“What is it?”
He lifted his shoulder in a small shrug, a purely human gesture he’d picked up over the years. Mostly from Valerie.
“It is a meat dish, cooked for weeks, and seasoned with Keriv’i spices.”
“Weeks?” she questioned, raising a brow.
“Pax,” Dravka said. “She would make it for us, for my father and I, a few times a year.”
Valerie bit her lip, regretting bringing up the question entirely. Because Dravka’s grief was something that would never end.
“It’s strange,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the food before him...the rare steaks, the gummy potatoes in a gravy sauce, the lab-grown Brussels sprouts topped with mushroom shavings, “to think that I’ll never have it again. It’s been over twelve years since I’ve had it…but I don’t think I realized it until now.”
Valerie’s stomach knotted. Her toes twitched.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Dravka, I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” he murmured, sliding his gaze up to her own. “Of course I know, Val.”
He resumed eating, cutting one of his five steaks into smaller pieces. It was one thing they had in common, their grief. They’d both loved their families so much. And they’d both lost them.
“If we had meat that wouldsurvivecooking for weeks,” she whispered, peeking up at him from underneath her lashes, “I would make it for you.”
Valerie felt relief when his low chuckle filled the room. His eyes came to her, those beautiful eyes that she’d always thought resembled dark opals. All blue and green swirls.
“I know you would,” was what he replied. “Maybe one day, you will.”
Valerie’s heart fluttered in her chest. She swallowed. “What do you mean?”
The corner of his mouth lifted but his expression was almost hesitant. He didn’t say anything, not a first, but Valerie knew what both of them were thinking.
Then Dravka finally rumbled out, “We could settle on a neutral colony.”
Valerie’s breath hitched.
“All of us, I mean,” Dravka amended. “Away from Everton. Away from the New Earth colonies’ reach.”
Valerie’s eyes slid down to her lap and watched as her fingers twisted together. Her fingernails were bitten down, a nervous, anxious habit that made Madame Allegria look at her with disgust.
“We could have a home. Somewhere with land, somewhere quiet. You could have a garden,” he murmured quietly. “I would build one for you.”
Longing lodged in her chest, even as her nose began to sting. She was fascinated with growing things. Back on Genesis, her mother had managed to acquire seeds from the Trader Market, seeds of a type of flower that had grown on Old Earth called a daisy.
They had planted one together in a little pot of soil in their little home. Valerie had often watched it for long hours, swearing that she could see a little bit of movement beneath the soil. Everything on the New Earth colonies was grown in labs. So it was a forbidden excitement to have seeds of something and to try to grow life from them.
The daisy had grown, slowly. Valerie had lovingly watched it and her mother had lovingly watched her. Valerie had stroked its yellow petals with gentleness and gave it a little bit of water every day. They kept it next to a small window in their apartment, so it might get a sliver of light every afternoon—though the sun was only a projection.
All too soon, the petals started to wither. They began to fall into the little nest of soil. Slowly, Valerie had watched it die.
It made her sad but it didn’t deter her. Valerie recognized that beauty was fleeting. And with enough tending, she could make something grow again.
They were some of her favorite memories, growing things in little pots—sometimes cups or jars or pieces of scrap her mother had found—until their home had been littered with them.
After her mother died, however, Valerie had never grown anything again. Not that she could find seeds on Everton anyways. But she would’ve liked to try. If only to remember…
Dravka remembered all this. He remembered because she’d told him over a year ago, just one of their whispered late afternoon conversations.
And he offered to build her a garden. Just the thought brought her such a sharp, aching, stinging kind of joy.
