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forest. Back at the shelter I told Piet what Jenoor's answer had been. He accepted it matter-of-factly and didn't even smile. To my surprise, that bothered me. It was as if I wanted him to pump my hand and congratulate me or something. Then it occurred to me that I'd once heard mom mention something to dad about someone she called "Gwennith"-as if this Gwennith had been married to Piet, or anyway been someone special to him. And as if something had happened. But I'd never heard anything more. In the rebel life he'd led, with the political police always looking for him . . . She might have been killed or imprisoned, or they might have had to separate and never found one another again. I was sure Piet would have been a heck of a good husband. He had all the qualities. The thought bothered me for a while. Then, as if he'd read my mind, Piet put down his whittling and, smiling, reached out a hand to me. "Congratulations," he said as we shook. "You've got excellent taste in women. And she's got excellent taste in men. I hope you have lots of years together." A woman. That's what she was, a sixteen-year-old woman. And that 'lots of years" would begin today. Tonight. If there was anything I wanted, it was to make her happy. It would help that my parents had been the kind of role models they'd been: considerate, sharing, affectionate, willing to talk things out and to let each other be themselves. I felt confident, both for the long run and about tonight. In lower middle school I'd heard a couple of guys describe their dads telling them the facts of life. It had amounted to a short biology lecture. But when dad had told me the facts of life, he'd included discussion of rights, comparative emotions, courtesy and consideration, tenderness, and two-way communication, so I couldn't imagine things working out any other way than fine. Maybe-maybe Jenoor and I would even settle down on some world and spend our whole lives there, maybe operating a training camp in hand-foot art. I spent the next hour building daydreams on that theme, until Deneen and Tarel got back with a string of fish. The fork-tailed streakers had been feeding. They were small, but about the tastiest species we ever caught there. Even Bubba preferred them. A little later Jenoor came back too. She'd not only cut jongas, she'd taken Page 17 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html the time and trouble to pick about three cups of tiny pink thrimberries-the closest thing to delicious that Lizard Island had to offer. Thrimberries were so small and so sparse, and the bushes so prickly, that none of us had tried to pick any quantity of them before. It hadn't seemed worth the trouble. When she arrived, we stood together in front of the others and announced our engagement-the shortest engagement I'd ever heard of. It was Deneen who did the whooping-old cool-headed Deneen, who'd always seemed to take everything calmly. She whooped and squealed and jumped around like an enthused eight-year-old, and kissed us both while Tarel stood there watching without saying anything. Then she said she was going to bake the fish they'd brought back-that we'd just have to put up with heat damage to vitamins and amino acids for the sake of festivity. And anyway the thrimberries would make up for the vitamin loss. It was Piet's and my turn to clean the fish, while Jenoor and Tarel took clubs and started hammering the jongas on a flat place I'd cut once on a large log. Deneen went to the debris of dead branches and twigs where I'd cut the three trees that first day, and brought back pieces that were dry enough to burn. Then she dug in her pack and took out her tinder box and spark wheel. We'd only had fire once or twice before on Lizard Island; fire made smoke and light, which theoretically might be seen if anyone was flying past. Besides which, until yesterday's rain, the island had been dry and dangerously flammable. But this day was special, and before long she'd built a small fire, piled tall. When Piet and I had the fish cleaned, he got up and moved the floater off between the trees to a place some hundred and fifty feet from camp. Finally the fish, wrapped in large wet leaves, were buried beneath coals. Then Piet looked at Jenoor and me. "Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded, my face sober, my heart starting to thud. I heard Jenoor say "yes" in a small voice. "All right," Piet said, and stood up. "We'll do this without rehearsing. The two of you stand in front of me." We did. "Tarel, you stand beside Larn. And Deneen beside Jenoor." He watched while we lined up. Then he looked us over and nodded. "Good," he said. "Start of a wedding. Larn, Jenoor, a marriage is a lifetime commitment-a commitment to love and help and care for each other. It is a two-way arrangement that becomes unethical if it is allowed to get lopsided-if it becomes too much take on one side and too much give on the other. Marriage is also a commitment to trust, and to be worthy of trust. Larn, you must know what a marriage should be; you've seen how your parents treat each other. Jenoor, I don't know your parents, but I've seen the kind of people you and your brother are. I'm confident that you too know what a marriage should be. A marriage resembles any close friendship, but in addition it has special responsibilities, and it should have special love. Now. Larn, bearing all this in mind, do you promise to be a good husband to Jenoor forever?" My throat felt as if a whole jonga was stuck in it. I could hardly believe how normally the words came out when I said, "Yes, I do." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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