Until Again (3 page)

Dad shifted his body to face her more directly. “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want. How do you want to end it? Do you want to do something fast with the queen and her staff?”

“No, let’s just wipe that story. Go back to where you were. Where were you?”

“The king had just stopped speaking with Miea. They’d just said, ’Until again.’”

Becky pictured the king and Miea speaking while she was away at college. The king and Miea
talked.
Really talked.

“Yeah, until again. That’s a good way to end it.” Becky moved quickly to get under her sheets instead of hanging back with her dad for a minute after they were finished. He got off the bed and came around to kiss her on the forehead.

“You sure you’re okay, babe?” he said.

When did I say I was okay, Dad?
“We can talk about this if you want,” Becky said, surprised by the sharpness in her voice. “But only if you’re willing to let me know what’s happening.”

“Babe ...” Dad placed a hand on top of her head, and for a second she thought he was going to sit on the edge of the bed and get into it with her.

Instead, he kissed her on the forehead again.

“You’ve got school tomorrow,” he said before turning to go.

Plenium considered his wife an extraordinary ruler, perhaps one of the greatest monarchs in Tamarisk’s long history. However, her skills at statecraft would always come second to her unparalleled talent at rubbing backs.

“The tiniest bit to the left,” Plenium said as Folium kneaded the spot just below his right shoulder blade. The queen preferred foot rubs herself, and Plenium had already complied. It had been a long day of planning for the upcoming diplomatic mission, added to an always-full schedule of meeting with dignitaries, addressing minor problems, speaking with governors and heads of state, and aiding the concerns of Tamarisk’s scientists, farmers, artists, and merchants. Plenium was ever thankful that he had his wife by his side, and back rubs were only the tiniest of reasons. He had no idea how anyone ruled a kingdom like Tamarisk alone and hoped he never had to find out.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I heard from Lanchier while you were on the call with Pinzon,” Plenium said as his wife massaged the tension from his upper back. “The soldier is going to live. He suffered some internal damage, but doctors were able to get to him in time.”

Folium eased the pressure under his shoulder blade. “Thank goodness. I’m not sure how easy it would have been for me to be diplomatic with the despots if that soldier had died.”

“You might even have called them ’despots’ to their faces. You know, of course, that I think you run a horrible risk of making that mistake if you keep referring to them as such in private.”

Folium grumbled. “I’m not sure how much worse things would be if I did.”

Sadly, the queen had a point. Relations between Gunnthorn and Tamarisk had been uneasy for so long, no one could remember precisely how the troubles began. Some pointed to border disputes more than two centuries ago that led to the most extensive exchange of fire ever between the two nations, ultimately causing maps to be redrawn in Tamarisk’s favor. Others said the origin of the dispute dated centuries earlier to an ill-fated romance that nearly united the kingdoms. What was certain was that conditions had never been good in Plenium’s lifetime, and the last half year had seen escalated skirmishes and violence, even as – or perhaps because of- the prime minister of Gunnthorn seemed to indicate he’d be open to a thaw between the kingdoms.

Just this morning a Tamariskian soldier had been felled by an explosion caused by sabotage. That this took place more than twenty miles into Tamarisk territory led some to believe the attack was an internal one, but it soon became clear that the sabotage had the signature of the Thorns. It was the twelfth such incident in the last three weeks.

Plenium arched his shoulders to stretch, and Folium ended her back rub and moved to sit next to him, keeping a distance of about a foot and a half between them. There was a time when Folium would have finished her massage by nestling with him, with Plenium wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. Those were days past, though. Since the Great Blight, touching had become a courtesy they offered each other, a sign of their considerable mutual respect.

“I truly believed that once we set up this trip they’d at least cease their aggression until they met with us,” Plenium said.

“You’re operating under the assumption that Thorn leadership can rein in all the agents they have out there,” Folium said sharply. “They’ve so effectively indoctrinated these people with hatred for Tamarisk over the decades that they couldn’t stop them from committing acts of sabotage even if they wanted to – even if they threatened them with punishment. You can call the prime minister a reformer all you like. You know as well as I do that he would never jail any of his citizens for any action taken against us.”

Plenium turned toward his wife, moving their legs a few inches closer together. He patted her arm for a moment. “I’m afraid you might very well be right,” he said, shaking his head with a touch of resignation. “If that’s the case, then, how do we deal with them going into the future? Even if our mission is a success, will our citizens be any less at risk?”

The queen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “We can’t continue at this level, and as you know, Plenium, I’m not entirely convinced that this mission can accomplish what it needs to accomplish. Yet if we fail at diplomacy, we’re left with only one choice.”

It was a choice none of Plenium’s immediate predecessors had had to make. Tamarisk had not engaged in an all-out war in five generations, and even then the battle had lasted less than a week. Gunnthorn had been to war as recently as three years ago, and their military seemed to be in a constant state of preparation for battle. Some of Plenium’s advisors suggested that the Thorns engaged in short-term battles to keep their warriors sharp. There wasn’t a single person in the entire Tamarisk military who had experience in armed conflict. The king believed that his soldiers had the skill and temerity to defend Tamarisk – but did he really want to find out?

Plenium had underplayed the notion of war earlier in the day when speaking with Miea. He wanted his daughter concerning herself with her studies and the attentions of her boyfriend, not matters as grave as this. This wasn’t her time for such concerns. That time would come soon enough, no matter how Plenium strove to forestall it.

It would have been foolish, however, to take such an approach with Folium – or with himself.

“I shudder at the thought, my queen,” he said, turning again so that his knee nearly touched his wife’s outer
thigh.

Her expression grew grimmer, and she locked eyes with Plenium for a moment before rising and moving toward the window. “We can withstand this if necessary. All of Tamarisk can. We’ve withstood worse.”

The Great Blight. It had been the greatest challenge Plenium faced as king, the greatest challenge anyone in Tamarisk had faced in a century. Vegetation dying on a massive scale with little indication of a cause or a cure. It had come close to bringing Tamarisk to its knees before its stunning reversal. It had also exposed tensions and differences in values between the king and queen neither had been aware of. They’d rarely spoken of it since, and the scars had covered over in time.

“We withstood the Blight,” Plenium said. “I’m not convinced, though, that blight would be worse than war.”

Folium turned back from the window. “Let’s hope we never find out. We need to make sure our diplomacy is enough.”

The bridge connected the towns of Moorewood and Standridge the same way it connected “what was” in Chris’s life and “what would be.”

Chris had taken the day off work to pack belongings from his Moorewood home and bring them to his new Standridge apartment. He’d taken delivery of some furniture this morning, so the apartment no longer resembled an empty warehouse. Instead, it now looked like a residence hotel. He would do everything he could to make it look like a real home soon: posters on the wall, newspapers on the coffee table, jackets over chairs, dishes in the sink. He figured he had at least two weeks where he could justify being a slob to make his place look lived in before he’d have to start picking up after himself.

Other than a bookshelf and the table holding her new laptop, Becky’s room was still empty. Becky had been lobbying for her own computer for months, and Chris decided she would have one when she stayed with him. The thought crossed his mind that this was the kind of elaborate spending fathers did when they tried to buy their children’s affection after a divorce, but he convinced himself that this wasn’t the case here. If anything, it would make up for her having to sleep on the pullout couch until Polly decided to bequeath him Becky’s old furniture. He’d tried to press his soon-to-be ex for a delivery date last night after he put Becky to bed. The conversation quickly descended into thinly veiled accusations and allegations, as nearly every conversation between them did these days. Chris still had no idea when Polly was going to buy Becky a new bedroom set.

Chris crossed back into Moorewood and was back at the house a little before 3:00. Thankfully Polly was gone for the day, having some engagement that was going to keep her out until after dinner. It was entirely possible she’d told him what the engagement was, but if so, Chris had quickly dismissed it. He didn’t feel the need to keep anything Polly told him in his head any longer. The last thing that had registered with any level of permanence was, “I want you to move out.”

Chris wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself while he waited for Becky’s school bus to drop her off. He’d been more efficient at packing and moving than he’d expected, surprised at how little he needed other than his clothes. His books and CDs would have to come later, as moving them now would leave gaping spaces on shelves that Becky would most certainly notice, and the plan was still in place to keep his daughter in the dark until Sunday.

For the thousandth time, Chris asked himself why he’d agreed to Polly’s moratorium on discussing the pending split with Becky. He finally had to accept that his convincing himself that he was doing so to avoid a war while he was still in the house was nothing more than an excuse. Yes, it would have been ugly if he’d defied Polly; it always was.

However, there was a bigger issue at play here: he didn’t know what to say. How could he explain to Becky why her mother and he were splitting when he didn’t entirely know the reason himself? Yes, maintaining a loveless marriage to keep a family intact was a tired and potentially harmful cliche. He’d seen friends attempt to stick together for the kids, and the kids seemed to be the worse for it. Still, he’d reconciled himself to it and truly believed there was no reason he and Polly couldn’t continue to live separate lives while sharing a dinner table. They were both relatively polite people. Couldn’t they have had a polite estrangement?

Clearly Polly didn’t think so. What had driven her adamancy? What was the tipping point that had convinced her they could no longer live under the same roof?

Chris knew there was no way to get into this with Becky without blaming Polly for it. Once he opened up, he knew the hurt and confusion would come spilling out. But as much as he hated Polly for having put them in this position, he knew it wouldn’t benefit either of them – and it certainly wouldn’t benefit Becky – if he laid the responsibility for the decimation of their family at Polly’s feet. At the same time, however, he knew he’d never be able to sell the split as a mutual decision. He simply wouldn’t be able to lie his way through it, and even if he made a Herculean effort, Becky would see through it. She knew him far too well, as evidenced by her obvious understanding that something big was wrong in the household and that this something big was eating away at him.

He pulled out his laptop – not as nice as Becky’s new one, he noted – and surfed plant databases while he waited for his daughter to get home from school. One of his favorite ways to pass time was picking an exotic plant at random and reading about it. For years he’d been telling himself he was going to put together a similar database for the flora Becky and he had created in the Tamarisk stories. Maybe he’d start that next week. He was certainly going to have more time on his hands in the evenings.

Becky showed up about a half hour later. “Hey, what are you doing home?” she said as he met her at the door.

“Budget meetings this morning. Got the rest of the day off as battle pay.”

Becky kissed him on the cheek and dropped her backpack near the foyer closet. “Cool. Is Mom home?”

“She’s not gonna be home until after dinner.”

“Yeah, I think she mentioned something about that and your budget thing too. You gonna make dinner?”

“I was thinking we’d go out.” Chris hadn’t actually been thinking this until that moment, having not considered dinner at all. “Maybe we can go to a movie too. ’Over the Hedge’ opened today. Ben Folds did the songs.”

Chris had been introducing Becky to his favorite music since she was five and Ben Folds was someone they listened to regularly, even though Folds had an unfortunate tendency toward the gratuitous use of profanity. He assumed, however, that the songs the pianist had written for the animated film would be free of f-bombs.

“Yeah, cool. The trailer looked great.”

Chris loved that Becky used terms like “trailer.” If nothing else, he’d done a good job with her pop-culture education.

“So let’s go,” he said, closing the front door in preparation of heading out through the garage.

“Isn’t it too early?”

“For the movie? Sure. I mean I assume so; we’ll have to check the movie times online before we leave. But it’s
not too
early for ice cream at Superpremium and a Dance Dance Revolution throw-down before the show.”

Becky chuckled. “Dance Dance Revolution? Didn’t you walk with a limp for two days the last time we played that?”

Chris shrugged this off. “I’m in better shape now. I’ve been sneaking out of work to go to yoga classes.”