The Triad Page 26

  She couldn’t believe it when the aviacraft touched down outside the Trading Centre. We’re already here?

  “Do you want to come in, or stay here?” Lesley asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt and rose. She removed a knapsack from one of the cargo containers and offered an apologetic shrug as she added, “It’s a special order, so Mama wants me to count all the items, to make sure everything’s there. I might not be back for fifteen minutes or so.”

  “I’ll wait for you here,” Jayne said, then changed her mind. “Actually, I’ll wait outside. I feel like some air.” She felt like pacing, to work off her nervous energy. But since she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, she’d settle for standing up.

  She followed Lesley off the craft and waved as Lesley disappeared through the Trading Centre’s entrance. She’d hoped that watching people come and go would distract her from thinking about her predicament, but C3’s Trading Centre wasn’t a busy one. The same old thoughts were soon running through her mind, taunting her about her cowardice and reminding her in graphic detail of how Lesley’s face would look when Jayne revealed her feelings.

  The nearby public monitor called to her. Normally she avoided them, but viewing announcements had to be better than the unsettling scenarios playing out in her head, and the monitor area was empty. But when she tapped the On button, she was instantly transported back to the day of Owen’s execution procession, and the bullying she’d suffered at the hands of the lieutenant and her accomplice.

  Jayne’s hands clenched as the monitor replayed scenes of Lesley walking in the procession with someone nattering on in the background about how, only a few days later, the lieutenant commander had learned that she was in a historic triad. Curiously, the voiceover didn’t mention the identities of the other two triad members. The military was still grooming Lesley for a rise to admiral, so maybe they were hoping that Rymellans would eventually forget that one of her Chosens was an Adams.

  The memory of the lieutenant’s hand pressed against the back of her head, forcing her to watch the procession, and the lieutenant’s mockery of her sketches afterward, made Jayne want to turn off the monitor and walk away. But then the recording of Lesley marching in the procession cut to the moments after the body had been carried through the crematorium’s gates. Laura thrust her fist into the air, flowers rained down, and everyone sang the Song of Rymel. The camera zoomed in on Lesley.

  Jayne remembered this! Lesley had almost cried. At the time, Lesley’s reaction had been noteworthy because Jayne wouldn’t have expected an Interior officer to show her emotions at such an event; in fact, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Interior officers weren’t capable of shedding a tear. Now she was absolutely flabbergasted. Lesley, almost breaking down at a public event? What had been running through her mind? Jayne was sure it wasn’t anything to do with the procession itself; Lesley wouldn’t get emotional over that.

  Then it hit her, with a certainty that took her breath away. Mo. They were separated during that period, and not by choice. Had Lesley wondered if Mo was watching? Had she worried about whether Mo still cared? From what Mo had said about the forced separation, Jayne had gathered that they’d had no contact with each other and had vowed not to pester their families for news. They’d stumbled around in the dark, trying to put their relationship behind them while desperately hoping that the other never would. Knowing them as she did, Jayne could only imagine how horrible they must have felt.

  When their Chosen Papers had arrived, an indescribable joy must have banished the despair—only to be crushed at their notification meetings. Jayne had done her best to hold her head high when she’d walked into C3’s Chosen House that day. If she’d known about their situation, the weight added to the existing burden of her family name would have slumped her shoulders, and the first words out of her mouth upon meeting her Chosens would have been, “I’m sorry.” They’d told her about their relationship soon afterward, but she’d been so wrapped up in her concerns about CT134 that she hadn’t immediately appreciated how much they loved each other.

  Sighing, Jayne turned off the monitor and strolled back to the aviacraft. If she’d found herself in a triad with anyone else under the same circumstances, she wouldn’t be worrying about the upcoming family gatherings, how Lesley felt about her, whether she should confess her feelings to Lesley, and how Mo would react. She wouldn’t be worrying about anything. An executioner’s stick would have ended her life months ago.

  Waiting near the craft with her arms folded, she wanted to run and hide when she spotted Lesley approaching a few minutes later. Lesley must hate her. Jayne wasn’t responsible for the triad, but did she have to fall for Mo and act on her feelings? She should have stamped out any romantic feelings for either of them. They’d made an arrangement! Yes, Mo had fallen for her, so Jayne wasn’t the only one who’d slipped, but she’d forced the issue. If she hadn’t shown up at the Middletons’ and insisted that Mo explain why their behaviour had changed, Lesley and Mo might have worked through it with their arrangement intact. No. It wouldn’t have lasted. The arrangement had always been a way to delay the inevitable, and unavoidable, guilt and pain—mainly guilt for her and Mo, and pain for Lesley.

  Lesley reached behind her and patted the knapsack on her back. “Everything duly counted. I hope Mama doesn’t suddenly remember something else we need for tomorrow night.”

  A lump rose in Jayne’s throat. The woman in front of her deserved honesty. “I don’t know how you can stand to look at me,” she blurted.

  Lesley’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “I know it’s not my fault—the triad—but I’m the one coming between you and Mo. I’m the one who’ll be with you in the Joining Chamber. I know this isn’t what you wanted. How could you not resent me?”

  Lesley stared at her. “What’s brought this on?”

  Jayne jutted her chin toward the monitor. “They’re replaying some of the execution procession, focusing on you. Part of the lead-up to our Joining Ceremony, I guess.” She hesitated. Honesty, remember? “When you reached the crematorium’s gates and you were singing the Song of Rymel, you…you were emotional, for a second. I remember wondering why. Now I know.”

  Lesley’s face tightened. “I wish I could forget that moment.”

  “I’m sure nobody thought any less of you,” Jayne said, guessing that Lesley would have considered her fragile composure an embarrassing display of weakness. “I didn’t, and I didn’t know you then. Now I do, enough to guess that you were probably thinking about Mo. When your Chosen Papers arrived, you must have thought your dream had come true. Then I came along.” Expecting to see resentment, even hate, she forced herself to look into Lesley’s eyes. They were unreadable, but not hard.

  “I don’t resent you,” Lesley said. “I won’t lie and say that I’m pleased for you and Mo. Maybe I should resent both of you. But I can’t. I can be sad. I can wish someone else had ended up in a triad. But I can’t resent you and Mo.”

  “I understand why you don’t resent Mo. You want to preserve your relationship, not destroy it. You love her.”

  Lesley almost smiled. “That’s why it hurts.”

  Jayne’s throat tightened. “And I’m responsible for that.”

  “No, you’ve only done what every Chosen does. You’ve fallen in love with your Chosen.”

  If she didn’t speak up now, she’d never forgive herself. Jayne wished she had something to hang onto as she said softly, “I’ve fallen in love with both my Chosens.” There, it was out. Her heart raced. She was looking at Lesley, but Lesley’s face wasn’t registering through her panicked haze. Lesley’s voice reached her ears, though.

  “Are you saying you have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?”

  Jayne swallowed. “Yes.”

  “I wondered a few times, but I didn’t want to presume.”

  She’d wondered? Jayne should have known that Lesley would pick up on her crush. She felt stupid. While she’d agonized, sure that her feelings
were a secret, Lesley had suspected; she’d known about her lovesick Chosen. Now Jayne really wanted to run and hide, but with no apartment, there was nowhere for her to go.

  “I’m glad you said something, because you’ve resolved a dilemma for me.”

  “What dilemma?” Jayne said, her mind busy analyzing the number of ways she could take “glad” and her heart hoping for one of the more positive interpretations. Lesley could be glad because Jayne had handed her an opportunity to temporarily abandon her politeness and put Jayne in her place, something she’d probably been dying to do ever since her two Chosens had grown closer. Jayne forced her mind to slow down and gave Lesley her full attention, determined to listen and prepared to be conciliatory.

  Lesley moistened her lips. “My mood is up and down these days. As I said, you and Mo, it does hurt. At the same time, I’ve known we have to go through this. So I have my good hours, and my bad hours, and sometimes I’m not sure what I’m feeling.” She shifted her weight. “But I do know that I’m feeling something more than friendship—for you—and I’ve been trying to decide whether to tell you before the Joining Ceremony. I’m mainly worried about Mo. Now that you know, she has to know.”

  Jayne was struck dumb! Okay, she’d allowed a teeny-weeny part of her to hope that Lesley felt the same way. Well, Lesley hadn’t used the word love, but Jayne would take “more than friendship”! But realizing she’d forced the issue again, Jayne somehow found her tongue. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about Mo, too. I also wasn’t sure whether to keep my feelings to myself until after the Joining Ceremony. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.”

  Lesley shook her head. “No, I’m glad you did. I think it’s what I’ve wanted. The idea of keeping my feelings from Mo hasn’t been sitting well. There will never be a good time. I know that from experience,” she said wryly. “No, I’m glad everything’s out in the open. Having said that, there’s already so much going on, not only with all the upcoming social events, but with me coming to terms with you and Mo, that I think it would be best for us to not…get more involved until things settle a bit.”

  Forget about leaping into her arms, then. Jayne pushed the silly fantasy aside. With that heavy knapsack on her back, Lesley would probably tumble backward and crack her head open, anyway. “I agree,” she said honestly. She’d require all her energy to get through the incessant socializing, and her relationship with Mo already had her off balance at times. But her emotional turmoil probably paled in comparison to Lesley’s. She’d rather they take their first steps beyond friendship when Lesley was hurting less than she was now, when their relationship would feel good, not bad, and be less tainted by their concern for Mo. Right now… “What about Mo?”

  Lesley stiffened and her eyes grew wary. “We’re going to the crypt tomorrow. I’d rather not talk to her about it before then.” She frowned in thought. “I’ll tell her the day after, in the evening. I don’t want to tell her right before we’re supposed to go out for lunch and make small talk all afternoon.” It sounded like Lesley wanted to talk to Mo alone, a desire that Jayne understood and supported. Lesley cleared her throat. “Shall we go?”

  Since Lesley slid open the aviacraft door and motioned for Jayne to board, Jayne took the question as a rhetorical one. As she slid into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt, she gave Lesley a sidelong glance. When Lesley caught her eye and smiled, a burst of warmth permeated Jayne’s chest and she couldn’t help but grin. They wouldn’t act on their feelings for a time, but at least she could be honest with Lesley from this point forward.

  *****

  Mo’s grip on Lesley’s arm tightened as the triad approached the Middleton family crypt. Lesley turned to give her a reassuring smile, but Mo was focused on her feet. Jayne walked on the other side of Mo, perhaps wanting to offer comfort by taking Mo’s free hand. If she did, Lesley wouldn’t mind. She’d already quashed one childish fit of jealousy today, when Jayne had offered to embellish the article Mo intended to slot near her mama. Mo had agreed, and Lesley’s territorial instincts had stirred. When it came to Susan, supporting Mo was her domain! She’d been there, seen Mo at her worst, and stuck by her. What did Jayne think she was doing, carefully unrolling the article and adding a flowered border? Didn’t she have the decency to stay out of it instead of sticking her nose in where she wasn’t wanted?

  Fortunately Lesley had kept her immature rant to herself, and had felt doubly silly when Jayne had beckoned to her and pointed to a spot in the border where Lesley could sign her name. Time. She would eventually adjust to this new world, understand that Jayne hadn’t and wouldn’t diminish her in Mo’s eyes, and accept that love wasn’t finite, that giving love to one Chosen didn’t take love away from the other. Until then, Lesley would try not to berate herself too much over her inevitable jealousy.

  When they reached the crypt’s entrance, Mo let go of Lesley’s arm and pushed the door open. Lesley and Jayne followed her inside; the carpeted corridor swallowed their footsteps as they walked the length of the crypt. Mo stopped outside a door with a silver nameplate that listed three names. Lesley’s gaze lingered on the most recently added one: Susan Anderson Middleton. She put her hand on Mo’s shoulder. “Do you want a few minutes alone, first?”

  “No.” Mo swung the door open and went inside.

  Lesley followed her, murmuring, “Come on,” over her shoulder, in case Jayne wasn’t sure whether she should follow, too. She stepped to Mo’s side. The offering wall faced the door; the walls to her left and right contained four resting spots each. Mo wouldn’t occupy one of the vacant ones; she’d rest in the Thompson crypt. Not knowing what Mo wanted to do first, Lesley waited for her lead, aware of Jayne hovering behind them.

  Mo finally stepped toward her mama’s resting place and pressed a trembling hand against the cold marble. “Hello, Mama,” she said, her quiet voice sounding louder than it should in the hushed room.

  Lesley closed her eyes as the memories came flooding back: racing home on her bike in response to Mama’s beep, her shock at Susan’s death, Mo clinging to life, and the terrible aftermath—Mo sad and gaunt and lost in her baggy uniform, the nightmares, her depression, Lesley’s helplessness; her guilt over wishing to have the old Mo back, and her joy when the old Mo returned. She opened eyes filled with tears and looked at Mo now, her dear, brave Chosen, whom she loved so utterly and completely. The triad would never change that. Lesley’s feelings for Jayne, which she expected to grow into love, would never change that, nor would Mo’s relationship with Jayne.

  She glanced behind her when Jayne shifted her weight. Jayne’s expression conveyed concern and sympathy. With the exception of the Middletons and Thompsons, anyone else’s presence would have irritated Lesley. But Jayne wasn’t here to gawk, and she’d be a Thompson soon enough.

  As Lesley returned her gaze to Mo, it struck her that Jayne couldn’t visit her parents’ resting place. Would she want to? If Jayne did, Lesley would have been the first in line to question Jayne’s desire—a year ago. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Jayne definitely saw her parents as criminals, but they were still her parents. She could condemn their violations without forgetting that they’d raised and loved her, and that she’d loved them, before something went terribly wrong. From the little Jayne had said and Lesley had inferred, Jayne struggled to reconcile two opposing views of her parents; perhaps she always would. If she somehow managed to look back on her time with them fondly, Lesley wouldn’t be as alarmed as she would have been before meeting her.

  Mo twisted and held out her hand. “Les,” she murmured.

  Lesley stepped to her side and slipped her hand into Mo’s.

  “Mama, Les and I, we’re Chosens. I was right.” Mo didn’t smile. “We’ll be Joined soon. I wish…I wish you were here.”

  Lesley squeezed Mo’s hand and said, “Being Mo’s Chosen is what I’ve always wanted.” She felt a bit silly, talking aloud to a dead woman, but this was Mo’s visit, and Mo preferred to actually speak, rather than hold
the conversation in her head. I’ll take care of her, Susan. I promise.

  “There’s more,” Mo said. “Les isn’t my only Chosen. I have two. Yes, two. They call it a triad.” With her free hand, she motioned for Jayne to join them. “This is Jayne. Jayne Adams. Yes, that Adams. She’s my other Chosen, and Les’s other Chosen. We’re all each other’s Chosen. Oh, and we’ll all be Thompsons.”

  “I’m honoured to be your daughter’s Chosen, and Lesley’s,” Jayne said. Mo grabbed her hand. “I don’t really have anything to offer them,” Jayne continued, “but I’ll always be loyal.”

  Jayne had more to offer them than her loyalty; she had her trust, her art, her strength. But Lesley kept her thoughts to herself. The last thing she wanted was to make Mo suspicious of her feelings for Jayne. Not here.

  “She’s a wonderful artist, Mama,” Mo said. “She sketches. You’d like her drawings. I wish you could see them. And Les is on her way to commander—no, admiral! But you already knew that.” With her fingers, she traced her mama’s name on the plaque that marked the resting spot. “I’ll be back soon,” she said softly, then heaved a loud sigh.

  “Good-bye,” Lesley murmured, and heard Jayne do the same.

  Still holding her Chosens’ hands, Mo led them to the offering wall. Lesley reached for Jayne’s hand, forming an intimate circle. They chanted together. “Disobedience means death. Death to those who commit a Chosen Violation. Death to those who disobey. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way.” Rather than clapping, they merely nodded to each other and broke the circle.