks for the food.” I swung my legs to the side of the bed.

She stayed me with a palm. “Just keep it quiet.” Then, “Where will you go?”

I shrugged. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have sought her counsel.

She rubbed her chin, with a look that meant she was thinking hard. “It’s not just your unc—I mean, your nephew. They’re all aghast. When we came back from swimming they were still talking about you. Where will you stay? I doubt the families would take you in.”

It figured. The Reunification Church—the
only
authorized church—represented Lord God Himself. The U.N. Government was His instrument, and ruled Earth and the colonies in His name. Even here in Hope Nation, the Church was paramount. And I’d cursed a Bishop, anointed by Earth’s Council of Patriarchs.

I stirred uneasily, knowing I’d gone a touch too far.

“Why’d you have to say it?”

I opened my mouth, shut it again. How could I explain? I wasn’t sure about God, but I was damn sure I didn’t believe in the Bishop. I told her so.

“Why not?”

I swallowed, not liking where her question led. My eyes sought the safety of the bedspread. “Do you remember my dad?”

“I saw Mr Carr, now and then. Not to talk to.”

I nodded. When Derek boarded UNS
Paragon,
Judy had been nine and would have known the Stadholder only as a distant figure. “One night, a few months before he left, I heard him on the caller.”

She waited.

“He was arguing with the Bishop. ‘Renounce,’ Dad said softly, as if he couldn’t believe it.”

“What’s it mean?”

I shushed her. “It’s something the Church does when they don’t like people.” I toyed with the bedspread. Renunciation was only a step short of excommunication.

“We could find out. Pa’s friends with Deacon—”

“That’s not the point, stupid!” I flung down a chicken bone. It bounced. Carefully, I plucked it from the bedcover. “Sorry.” Was I speaking of the bone, or my temper?

She folded her arms.

“I was listening outside his study door. I didn’t mean to spy, but … I
had
meant to, though. My eyes darted to hers, and away, hoping she’d understand.
And forgive,
added a small voice. I thrust it away. “After the call, he sat there and—and he …”

“Say it.” Blessedly, her voice was gentle.

“He cried.” I swallowed a lump.

Her fingers brushed my forearm. “Oh, Randy.”

“Later, he told me he was just tired and frustrated. And he was mad I’d listened.” Furious, more like it. Not because of what I’d overheard, but at my lack of honor in eavesdropping. He’d punished me, but he hadn’t needed to. His reproach alone made me feel awful.

My fingers scrabbled at Judy’s bed linen. “He cried. And Dad was the strongest man I ever … ever …” Abruptly I swung to my feet. “I better go.”

Her question roped me, pulled me back to the bed. “Ever find out what they were arguing about?”

“The next day he wouldn’t talk about it.” Surreptitiously, I wiped an eye. “But I won’t take any crap from a frazzing Bishop.”

Her expression made me glad and scared all at once. “It’ll settle down. If you find a place to lie low for a—”

A knock at the door. We froze.

“Judy?”

“Yes, Mom?” Her voice was a squeak.

I rushed to the window, tried to raise it silently.

Her mother’s tone was stern. “Mr Carr’s downstairs.”

Oh, Christ. I clawed the sash open.

“He wants to talk to Randy.”

How did he know?

“Randy, are you in there?”

Judy bit her lip, pounded the bed.

I couldn’t abandon her; it would make her troubles far worse. I gave the drainpipe a last wistful glance. With a deep breath, I strode to the door, swung it open. “Yes, ma’am. I sneaked into Judy’s room. She didn’t know I’d be here. It wasn’t her fault.” I braced myself for the explosion.

“Really.” Ms Winthrop’s eyes flicked to the half-eaten chicken, proof of my lie. “It’s late, and you’d better go.” Her tone held that careful civility parents sometimes used, outside the family.

I shot Judy a glance of commiseration, but I had problems of my own. How in blazes did Anth know where to find me? What would he do now? I had not only the Bishop to answer for, but flight from Anthony’s authority. I could look forward to a grim night.

No, by God. I’d done what I could for Judy. Now I could look after myself.

In the vestibule, my keeper leaned against a pillar, arms folded. His expression was cool.

If that’s how he’d play it, so would I. I stopped on the stairwell. “You wanted to see me?” It was the tone I might have used with a servant.

“Yes, if you don’t mind. Outside.”

“All right.” Civility worked in my favor, at the moment. To give myself every possible chance I turned, assumed my best manners. “Good night, Ms Winthrop. Sorry to have intruded.”

She nodded, her mind obviously focused upstairs. She looked ready to bolt to Judy’s room the moment we were gone.

Anthony himself seemed none too pleased. Well, not only had I insulted the Bishop, I’d embarrassed my nephew at his own reception. To say nothing of making him go begging to the neighbors in search of me. We were a small colony—a mere three-quarters of a million, spread over the plantation zones and a handful of cities. But he was in charge, the equivalent of a colonial governor.

Politely, I held the door. Anthony slipped outside. So did I, and lunged past him. I sprinted past his waiting electricar, down the darkened drive, expecting with each step his grasp on my collar.

Nothing. I plunged into the brush; at night, I’d be harder to find off the path.

At twenty paces I risked a glance backward. At fifty, I slowed. Why wasn’t he chasing me? Did he have Home Guard troops lurking in the bushes?

He sat on the edge of the porch, arms folded. “Randolph?” He raised his voice, cupped his hands. “It’s important we talk.”

Ha. It was important he whale the tar out of me, as he’d oft threatened but never done, and I wasn’t about to let it happen. Not for Scanlen, or any churchman. And he wouldn’t intend any less, after I’d mortified him at his own reception.

He let the silence stretch. Then, “Randy, I know you hear me. We’ve no time for games. Please, come sit with me. I won’t hurt you.”

I waited him out, shivering in the night breeze.

“In fact, I won’t touch you. You have my word.”

I felt a chill. This wasn’t like Anthony at all. I swallowed, impulsively risked my freedom. “For how long?” I edged my way toward the porch.

A soft sound, that might have been a chuckle. “We’ll talk as long as you care to sit with me, and then you can retreat to where you are now, if you still want to run.”

“What about your men?”

“For God’s—it’s near midnight. The farmhands are asleep, and if you think I’d rouse the government over this, you have less sense than I thought.”

“You won’t touch me?”

It was the final straw. “God curse this nonsense!” He jumped to his feet, stalked to the car. “Find me when you’re ready. Even you aren’t worth these games.” He threw open his door.

Near enough to touch, I thrust aside a juniper. “I’m here.” With a try at nonchalance I strolled to the porch.

Anth glared. Then he let out his breath, pulled something from the car, strode toward me. I flinched, half expecting him to betray his promise. But it was only my jacket, which he tossed to me without a word. He brushed past, settled on the porch slats, dangling his feet. “Thought you might be cold.”

Gratefully I slipped it on, sat cautiously by his side. The wood decking was rough, and chilled. No celuwall or plasti-panels here. Not in the Zone. We prided ourselves on old-style construction. Besides, lumber was plentiful and cheap.

Anth cleared his throat. “Let’s keep our voices down. I don’t want word of this to spread.”

“Word of what?”

“What I’m going to tell you.” He eyed me as if making up his mind, then shrugged.

“Get it over with.” I braced for the inevitable lecture.

“Fact one.” He raised a finger. “The world doesn’t revolve about your adolescent angst.”

Maybe not, but he’d gone to the trouble to find me. And that brought up another point. “How’d you know to look here?”

“It’s where Judy lives. I couldn’t imagine to whom else you’d run.” A pause. “Are you, uh, physically involved with her?”

“No!” My cheeks grew hot.

It wasn’t an accusation; why did I respond as if it were? We weren’t physical, but we would be, one of these days. If I ever got my nerve up, and she didn’t refuse outright. Even in her absence, she made my nights restless.

I made my lip curl. “That’s not what you came to ask.”

“No.” His eyes searched mine. “I’ll tell you a story about the Church. Don’t roll your eyes, your father’s in it too. Still bored?”

The barb in his tone told me I’d made him angry, and he was trying to control it. “I never said I was …” I gave it up. He’d mentioned Dad, and wouldn’t have if it weren’t important. “Go on.”

“You studied religious history.”

I’d had to. Anthony made me go to school, despite my protests. I could learn what I needed at home, and it wasn’t as if schooling were mandatory.

“There’s only one Church to speak of, and one interpretation of Gospel. That’s been so ever since Hope Nation was founded.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“The Patriarchs run the Church, but here on Hope Nation, their delegate is the Bishop, and he wields all the authority of—”

“Why’d the Bishop call me—”

He slammed his fist on a floorboard. “No more interruptions, joey, or—”

“You said you wouldn’t hit me!”

“—or I’m done with you. And I don’t just mean for the night!” He waved a finger in front of my nose. “Not another word!” His eyes flashed. “You hear me?”

I stared at my shoe.

“Well?”

I mumbled, “Yes, sir.” Why did I feel relief for having knuckled under?

He raised my chin, spoke very softly. “Randy, I’m in trouble.”

My rebellion evaporated, on the instant. When all was done, we were family.

“Because of me?”

“No. But you made it far worse.”

I swallowed, edged closer.

“Where do I start?” A few breaths’ quiet. “I wish you’d known Derek better.” He sounded reflective. “Grandpa pretty well raised me, you know.”

I nodded. It was no secret.

He said, “My father was … distracted.”

My half brother Zack, a generation older than I, was an agri-geneticist, one of our best. These days he lived on his experimental farm across the Zone. It was primarily his strains of wheat that had vaulted Carr over its competition, and forced the other families to license our patented hybrids to keep up. Even today, he puttered over his workbench and wandered his experimental fields, notepad in hand. Just last year he’d developed—

“… left me to pretty well run about on my own.” Anthony’s face eased into an impish grin. “I didn’t mind, and neither did Grandfather Derek, until they found me and Emily in a barn loft. I was barely fifteen. That got me grounded to the estate for the summer.”

I’d heard it all before, from Dad. Not that I’d much cared.

“Later that week I got into a slugfest with Mr Pharen, the granary foreman, and everyone agreed I’d gone too far. They looked to Pa to settle me down, but he was pondering millet that season; he gave me a lecture and sent me on my way. So Grandfather stepped in.”

Yeah, Dad made sure his offspring were well behaved. He’d always made me toe the line, though I really didn’t mind; he had a way of mixing sternness with such obvious love, you
wanted
to make him proud. I think that was his secret of running the colony. Well, not a colony as such, though everyone still called it that. Commonweal was too big a word, perhaps. And besides …

“… what he confided in me?”

“Huh?” I blinked.

“You weren’t listening.” Anthony’s eyes held wonder, and something more forlorn. A sigh. “Ah, well.” He stood, ruffled my hair. “I ask more of you than your years, boy. It’s my failing.

“I’m sorry, Anth. I’ll pay better—”

But he was already striding to the car.

I ran after. “Wait. Finish.”

“I’ll sort it out one way or another.” He slammed his door, flipped the switches. “I wish you well, Randy. Truly.”

“Don’t!”
Don’t abandon me.

A squeal of tires, and he was gone.

I sat on the Winthrops’ cold porch cursing him, then myself. I’d been rude, when he’d practically begged me to pay heed.

But, so what if his feelings were hurt? He’d backed me into a corner, left me no choice. Now I couldn’t go home to Carr Plantation without crawling, and I wouldn’t do that for him, for Judy, for anything in the world.

“T
HANKS FOR THE RIDE
.” On the outskirts of Centraltown, I climbed down from the dusty grain hauler, aching and hungry. The driver fed it electrons; with a muted purr, it rumbled off.

I’d spent the morning stabbing my thumb at the wind, alongside of Plantation Road. It was a Plumwell rig that had pulled over at last, not that I’d doubted sooner or later someone would take me to the city. Hope Nation wasn’t the old fearful Terran world our ancestors had fled; we looked after one another, and a joey needing a lift got one. It was safe; outside Centraltown’s seedier districts crime was a rarity.