I nodded, feeling awkward. I shoved a bag I hadn't realized I'd held back into the cardboard box where the hearth-keepers stored them.
"So things went smoothly?" I asked.
Her face turned somber. "Yes. Although. . "
"What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
I could feel there was something she wasn't saying, something she wanted to say but perhaps felt she couldn't. . or shouldn't.
Suddenly I wanted the older Amazon to talk to me like she would anyone else. I was tired of being queen twenty-four/seven, of having everything I did and said analyzed because of my position.
"You can tell me, you know," I said as casually as I could. I didn't want her to think my comment was an order. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but I also wanted her to want to tell me. In the middle of rolling radishes over in their box, so they showed at their best, I paused.
I hadn't felt like this in a long time. . didn't let myself feel like this.
Lao, unaware of my moment of sudden insight, placed her hands on her hips and stared toward the domed capitol building that dominated the square. "I'm not sure about that high priestess. She's got ideas. . " She dropped her attention to some basil and muttered under her breath.
"What?" I prompted.
When she looked up, her eyes were clear and direct. "I heard what she wanted to do to Bern. How you wouldn't let her."
I shifted my eyes then and pretended to study a group of college kids dressed in cutoff sweatpants and skin-tight tanks. "It isn't Bern's responsibility to protect the tribe; it's mine."
Lao nodded. "Thea mentioned that too. . " Then she wandered to the other side of the booth to help two soccer moms who were ooing over a small collection of hand-carved fetishes Sare had sent along.
My fingers tightened on the radishes, snapping their green tops off into the bin.
Thea had talked about me to Lao, or at least in front of Lao and, I guessed, questioned my choice.
My time with the hearth-keepers and my desire to put my role to the side for a while was quickly forgotten.
I was beginning to doubt my decision to leave Thea behind and beginning to wonder what I would find when I returned to camp.
At nine, Bern and I left. Mel's shop didn't open until eleven, but I wanted time to talk to her alone-before the son showed up for work, assuming he was working today and he and Mel hadn't taken their relationship to a level I didn't want to think about.
Based on the fact she'd gone with him to Michigan, I was fairly certain that was a lost hope.
Peter was attractive; there was no denying that. When I'd first met him, I'd actually encouraged Mel to hook up with him, but that was before I knew he was a son. Now I hoped she'd wised up.
But I doubted it. Mel was too stubborn for that, and as I said, I already had evidence to the contrary.
Bern rode shotgun again, a silent shotgun.
When we pulled into Mel's lot, I gestured for her to grab the basket filled with produce I'd taken from the booth-a kind of peace offering.
With Bern walking behind me, I paced toward the building.
I was nervous. It was a strange thing to realize and admit even to myself. I hadn't seen Mel in a while, and our time together then had been volatile, but for a long, long time Mel-and her family, but mainly Mel-had been one of the most important people in my life. Even more important than my own mother. A lot more important than my mother.
We'd made some ground in repairing our relationship last fall, but I knew if she had bonded with the sons, what I was going to ask of her would split her loyalties. And there was every possibility she would choose the sons over the Amazons.
I wasn't looking forward to it.
Mel's shop and home was in a hundred-year-old school set on about an acre on the Near West Side of Madison. She'd bought the place from the city ten years earlier. There were two buildings on the property-the old school itself, where Mel and her family-her mother, grandmother, and Harmony, her teen daughter-lived and worked, and the old gym/cafeteria. That's where I along with a couple dozen other Amazons had stayed last fall.
We entered the main school from the side, through the basement. The shop's door was in the front, but it would be locked. The basement was where Mel's grandmother, an ex-high priestess, ran her fortune-telling and other new age arts business. It was also where Mel's mother, a warrior, kept her gym.
I was hoping to see either of them first, as a warm-up of sorts before facing Mel.
I opened the door and walked into a room filled with the last thing I'd expected to see-babies. There were at least a dozen of them, tucked inside round-bottomed plastic seats. The kind of combination seat/carrier the baby I'd lost had been in.
I froze; it was like walking into a nightmare.
Behind me Bern muttered, "Babies."
My body relaxed, released the air I'd been holding in my lungs. She saw them too. For a second I'd really thought. . well, Bubbe, Mel's grandmother, was a powerful priestess. I wasn't completely sure she couldn't have known I was coming and plotted the perfect greeting. Be planning to make me sort through the lot of them to try to discern the baby I sought as some kind of worthiness trial.
As if on cue, the old priestess walked into the room. She had a baby propped up on one shoulder and was rubbing some kind of root over her sleeve. When she saw me, she stopped.
"You are here, dorogaya, Zery. . "
One of the babies on the floor began to fuss. With a shake of her head Bubbe walked over and shoved the root into his mouth. Loud sucking noises followed and the infant quieted immediately.
She moved to another seat, this one empty, and placed the child she held inside. Standing, she said, "My days of watching babies, they should be over, but Dana, she has convinced my daughter to run a program for new mothers in the old gym. And me, I'm left with these. . " She gestured to the seats and sighed. Her gaze on me, she asked, "How about you, solnyshko? Have you a wish for a baby?"
I wasn't sure how to answer. I wanted a baby, a particular baby, but not for myself. I hoped Mel's grandmother wasn't looking into my future. . near or otherwise.
"You know me, Bubbe. My only wish is to keep the tribe strong. I do that by being a dedicated queen."
She puckered her lips. "If only that were such a clear path." Her blue eyes were sad, reminding me what she had done to protect the tribe. She'd stolen Mel's son and made her think he had been born stillborn. All to keep his birth and Mel's desire to keep him from driving a wedge between her granddaughter and the tribe.
It hadn't worked. Mel had left anyway and Bubbe had borne the secret for years. She'd revealed the truth to Mel last fall, but I didn't know what had happened after that or if Mel had forgiven her.
I studied the older Amazon, trying to read her body language, but she was, as always, inscrutable. I'd given up and was turning to introduce Bern when another female rushed into the room. This one was young, flushed in the face and stinking of old milk: Dana, a hearth-keeper who had come to live with Mel when she learned she was pregnant with a son. I hadn't seen her since then.
"Zery!" She rushed toward me, her face glowing.
Before I could dodge her enthusiastic greeting, Bern had stepped forward and shoved the basket full of produce between us.
"Oh." Dana stopped short. She glanced at Bern, her eyes filled with curiosity but zero intimidation. Dana was one of those rare beings who found good in everyone so saw little to fear from anyone.
It was strangely reassuring to see that hadn't changed.
"Have you seen him?" She stopped next to one of the carriers and scooped a bundle from inside. The baby was red and ugly, with eyes that were screwed shut against the light. "I named him Pisto," she murmured.