Glow (12 page)

“What do you want?” the girl asked irritably.

Waverly chose not to answer. Instead she leaned against her friend.

“You know, one time,” Waverly said, “back on the Empyrean, Mason Ardvale tried to kiss me.”

Felicity’s ears seemed to perk up at this, but her eyes remained on the porthole.

“I had to slap him. He got a bloody lip.”

“And he let up?”

“We were in an elevator. The door opened and someone came in.”

“You were lucky,” Felicity said with a sour laugh. “That guy…”

Waverly held her breath.
Tell me what happened, Felicity. Let me help you.

Felicity seemed to think better of what she’d been about to say and turned away.

“You’ve been hurt, haven’t you?” Waverly asked as softly as she could.

“I won’t talk about it with you.”

“Why not? Maybe it would help to—”

“Forgetting helps. Pretending it didn’t happen helps.”

“I don’t think so.” She reached out to touch her friend’s wrist, lightly, but Felicity buried her hands in her skirt. “Tell me what happened.”

“You’d have found out for yourself,” Felicity spat, “if your boyfriend wasn’t the Captain’s favorite.”

This stung deeply, but Waverly tried not to be angry with her. “Felicity, I want to help.”

“So now that Kieran isn’t around you have time for me, I suppose?”

“What?”

“Come on, Waverly. Don’t pretend. As soon as Kieran showed an interest in you, you never had time for anyone else.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. So don’t pretend to be all caring now. I’ve been on my own for a while now, with no one to talk to—”

“What about your parents?”

“My dad can’t handle this, Waverly. He’d fall apart. Or get himself killed.”

“But your mom—”

“Told me to avoid them. On a closed metal box in deep space.”

“Them? Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Felicity leaned her head against the thick glass. The skin around her mouth was loose, and Waverly saw little droplets of spittle playing at the corners of her lips. She’d known Felicity Wiggam her entire life, but there was nothing she could say to help her.

“I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to go home,” Waverly said.

“What makes you think it will be any different here?”

“It might be different. Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”

“You’re so naïve.” Felicity laughed scornfully. “Don’t you see what people are? They’re animals. Every one of them.”

“Felicity.” Waverly grabbed hold of the girl’s hand and squeezed hard enough to hurt, until Felicity lifted her eyes to Waverly’s. “We’re animals, too. We can fight back.”

Felicity yanked her hand away. “You idiot. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight.”

“It matters to me,” Waverly said quietly.

“So fight, then,” Felicity spat over her shoulder.

Waverly stood up, fists clenched. “I will.”

FAMILY TIME

Waverly’s hosts for family time were Amanda and Josiah Marvin, and they were more nervous than she was. Amanda’s long fingers trembled, and Josiah kept popping up to check the food, passing by a very messy worktable that was covered with tools and wood shavings.

“As you can see, Josiah has a hobby.” Amanda smiled. Wrinkles splayed out from her green eyes, but she had a gentle, kind face that gave her a certain agelessness. She indicated the several carved wooden instruments hanging on the walls. They were variations on the guitar, of different shapes and sizes, and beautiful in a primitive way. “Josiah builds them. He’s quite an accomplished musician. He plays music for the services.”

“Services?” Waverly asked.

“Church services. We all go.”

“I see.”

Amanda gestured toward a wooden bench, and Waverly sat down. “I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to see young faces! I forgot what young skin looks like.” Amanda leaned forward as though she wanted to touch Waverly’s cheek, but the girl drew away from her.

Waverly looked warily at the woman’s open face, her high forehead and prominent cheekbones, and tried to think how she might get something useful out of her. “I had tea with Anne Mather today and she said the same thing.”

“Thank goodness for Pastor Mather.” Amanda brightened. “I don’t know what we would have done without her. Everyone aboard the New Horizon was so despondent until she rose … until she was elected to lead us.”

“I’ve noticed people call her Pastor. On the Empyrean we had a Captain.”

“We did, too, at first,” Amanda said, her expression troubled. “Captain Takemara.”

“What happened to him?”

Amanda shook her head. “He got sick. It was so sad. He wasn’t very old.”

“But then wouldn’t his first officer have finished his term?”

Amanda looked at the doorway of the kitchen as though hoping Josiah would come in and rescue her. “Well, actually, Commander Riley had committed suicide a few weeks before the Captain gave up command of the ship.” She blinked, forced a smile.

“So then Anne Mather took over.”

“Was
elected,
” Amanda said. “By the church elders.”

“Elders?”

“I believe it was called the Central Council on your ship? Is that right?”

“I thought if the first mate couldn’t take over, there was supposed to be a general election, and everyone got to vote. Isn’t that in the bylaws?”

“Oh,” Amanda said, chuckling, “I don’t know anything about politics. Do I, Josiah?”

Josiah had come into the room and was setting a pot of steaming vegetable stew on the dining table. “It’s true, Waverly. Amanda pays no attention to that sort of thing. She’s an artist, you know.”

Waverly looked at the painting over the table. It was a portrait of a little girl with rosy cheeks and curly black hair. “Did you paint that?”

“Yes, I did. Can you guess who that is?” she asked Waverly, a twinkle in her eye.

Waverly studied the apple cheeks and pointed chin, the square hairline and plump body, and with a sinking sensation said, “That’s Anne Mather, isn’t it?”

“At the age of three. Wasn’t she precious?”

The toddler’s gaze was wide and innocent, her pink lips a rosebud, her fat hands wrapped around a corncob. She was indeed a beautiful child.

“I love to paint children! It has been … therapeutic. Naturally I haven’t been able to work from live models,” Amanda said. “The Pastor was kind enough to loan me a childhood picture.”

“It’s really good,” Waverly said. She wanted to believe that the woman was ignorant of what had happened on the Empyrean, because she instinctively liked her. She liked Josiah, too. He was shorter than Amanda, and he had wide-set brown eyes and a floppy mop of grayish hair. He puttered around the apartment while Amanda talked, but he always seemed to have one ear trained on his wife, and he smiled privately to himself at things she said. They loved each other, Waverly could see.

Josiah tossed his head toward the table. “Soup’s on, girls.”

Josiah ladled a savory stew into Waverly’s earthenware bowl. Large chunks of broccoli, tomato, and asparagus floated in a fragrant broth. Waverly took a piece of crusty bread from the basket in front of her and dipped it in. She was ravenous, but she felt gentle fingers on her elbow. Amanda smiled indulgently. “We have our customs,” she said, and closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, thank You for bringing Waverly to us safely. We are so grateful that You saw fit to bring these children into our fold.”

Waverly put down her spoon and lowered her eyes. She’d never said grace before in her life. As far as she knew, no one on the Empyrean did, not even Kieran and his parents. She felt fidgety and uncomfortable, but she folded her hands in her lap as Josiah and Amanda were doing until they said, “Amen.”

Waverly bit into her bread. “This is really good,” she said with a full mouth, and immediately felt ashamed of her poor manners. This felt like a regular dinner with regular people, and once again Waverly had to remind herself that she was a captive.

“So how did you like the tour of the gardens today?” Josiah asked as he broke his bread into small pieces and dropped them into his stew.

“They’re beautiful,” Waverly said, and meant it. The gardens on the New Horizon were much better tended than on the Empyrean. There were fewer weeds. The wheat rows were straighter, the corn greener, the berries bigger and juicier. She supposed without children to care for, the crew had flung themselves to the task of farming. “We played on the banyan trees.”

“Those were my favorite when I was young.” Amanda laughed. “Can you imagine Josiah and me as children? I was four and he was six when we were brought aboard the New Horizon.”

“So you remember Earth?” Waverly asked, wistful. She loved hearing about Old Earth and its blue sky. “Do you remember rain? How it fell out of the air?”

“It was beautiful to watch,” Amanda said, “but full of chemicals.”

“Why? What chemicals?” Waverly asked. Few adults on the Empyrean had been willing to talk about their planet of origin, she’d noticed. They always changed the subject if she asked too many questions, and no one ever gave her a clear picture of what had really happened to make their home world such a hard place to live. She’d always wondered why it was a secret. Her mother’s explanation, that it was too painful for people to talk about, never felt entirely true. Something was being held back. “How did chemicals get into the rain?”

Amanda shook her head. “I have never understood it. Josiah? Do you?”

“I’m no climate scientist,” he said as he nudged a broth-soaked piece of bread with the back of his spoon. “The factories got out of hand, or—”

“Pastor Mather said that the reason Earth collapsed was because people didn’t pay attention to the signs God sent them. They were greedy and lazy, and because of that—”

“They were punished,” Josiah interjected.

“For what? What exactly did they do?”

Amanda let out an embarrassed laugh. “We were so young. This is our home now.”

“Do you miss it? Being on a planet?”

“Every single day,” Josiah said. “But it wasn’t always so terrific, either.”

“I remember feeling hungry most of the time,” Amanda said before taking a huge bite of broccoli. “My bones didn’t form quite right as a child. I had to wear braces.”

“And there was lots of violence,” Josiah said. “We’re much better off here.”

“Especially now that you girls have come,” Amanda added. She smiled at her husband, and he briefly covered her hand with his own. Something private passed between them, then Amanda dropped her gaze and took a small bite, letting her spoon linger in her mouth.

“How is it?” Amanda asked, indicating Waverly’s soup with a flick of her eyes.

“Really good,” Waverly said again. They ate in silence, the only sound the clink and slide of their spoons against the earthenware bowls. Waverly took another piece of bread, though she wasn’t so hungry anymore. She wanted something to do with her hands, some excuse for not talking.

“Waverly, I wonder if you’d let me paint you?”

Waverly stopped chewing, surprised. “Me?”

“I’d love the chance to work with a live model. And you’re so pretty, dear.”

“You haven’t seen Felicity Wiggam,” Waverly said. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”

“I like your face. I’d like to paint it,” Amanda said. “Just a simple portrait.”

“Amanda doesn’t do nudes,” Josiah said with a chuckle. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And it would give us an excuse to visit more,” Amanda added. “If that would suit you. I could get permission from Pastor Mather.”

Waverly put down her bread. “I suppose that would be all right.”

Amanda stood and gathered the empty plates. “Who’s ready for oatmeal cookies?”

“À la mode,” Josiah added with a chuckle. “Have you ever had ice cream?”

“We don’t carry cows on the Empyrean,” Waverly said, and dropped her chin. Any mention of her home sent a jarring grief through her, and she had to swallow back tears.
It’s still there,
she told herself.
They’re still out there.

There was an awkward pause before Josiah said haltingly, “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried ice cream.”

Waverly found a way to smile at him. She tried to enjoy her oatmeal cookie, though the ice cream made her queasy and she couldn’t finish.

She helped Josiah and Amanda do their dishes, and then they walked her back to the dormitory. She extended her hand to Amanda, who folded it between both hands, smiling down at the girl. As tall as Waverly was, Amanda was much taller. “Remember, you’re going to model for me. I’ll arrange it with the Pastor.”

“That sounds fine,” Waverly said, and even let the woman give her a brief hug. She smelled of oil paints and fresh-cut tomatoes.

Once she crawled into her bed and the lights turned off, her thoughts turned to Kieran. He would never accept that Captain Jones had sabotaged the New Horizon. As for why he’d refused to help them, Kieran would say that if he’d increased acceleration, that would have increased the artificial gravity, and there would be no way of knowing how the crew and livestock would be affected. He was only trying to protect his crew.

But the Captain hadn’t protected his crew, had he?

Seth had said that friends of the Captain led complicated lives. Waverly wished she could talk to him about it. Seth was less naïve than Kieran, more willing to see the dark side of things. He didn’t let his loyalties confuse his idea of the truth.

Was she being disloyal to Kieran, thinking these thoughts? She loved his simple trust and the way he believed in his friends. She knew that was the way to bring out the best in people. Seth would always be suspicious of others and a little rough around the edges.

No, Kieran was better.

Waverly wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her own back, imagining Kieran’s arms, Kieran’s hands. She imagined him burying his face in her hair. He might even find a way to make her laugh, even now. He could always do that—cheer her up even when she was at her lowest.

“What would you say to me now?” she whispered into the silent darkness, and listened in her mind for a response. None came.