The Triad Read online

  She couldn’t have kept Mo and Jayne apart forever, and insisting that they stick to their arrangement until it wouldn’t bother her would have been an avoidance mechanism. No such time would ever exist. Her Chosens weren’t intentionally trying to hurt her. She’d have to remind herself of that when—

  The front door thumped shut. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Lesley tensed and stared at the station’s display.

  The bedroom door swung open. “I thought you’d be finished studying by now,” Mo said.

  “I’m reading announcements.” Lesley forced herself to spin her chair around but was too apprehensive to smile. She searched Mo’s face for a clue. When she found one in the set of Mo’s mouth and another in her rigid posture, she felt as if she’d taken a direct laser blast to the chest. Her fingers dug into her legs. She wanted to turn back to the comm station and hide, somehow push through the pain until she could be alone, but its intensity surprised and overwhelmed her. She never could have prepared herself for this.

  Mo shoved her hands into her pockets. “I don’t know what to say—if you want to know.” Her voice quavered. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” Lesley heard someone say. It sounded like her, but that couldn’t be possible, because her head was pounding and she was too focused on not crying to speak.

  “I need to tell you. I know that’s selfish, but I need to do it.” Mo swallowed. “We didn’t sleep together. But we did get physical.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

  Mo’s honest confirmation of Lesley’s suspicion blew away her defences; all hope Lesley had of maintaining her composure abandoned her. She spun back to her desk, rested her head on her arms, and let the tears flow. How much more would she lose that she could never get back? Would she ever stop hurting? One Chosen. She would have been happy with one Chosen.

  “Argamon, Les. I’m sorry. Don’t—oh, Argamon.”

  When Lesley sensed Mo next to her and felt Mo’s hand on her shoulder, she slid her hand from underneath her head and reached for her. She hung onto Mo and held her close, aware of Mo’s sobs but unable to offer comfort. Mo was hurting too, for a different reason. When would water douse the flames and relieve their agony? Would they ever be happy again, or had they pinned their hopes on an empty promise?

  “I’m sorry,” Mo whispered again.

  “Stop apologizing,” Lesley managed to say. “I said this would hurt. I just need to let it out.”

  “My feelings for you haven’t changed.”

  “I know.” If Lesley hadn’t already believed that, Mo’s distress and the misery in her voice would have erased any doubts Lesley had. She knew Mo still loved her, but that didn’t stop her from wishing that she could have Mo to herself. It didn’t assuage her grief. She was no longer the special person in Mo’s life. That wasn’t news, but knowing and accepting were two different things. She’d unreasonably clung to her unique specialness while Mo and Jayne were still holding each other at arm’s length. Their relationship becoming physical was the final tug that ripped that specialness from her fingers.

  She reminded herself that her relationship with Mo was still unique, that they’d share special moments without Jayne. But Mo and Jayne would have their special moments, too. Perhaps that shouldn’t bother her, and perhaps it wouldn’t, in time. Right now, only the losses were real, and the searing pain they left behind. Everything else was based on hope, or perhaps wishful thinking. Struggling to stem another round of tears, Lesley let go of Mo and lifted her head to wipe her eyes, but she couldn’t stop sniffling.

  “I want to stay, but if you want me to go...” Mo’s voice was raw from crying.

  Lesley didn’t want Mo to leave, but she couldn’t pretend everything was okay, not tonight. “I don’t want you to go. But I can’t seem to control myself, so...” She pulled a handkerchief from her desk drawer and held it against her nose. “I’ll understand if you want to go.”

  “I’m staying.”

  Lesley could only nod. Argamon! She’d known it would tear her to pieces, but she’d hoped to at least outwardly handle it better. It could have been worse. If not for that conversation with Jayne...

  Mo slipped her arm around Lesley’s shoulders. Lesley closed her eyes when Mo’s lips brushed her cheek. “I love you,” Mo murmured.

  Love hurts! Yet she’d wither and die without Mo’s love, and could never stop loving her. She drew a shaky breath. “I—”

  Someone knocked at the door. Mo jumped away. Lesley quickly wiped her eyes and shouted, “Just a minute,” but the door opened.

  “Since you’re both here, I—” Mama broke off.

  “Can it wait?” Lesley asked, eyes on her display.

  “No. Mo, give me a moment with Lesley.”

  “Adelaide, if you don’t mind—”

  “Go downstairs and prepare tziva!”

  Lesley could tell from Mama’s hard-edged voice that she’d hold her ground until Mo went. “Go ahead, Mo. I’ll join you in a minute.” Despite her wet eyes and runny nose, Lesley twisted her head to nod at Mo.

  Mo slapped her thighs. “Fine. Who am I, anyway? Oh, just the Chosen,” she muttered as she stormed from the room.

  Mama tutted and pushed the door shut.

  Lesley blew her nose and turned back to the display. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.” Anything Mama might say to her, she’d already said to herself—several times.

  “So, Mo’s just returned from 72, I know Jayne was on 72, and now you and Mo are both beside yourselves. You’ve known this was inevitable from the beginning.”

  Lesley pushed away from the desk and shot to her feet. “So, what, Mama? I shouldn’t be upset? I should have prepared myself? Don’t you think I’ve tried? You have no idea what this feels like. It’s not what you think, anyway. Not exactly.”

  “I have eyes, Lesley. They’ve obviously grown closer.”

  “Yes, they have. Yes, I’ll pull myself together. No, I won’t disgrace the family. Are we done?”

  Mama frowned and stared at her. “If it had been Karen forced into a triad, I would have worried,” she said quietly. “Jason, I definitely would have worried. But you... I’ve worried because it’s Jayne. I haven’t worried about you. You’re the strongest one, you’re the one I push. But I would never have pushed this hard. It’s...difficult to watch you go through this. You have a strong family behind you. You have your papa’s and my support.”

  Lesley’s eyes welled up again. “You think I’m weak, that I need your help.”

  “You are not weak!” Mama snapped. “If you were weak, the triad would have ceased to exist months ago.” She slowly exhaled. “This situation would try the strongest of us. There’s no shame in your tears. You’ll cry, but I know you’ll pick yourself up and keep going. You’ll also keep it in the family, all right?”

  Lesley nodded. Despite Mama’s words, she wasn’t about to start sobbing her way around the house, and she didn’t need Mama to tell her that she had to project a strong public façade—not only for herself and the Thompson name, but for the triad. She’d never show any sign of weakness to her fellow commanders-in-training or her colleagues at headquarters, with the exception of Laura. There was no point trying to pretend with her.

  “We are here to help, and you have two strong Chosens to support you,” Mama said.

  “You think Jayne is strong? I thought you were worried.”

  “Any doubts I had about Jayne disappeared at the Festival of the Way. She has survived. She’s a formidable woman.” Mama raised a finger. “After a few years under our wing, perhaps she’ll realize that.”

  “Don’t push her, Mama. She needs love, not...guidance.” Especially Mama’s type of guidance.

  “With two Chosens, I’m sure she’ll get plenty of love,” Mama said. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t help her settle into our family.”

  And Lesley would be remiss not to watch out for her.

  “Now, come downstairs. We have a few details to work out abo
ut the Joining supper.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” Lesley wanted thirty seconds alone to breathe, then she’d try to make herself halfway presentable.

  “Don’t be long.” Mama opened the door.

  “Thank you for the talk, Mama,” Lesley said. “It helps to know that my current difficulties aren’t disappointing you.” She hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but she did. “It really does help.” Not having to pretend that everything was wonderful while at home would make it easier to pretend that it was when she wasn’t with family.

  Mama’s face softened. “I am proud of you, proud to have you as my daughter. You’ll get through this.” She turned on her heel and left.

  Lesley dropped into her chair with a heartfelt sigh. How she’d longed to hear those words! Any other time, they would have overcome her distress, hardened her resolve to succeed, and reminded her of her strong lineage. Maybe tomorrow. Today she’d tread water, though Mama was right about one thing: she’d get through this. Mama was right about something else, too. Lesley had two strong Chosens—who loved each other.

  *****

  Jayne waited for Carol to finish speaking to a friend over her comm unit, then pulled out her own comm unit when Carol mouthed, “Could be a while.” Ever since Jayne’s unit had beeped twice about half an hour ago, she’d itched to read the dispatch that was probably from Mo or Lesley. Oh, it’s from Lesley. Jayne hesitated. After returning from 72, she’d agonized over whether to write to Lesley, worried that whatever she did would be wrong. In the end, she’d concluded that having Lesley irritated or upset with her for writing would be better than upsetting her because she hadn’t written. The last thing she wanted was for Lesley to think that she didn’t care, that she’d not given her a second thought on 72. Nothing could be further from the truth. Not only was she worried about Lesley, she wanted to be there for her. Lesley would probably gag, if she knew.

  She read the short dispatch and stared at Lesley’s closing words. I’ll be okay. Not, I’m okay. For anyone else, a minuscule difference; for Lesley, huge. Jayne’s stomach knotted. Should she be reassured or troubled by Lesley’s honesty? Should she be disgusted with herself for deliberately hurting Lesley? No, she couldn’t think that way. They’d all known that the alternative—their arrangement—would no longer work, that holding back would hurt them all in the long run. But that didn’t make Jayne feel any better about Lesley. It was a difficult situation for everyone, but Lesley was suffering the most.

  Jayne wanted to see her, and was still debating whether to throw caution to the wind and suggest that they meet for Berry—coward—when Carol lowered her comm unit with a groan.

  “Argamon, that woman can talk.” She pointed at Jayne’s mug on the end table. “More?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “So what were we talking about?” Carol frowned. “Oh, your trading expedition with Lesley’s mama.”

  Jayne smiled. “And Mo. She decided to come along, so we went in her aviacraft.” Adelaide hadn’t protested. Maybe she’d been as relieved as Jayne. “At least I don’t have to worry about what I’ll wear now, to the Joining Ceremony or the celebrations.” No, all she had to worry about was meeting her Chosens’ extended families and their pilot friends and their parents’ friends...and seeing flaming Robert. If she could keep him away from Lesley and Mo, she would. She would have preferred not to have him associate with them in any way. Fortunately Adelaide hadn’t invited him to any of the family gatherings; he’d only be at the Chosen House and the Joining supper. Lesley must have persuaded Adelaide to leave him off the guest lists for everything else. How was Lesley? Jayne resolved to somehow pluck up the courage to ask to see her.

  “You traded for more than your Joining outfit?”

  She nodded. “Adelaide insisted.” And Jayne hadn’t objected. She didn’t have the credits for one outfit, let alone four, and three pairs of shoes, and two cloaks. She’d swallowed her pride and told herself that she was making Adelaide happy and wouldn’t embarrass the Thompsons and Middletons—any more than she already had.

  Carol raised her brows. “I’ve only met her the once, at the supper the day after your notification meetings. At the time, I thought you might have a problem with her.”

  “Everyone was still in shock.” Yet the two families had done their best to welcome her, and when the shock had worn off, hadn’t wavered. Except Jason. That was another worry; Jayne would meet him at one of the family gatherings before the Joining Ceremony. Mo said he’d calmed down and wouldn’t dare cause a scene because Adelaide would never forgive him, but Jayne would still be nervous when Lesley introduced her to him. “They’ve all been great, Carol. Better than I ever would have expected.” Her comm unit beeped twice. Great, now all she’d think about was reading it. “It’s probably from Mo,” she said, trying to sound casual.

  Carol’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Go ahead and read it. I was blabbing for fifteen minutes.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Jayne said, already reaching for her comm unit. She frowned at the sender’s name.

  “What is it?” Carol asked.

  “It’s from one of the members of the art college’s applications committee.” Jayne remembered reading the name in the college’s virtual brochure. She looked up. “What would she want?”

  Carol leaned forward. “Read it.”

  She didn’t want to read it, afraid of what it said. Had one of the committee members taken it upon herself to offer a scathing “critique” of the painting she’d submitted? Jayne braced herself and opened the dispatch.

  Jayne Adams,

  I sit on the applications committee for the C1 Art College. I saw great promise in your painting and would like to take you on as a private student. We would meet one evening a week, preferably Monday or Thursday. As per college guidelines, a third party must be present during our lessons. I always ask the student to bring someone along; it works best if it’s the same person every time. Chosens usually bring their Chosens. I expect you’ll do the same.

  I would appreciate a response to my proposal by Friday. If you accept, we’ll decide on the day and time, and I’ll forward a list of required supplies.

  Yours in the Way,

  Joanna Reed

  Wariness quickly stifled Jayne’s initial burst of shocked excitement. If this instructor had liked her painting, why hadn’t she been accepted into the college? And something about the name... Oh! Reed! Her paintings were in several of Jayne’s art books. Reed was a well-respected nature painter!

  “What’s it about?” Carol asked.

  Jayne handed her comm unit to Carol, her elation dying. Why would someone of Reed’s calibre want her as a student?

  A smile spread across Carol’s face as she read Reed’s dispatch. “This is great!”

  “I don’t know,” Jayne mumbled.

  Carol’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” She set Jayne’s comm unit on the coffee table. “This is what you’ve always wanted.”

  “Maybe it’s a joke.”

  “A joke?” Carol’s brow furrowed. “Why would an instructor send you a prank dispatch? Not only would it violate Article 663, but what would she be hoping to accomplish?”

  To get Jayne’s hopes up and then stomp all over them. As for violating an article, that had never stopped anyone from harassing her before.

  “She sounds sincere to me,” Carol said.

  “Maybe we’ll set up a lesson, and when I get there, the entire admissions committee will be there to laugh at me and tell me it was a joke.”

  Carol tutted. “You don’t really believe that! Come on, Jayne. It’s bad enough that everyone else holds you back. Don’t do it to yourself.”

  “I wonder if those college guidelines were in effect before the Incident.”

  “You’re thinking of your papa.”

  Jayne nodded. As she’d read the dispatch, thoughts of him and Brenda Stewart in his studio had run through her mind.

  “Does it matt
er why those guidelines are in effect?” Carol asked.

  “No, but what if Reed knows details about the Incident?”

  Carol’s brows drew together. “I’m not following.”

  “She’s an artist. She could have known Papa. She might have heard details about the Incident that aren’t common knowledge.”

  “And, what? She decides to play some type of sick joke by luring you to her studio in a re-enactment of...whatever went on?” Carol’s forehead puckered. “To what end? Assume this is a genuine proposal, because it is.”

  But what about others who did know what had taken place in Papa’s studio? What would they think when they heard that an Adams was taking private lessons? Would the presence of a third party be enough to stop the whispers? Stop it! She was being paranoid, at least about that last fear. The files on the Incident were shut tight. Hardly anyone knew the details, and how many of them would know that Jayne was taking private art lessons? She’d be insane to turn down Reed’s proposal. The thought of taking lessons did frighten her, because she’d never worked on her art with anyone—not since Papa. Someone would study her technique, make suggestions, teach her new methods—and offer criticism. Real, constructive criticism, not the knee-jerk kind. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am!” Carol declared with a smile. “Find out if Mo will go with you, then tell Reed you accept.”

  “No.”

  Carol’s eyes bulged. “Jayne!”

  “She said I should bring the same person with me to every lesson. Mo doesn’t have a regular schedule. There’s no way she can be available every Monday or Thursday night.” And Mo wasn’t her first choice, anyway. “I’ll have to ask Lesley.” She wanted to ask Lesley.

  “Oh, because Lesley’s an Interior officer. Her presence will make everyone think twice about reporting bogus violations.”