Venus of Dreams (21 page)

He squeezed her hand. "You're the first Plainswoman I ever had to ask." He smiled as he looked up. "It's all right. Customs are different where I come from. I wouldn't hold that against you. I was going to be the bondmate of a woman on the Islands." A look of pain crossed his face. "LaDonna looks a little like her, except for having blue eyes and being taller. I guess that's why I went to her when I came here."

"A bond?" Iris said, intrigued and a little appalled. "You mean, just her and you—for years?"

"Years, maybe for life. I loved her. It's over now. I never thought it would be, but it is."

She knew about such customs, but she had never met a man who would want one woman so much. Angharad would be shocked; she might not even want Iris to spend time with Chen if she found out about this. "You'd better not say anything about that," she warned.

"Don't worry. I know that much." He stroked her arm. "Maybe you won't want me in your room now."

"But I do." She could hardly believe that she had said that. She suddenly felt dizzy, and wondered if she would be able to stand. He might come to love me, she thought, both frightened and drawn by the possibility.

He stood up and reached for her arm.

He was asleep beside her. Iris stroked Chen's dark hair, remembering how he had been inside her. He had been gentler than Jon, his smaller body more matched to her own.

Chen opened his eyes and touched her face. She ran her hand along his smooth chest. "Only one man?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, he taught you." He stretched; her nipples brushed against his chest. "Have to get ready for work."

"Not yet."

"Right now." He kissed her and then sat up. "Don't you usually do some lessons in the morning?"

"When there's time."

"Then you should get ready to do them." He reached for his robe as he got out of bed, then turned his head. He was looking at her strangely; she could not tell if his eyes revealed joy or sorrow.

"What is it, Chen?" she asked, longing for him again.

He seemed about to speak, then pulled on his robe and hurried from the room.

The first snow of the winter had fallen in the night. Iris watched from the front door as Chen made his way toward the square; he lifted his booted feet as he waded through the drifts.

"Get away from that door," Angharad said as she entered the hall. "Do you want us to freeze?" Iris stepped back as the door closed. Angharad pinched her daughter's cheek. "Can't wait for the night, I expect." She smiled. "I want to talk to you for a minute." Iris moved toward the common room. "Not there, upstairs."

Iris followed her mother up the stairway, feeling apprehensive; she was so used to Angharad's finding fault with her that she was already trying to think of what she could have done.

They entered Angharad's room. Iris sat in the straight-backed chair near the window while her mother seated herself next to the small screen on her desk. Angharad looked rested; the rose-colored blouse she wore lent some color to her face. "Don't look so woeful. Iris. I know I've said some hard things to you, but you're a good child, a good daughter. You seem to be settling down lately."

Iris relaxed, leaning back in her chair.

"Chen seems a decent young man," Angharad continued. "He's not idle, he's been doing his job at the town hall, and he's been a very pleasant guest these past three weeks. Of course, he isn't very talkative, but I don't suppose you mind that."

Iris kept her face still. Angharad would be surprised if she knew how many conversations she and Chen had shared, and what they had discussed. She could share her thoughts with him as she had with no one else, and the words he had never been able to utter with others had spilled from him in a stream of whispers as they huddled together in her bed. Unlike Jon, he did not distract her from her lessons; he had made a game of her studies instead, refusing to yield to her caresses until she had finished her work. She was growing as close to him as she had ever been to anyone.

There was danger in that, she knew. Only the night before, he had frightened her with his intensity and a whispered, repeated phrase. "I love you," he had said, "I love you, I can't leave you, I want you with me." She had not even protested the words, the impossible demand. Already, she was beginning to dread the time when he would have to leave.

"LaDonna even says that he treats Mira and Tyree as if—well, he's very good to her children," Angharad said. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Tyree will be old enough to leave us before long, and Mira and Sylvie will be the only children left in the house. Constance is hoping to have another, but I don't know if the Counselor—"

Angharad paused and picked up the carving Chen had made for her, smiling as she gazed at her own face captured in the wood. Iris frowned. The carved Angharad, with its strong chin and wide, blank eyes, had an appearance of stubborn foolishness; it was the look of a woman proud of her ignorance and obstinacy, yet her mother did not seem to notice the subtle criticism.

"Nice, isn't it?" Angharad said. "He's doing one of LaDonna now. Maria's longing for one. Chen could probably sell these here and make a little bit—they're much nicer than holo portraits, more personal."

"You were saying," Iris began tentatively. "Are you planning another child?"

A sigh escaped her mother's lips. "I have a few hopes. You know Ronell Tinas. I sometimes think of having one with him. He comes through here often enough to see his relatives. And I'm only thirty-two, so—" Angharad sighed again. "I wish the Counselor would just tell me to go ahead, but—" She set the carving on her desk. "There's nothing to stop you, though. I thought perhaps you might consider it."

Iris tensed. "I'm not ready."

"I was about your age when I became pregnant with you, and without much more experience. You'd have plenty of help, because Lilia's Sylvie is over a year old and Constance isn't likely to get approval before next year. It might be good to have the group of children grow up together."

Iris twisted her hands together, feeling trapped. "I can't," she whispered.

"I thought you were quite taken with Chen. Is there something I don't know?"

Iris shook her head.

"Then I don't see the problem. He's a good man, and he'd bring some new genes into our line. He hasn't gone near anyone else for the past two weeks, so he must think something of you." Angharad rested an elbow on her desk. "These early days with a man, they're the best. You never quite recapture them afterward. They're even better to recall when you have a new life inside you."

"Chen might not want a child," Iris said.

"Don't be silly. Why shouldn't he? Any normal man does. He'll be flattered that you think enough of him to bear his child, bring something of him into the world."

Iris was not so sure. She knew Chen's thoughts, his dream of leaving Earth again. He might not want to leave his child behind. "Anyway," she said, "I don't know if I want a child yet. I might want to travel first, like Julia."

"How?" Angharad struck the desk with a fist. "Julia had a skill and was needed somewhere else for a while. There are mind-tours if you want to travel, and you wouldn't have all the trouble and expense of moving around. I don't understand you, Iris. I thought you were finally getting some sense into your head. Julia didn't have to tell me when it was time to have a child—I knew."

Iris wrapped her arms around herself. A child would bind her to the farm forever, and she would not even have the consolation of Chen's occasional visits if he managed to get back to the Islands.

"What's wrong with you?" Angharad went on. "Don't you care about our line? Do you want Elisabeth's descendants to be its only branch? A line is stronger when there are many branches, and ours—" She paused. "We have only three generations of my line in this house, thanks to my mother's foolishness in waiting so long to have me. We need another generation, and I want to see great-grandchildren someday." She waved a hand. "Look at you, in that old shirt and pants, with all your hair pulled back in that plain way—you don't even try to make yourself attractive to men. How soon do you think you'll get another good man in your bed?"

Iris was wounded. "Chen thinks I'm pretty," she burst out.

"Then take advantage of that. Oh, Iris, I don't mean to be cruel. I just know that when you have a child, things will seem different to you. You'll be proud of bringing a new life into the world. You won't be so lost in your own thoughts. You value those lessons of yours so much—well, you'll have a child to tell them to, if you want. I don't know if I'd like it, but I'd go along if you don't addle its brain with too much learning. Those lessons of yours won't be good for anything else except telling a child a few stories."

"Don't say that!" Iris screamed.

"Do you want the household to hear you?"

"I don't care! You're my mother, and you don't know anything about me. You don't know what I think or what I feel and you don't care as long as I don't get in your way or make you look bad in front of your friends. You never wanted anything except this house and the farm."

"Why should I feel ashamed of that?" Angharad replied. She wiped at her eyes with one sleeve, looking as if she was about to cry. "This has been our farm for generations. It's you who don't understand me. You treat everything I've done as if it's worthless, and then accuse me of not loving you. Who do you think I've worked for? For Lincoln, for my household, for you. Everything I've done has been for others, even being on the town council or being mayor. It may help my household, but for me, it's just more worry and more work."

"You must get something from it for yourself," Iris said.

"Not as much as you might think. Oh, I won't say I don't like the position, but if that was all there was to it, I'd have given up trying for it long ago. Don't you see? I just want you to be happy, to have what I've had, to take some joy and pride in our line and our home."

Angharad covered her face. Iris went to her quickly and clasped her hand. "Mother, I know. I shouldn't have said what I did. But what if I want something else?"

Angharad looked up; her lashes were wet. "Think about it at least," she murmured. "You might change your mind, and want a child. You could always travel later—I'd even pay for it myself if it's what you really want. You'd probably find that you'd be glad to get back here."

"I'll think about it," Iris said, feeling defeated by her mother's tears.

Iris trudged through the snow, squinting in the bright, reflected light. The sun, white against the blue sky, was a cold flame emanating no warmth. Two old women were entering the church, clutching rosaries in their gloved hands; a small group of women and visiting men went into Lincoln's only tavern. The shops were shuttered, the square empty except for one bundled figure moving in Iris's direction. A mittened hand waved; Iris saw Laiza's face under a fur hat.

Her friend hurried toward her, kicking up small clouds of snowflakes with her feet. "Iris!" Laiza grabbed her arms. "I was just going to your house, I wanted to tell you in person."

"Tell me what?"

They linked arms as they walked toward the town hall. "You'll never guess. I'm leaving Lincoln."

Iris felt a sharp pang of envy. "How did you manage that?"

"My father. He just called me yesterday to tell me. He did some work in the Mountain States last year, and got to know this woman pretty well, and one thing led to another—anyway, the Linker this woman works for in Denver needs a tier gardener, and my father talked his friend into setting up an interview for me. The Linker just called me this morning. She asked a few questions, then said I could have the job this spring."

"Oh, Laiza, that's wonderful." Iris tried to sound happy. Laiza's job would not be too demanding. Machines could have done the work, or the Linker could have tended her own garden, but Linkers were busy people and having a human gardener was a sign of prestige. The gardeners also encouraged the belief that a garden would not fare well without human aid.

"I don't know that much about the work," Laiza said, "but I've worked in the greenhouse and it can't be too different. The Linker seemed to think I knew enough, and I've got some time to learn a few things before I go. Anyway, the worst that can happen is she won't like me and'll send me back, so I'll get a free trip and some credit out of it."

"You're lucky your father thought of you."

"I know. Look, if it works out, maybe Angharad'll let you visit. We could see Denver together. Just think of all the men!"

"You'd better be careful about that," Iris replied. "Linkers are funny about sex. Some of them go for a long time without a lover. Some of them even have bonds."

"I guess you'd know. Must be all that thinking they do."

"And from what I've read and seen, some of the men in cities are different. Plainsmen know how to act around women. Some of the others—well, you wouldn't want to know about some of the things they do." Iris stumbled a little, then righted herself. "What does Maria think?"

"She's kind of mad. She says I can go, but she thinks I'll hate it. She's sure I'll come back, so she isn't making that much of a fuss."

They stamped up the cleared steps of the town hall and entered the warm building. The wide hall was empty, and the doors of the rooms on either side were closed. Little town business would be transacted here until Angharad's inauguration, and meetings could be held over screens. In one sense, the town hall was an unnecessary relic, but the community enjoyed the ritual of gathering there for meetings or private chats with members of the council, and the hall could shelter visitors on those rare occasions when there was no space in anyone's house.

The two young women took off their mittens and rubbed their hands. "Is Chen here?" Laiza asked.

"He's probably in one of the rooms."

"Peter thinks he's funny-looking," Laiza whispered, "but I think he's handsome. He looks like he's got a good body."

"He does."

Laiza giggled. "You like him a lot, don't you?"