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I cleared my throat. “He’s a rodent catcher, ’mara. He needs to stay outside.”
A fat droplet of rain hit her cheek and she jumped. Before she could wipe it away, my fingers were there.
“Better get the laundry inside before it’s soaked,” she said, although she made little effort in actually moving away from me.
“Yeah, we better,” I agreed.
But neither of us moved.
When the drizzle became too heavy, we stripped the lines and headed back inside, dropping the baskets in the service room.
Twyla’s festive skirt was spread wide on the floor—the one she’d been wearing when we’d first met. Gods, had that only been a week ago? It seemed like a lifetime away. But now, the skirt was bare of its beads and accessories.
“What happened?” I asked, nodding towards the skirt.
“Oh.” She threw a glance at the skirt as she arranged the baskets. “I wanted to give Ella a pregnancy gift, and the only thing I know how to do is make clothes, so...”
She stacked the baskets and pointed to a pile of clothes on the cluttered desk. “I already made baby things for the twins. Do you think she’ll like it?”
I reached out and carefully picked up a tiny onesie, my throat thick with an emotion that was hard to process. She’d taken such care with the little garment, even placing little expandable buttons in the back that could be loosened as the baby grew. My jaw moved but no words came out.
“What?” she asked, peering over my shoulder. “Do you think I should label the clothes 1 and 2? So they can tell the twins apart? I read on a mommy page that that’s helpful.”
I still couldn’t speak so I just nodded. There had to be at least ten different articles of clothing in the baby pile.
She moved around the room, trying to clear the mess as she went. Scraps of fabric littered the floor like a haphazard carpet.
“This is the dress I’ve been working on for Ella,” she said, indicating a silky blue fabric that was draped across the window seat. I didn’t know much about women’s clothing or what was fashionable, but that surely had to be a stylish number. It was cut modestly enough, with billowy sleeves and intricate beadwork around the collar, waistline and hem.
She turned the dress around. “I put in an adjustable ribbon at the back so she can wear it now or after she has the babies. What do you think? Is the color okay? I didn’t have that many options but I noticed that Ella favors blue a lot and I had to guess the measurements... What? You’re staring.”
I don’t think she understood how much her actions affected me. Hell, I couldn’t even process everything I was feeling right now. The very idea that she’d thought about Ella’s babies’ comfort and decided she should help in some way...that was truly selfless. And the fact that she wanted to do something nice for Ella without cause...there were too many emotions rolling through me. She barely knew Ella.
I tried, I really did, not to compare her to Riane. People were different, and it wouldn’t be fair to list their qualities side by side. But the problem was that Twyla’s list of attributes was a never-ending list while Riane had stopped short on page one. The one thing that was most prevalent in my mind was the fact that Twyla seemed to enjoy giving, where Riane had taken. She’d taken so much from me, both emotionally and monetarily, that I’d been bereft inside and out.
Did I do something wrong? Her mental voice snapped me out of my emotional state.
“No, ’mara,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”
She smiled, and her pleasure at my approval washed over me like a warm wave.
And in that moment, I knew. I knew I’d never be able to give her up.
I’d been operating on the assumption that she’d return to Royal One someday, back to a Star she was familiar with. But just the thought of it made my fists curl and stomach ache sharply. She was mine. This thoughtful, kind, loving, selfless being was mine alone. And I’d do anything to keep her by my side. Always.
My fingers thrummed across the soft curve of Twyla’s bare shoulders. She’d been asleep for hours, lips parted in a soft snore and occasional snort that made me smile. I, on the other hand, had been absently watching her for most of the night, trying to memorize how she looked in my bed. The slight slant of her nose and the pink curve of her lips... My mind was awhirl with the fear that this happiness—this feeling of utter completion—was only temporary. Sure, the past few weeks had been the purest form of joy and pleasure intermingled that I never, ever thought I’d experience again. But that didn’t mean I could overlook the obvious: Twyla didn’t belong on my Star.
I took a deep breath and pleasantly noted that she no longer smelled like herself—that is to say, she no longer smelled only like herself. Now she seemed enveloped in a protective layer of my scent, a darker smoky note that triggered a sense of protectiveness within me. I wondered if my scent had changed as well.
I must have tightened my hold on her because she moved against me in her sleep, gibberish on her lips. I smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Little doubts nagged me like jabs of a needle poking into my skin. How long could this last?
Because my life was here, on this Star. Perhaps when I was young, I’d yearned to travel the universe and explore life on different Stars. The notion was so foreign now that I wondered if I’d ever been an adventurous sort at all.
Was it a sin to wonder how life would have turned out if my family hadn’t been ranchers? I knew I should be grateful for the relative privilege—the land, the beautiful home and livestock...it was many times more than what others in the community had. But it was also the anchor that kept me tethered to this Star.
I knew I couldn’t give up on my family’s legacy. I refused to be the only Holloway that did—it seemed sacrilegious and blasphemous just to even consider it. No, my life was here, with the animals I held dear and the people who made this Star feel like home.
