Текст книги "Return Once More"
Автор книги: Trisha Leigh
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Caesarion picked up my necklace, toying with it the way I often did when thinking of him. “What is this?”
“A family heirloom.”
His eyebrows pinched together as he squinted at the engravings in the moonlight. “The laurel wreath and the palm branch. Not symbols often paired. What does it mean?”
I closed my hand over his. “That sometimes love doesn’t arrive when it’s most convenient, but that obstacles can be hurdled when people care enough to find a way.”
“There is no way, Kaia.”
I scooted to the side, and he shifted off me and onto his back, propped up on his elbows as he studied the sea. I turned on my side, my head resting in my palm so I could drink him in. “I want to know more about you.”
“I would not deny you a single desire.”
A shiver raced down my spine at the implication I heard in his words, something silky and sexual, even though I couldn’t be sure he’d meant to put it there. Down, hormones. “Why are you not betrothed? You are more than old enough, and a Pharaoh of Egypt.”
He glanced at me, gaze lingering a moment before he lay all the way back with his arms behind his head, peering up at the heavens. “My sister is too young to marry.”
I swallowed the revulsion climbing into my throat at the admission. The Ptolemies were a Greek family ruling Egypt and had intermarried for generations. Cleopatra had been married to more than one brother, I thought, but ignored the bio-tat’s confirmations. They hadn’t known better, and Caesarion had not been forced to cross that strange line yet.
It wasn’t strange to him, I knew, and wasting time explaining the facts and dangers of crossing closely related genomes didn’t appeal to me. He would be gone long before it would become a worry for him, anyway, and we were not given time travel so that we could fix Earth Before.
Except, based on Minnie’s reflection, it seemed as though altering previous outcomes had been a consideration at one time.
Caesarion turned his head to look at me, his blue eyes big and full of wonder. “I never expected to know love, Kaia. I have known pleasure, and my sister Selene is a sweet child who will make a fine wife, but love … It is a thing of myth, reserved for the gods.”
I reached out and slid my fingers between his, locking our hands together on the beach between us. “Until now.”
“Yes, my love. Until now.”
“I understand why the guards think me a sihr, but what did they mean by a dark one? I’ve never heard that term before tonight.”
“There are ancient stories of people dressed in black, who appear out of thin air and murder without touching. Their victims simply collapse, turned to liquid on the inside, and the dark ones disappear in the same fashion as, well … as you do. It is superstition, nothing more.”
My heart rattled against my ribs. It didn’t sound like nothing to me. It sounded like Oz had been popping up other places with his Gavreau waver, and perhaps doing more than knocking over pretty girls. How many times had he traveled, intent on changing one thing or another? It had to have been more than once to start the kind of association the guards had made between my appearance and death.
“What is it? You are as white as the stars, Kaia.”
Words snagged in my throat, partially because of the bio-tat, but more because as soon as I brought up the trouble at home, this time was no longer only ours.
“Please, tell me. Perhaps I can help. I know I don’t look it, but I can be quite smart.”
That made me laugh, and the lump in my throat dissolved. “I think you look clever.”
“And handsome?”
“Of course. And handsome.”
He waited, a soft thumb brushing the back of my hand. My muscles relaxed, one at a time, and I knew it was time to ask for his help. It was the reason I’d come back—one of them—and time ran short. “There’s a boy.”
“I do not like the sound of that.”
“Not in that way, trust me.” I gave him a smile. “Like I told you, we have strict rules about traveling through time.”
“The ones you’re breaking here with me.”
“Well, yes. This boy, he’s breaking them, too, but I don’t know why. I followed him the other day and he interfered with an important development that afterward disappeared from history. I don’t know why, or if he’s working alone, or how he can be sure his actions won’t have terrible consequences. It could erase more things in the future.”
Silence hung between us for several minutes. Misery brushed the edges of my happiness, not as potent or desperate as it had been during my questioning with the Elders, but still there. Waiting.
Caesarion stared out across the Red Sea, his features thoughtful, and when he faced me again, his gaze looked reproachful. “How do you know talking with me will not erase the future?”
“I guess I don’t, not for sure. Except we haven’t altered your destiny, or Octavian’s, or Rome’s. Merely the fact that you met a strange girl on your journey, and now your guards have their own dark one tale to tell.”
“But this boy, he changed something you know is important.” I nodded, heartsick, and he continued. “How do you know what the consequences will be?”
“I don’t. We can’t predict the future based on an altered past.”
“Explain.”
“Well … let’s say you decided not to return to Alexandria. There are too many trajectories that could result from that one different decision for our sciences to predict the eventual outcomes. It could change nothing in the larger scope, or it could change everything. It would depend on the choices you made going forward—like, would you try to take back Egypt for your family, or would you be content to leave, to settle in Judea or another province and live your life as a commoner? Would Octavian find you anyway? It’s … too big. We can’t do it. It’s why we don’t change anything.” I sucked in a breath. “At least, that’s what I’ve always believed.”
“But now you do not. Because of this boy.”
“Yes. He’s breaking rules, but Oz isn’t dumb or reckless.” Neither was my brother, but one complication at a time.
We fell silent again, nothing but the sound of the waves sucking at the shore and our quiet, mingled breaths interrupting the night. I felt hesitation from my True, as though for the first time since we’d met he seemed unwilling to be frank.
The look in his eyes reproached me. “I think you have been irresponsible, Kaia. Coming to me. Telling me of the things that will be without knowing what could be affected.”
It stunned me, his admonishment. The tiniest spark of fear ignited in my gut and I wondered if my trust had been misplaced. If he wasn’t as okay with the hand he’d been dealt now that I’d presented him with options. “What do you mean?”
“You, like this boy, have taken unnecessary chances. You’ve been given a gift and in return, accepted a responsibility. We are not so different, you and I. I was born a Ptolemy, my tiny shoulders burdened by the lives of others. My mother died for them, and I will do the same.”
My worry over his betrayal dissolved into anger. If I dug beneath it, I’d find embarrassment and guilt, but I wasn’t ready to go there. “So, you’re sorry I came to find you,” I snapped.
“I can’t be sorry for that. I’m simply saying that people like you and me cannot forgo the best interests of many in order to please only ourselves. No matter our connection, your duty is to your people. It’s to the future. It’s not to me.” His eyes held onto mine, insisting I understand.
“You want to die for duty rather than live for yourself? You want me to go home and pretend we never met, pretend there isn’t a chance we could save you?”
“What is written will come to pass, Kaia. If nothing else results from our time together, I hope you will remember that no matter where your heart lies, the promises you have made your people take precedence. It’s not your job to save me if it is not my destiny to live.”
My brain struggled with my heart, trying hard to ease my anger. He was right. I knew coming here was wrong, that telling him about the future could have consequences I couldn’t see, but I’d done it anyway. It had been selfish. Here with Caesarion, though, I still struggled to see things his way. I wanted to beat my fists into his chest and tell him his noble actions, the way he stood by his people, wouldn’t mean anything at all. Not to anyone. Not in the long run.
Caesarion and Oz had much in common. Oz would be equally appalled at the chances I had taken, the potential risks involved in sitting here, chatting with Caesarion. I knew in my gut he would never do the same, not unless he had solid proof that no harm would be done in the process.
There were too many questions, and none of them would be solved in ancient Egypt. Caesarion and I didn’t have much time left, and I didn’t want to spend it arguing. Or think too hard about anything he’d said.
“I wish you would fight,” I whispered.
“With you or Octavian? Or perhaps the gods themselves?” He winked, easing the tension between us further. “Honestly, I’m not sure who would be harder to move.”
“I’m being serious. You don’t have to die.”
“I do, Kaia. We all do, and I will not run, nor abandon my people to live under Rome’s rule while I watch from a distance. I have accepted the brief nature of my time on this plane, and please … I need you to do the same.”
He thought we were alike, but we weren’t. I wasn’t brave. I didn’t accept that some things were meant to be awful, not now, not after I’d touched him and kissed him and known him.
A quick, silent count to ten dissolved the rest of my irritation, leaving me nothing but raw truth that I was nowhere near ready to accept. I burrowed into Caesarion’s side, resting my head on his chest and marveling in the steady, strong beat of his heart. “We probably have a few minutes before your guards return and decide that murdering me is best, no matter your orders.”
He chuckled and tangled a hand in my hair. We stared up at the sky, the Milky Way a picturesque streak across the navy blue that I’d never seen quite this way. The bio-tat tried to force an astronomy lesson on me without giving up on encouraging me to drop Caesarion’s hand, and I wished I had chewed another couple of painkillers. My whole head throbbed, but the pain held no sway over the agony ravaging my heart.
“Tell me a story about the sky.” My voice sounded wet.
His fingers loosened in my hair, trailing down my neck. “Surely a girl from the world to come knows more than I about such things as stars.”
“Maybe. But you have better stories.”
It was something we’d lost along the way—the ability to be awed by the unknown, to create myths that made sense of the inexplicable, instead of boiling mysteries down to their basest components. It was true I knew the science of the Milky Way, but the science wasn’t beautiful. Right now, when all the universe seemed spun by magical hands of ethereal beings, I craved the sound of Caesarion’s voice telling me of Hathor, of the smeared river of stars that led to the world beyond this one.
And he did. He told me how Hathor was the Egyptian goddess of fertility, of life, and Osiris the god of death and rebirth, a symbol that a corporeal death only marked the beginning of one’s journey.
“Why is Hathor connected with the Milky … um, the river in the sky?”
“Hathor is the milk of the mother, the river where Ra and the Kings of Egypt travel between their celestial realm and their creations on this planet. She floods the Nile to give life to my people and bursts water from the womb to signal an imminent birth.” He rolled toward me, pressing his hard chest against my side as he absently ran a hand over my belly. “Do you know the tale of Osiris?”
“No,” I whispered. It was the truth. Though I could know it in a matter of moments with a single request to the bio-tat, I preferred hearing it from him.
The sound of a cleared throat and clomping boots interrupted the cocoon we’d built, signaling the end of our hour and time for me to return to Sanchi before Analeigh hit the panic button. Our wrist comms didn’t work while we were in the past, but I suspected mine would be full of frantic, angry texts upon my return.
Caesarion and I both struggled to a sitting position and looked up to find the mean, bald guard glaring down at us, his hand on the hilt of his cruel-looking dagger.
“It is time we retired for the night, my Pharaoh. The sihr will go.” He spat into the sand, the wad of saliva landing a little too close to me.
“Give me a moment to say my farewell, Thoth, and then I will return to camp. I presume you and Ammon have procured lodgings?”
“Yes. The innkeeper will hold your secret as long as the gold flows.” Thoth sounded disgusted, and even though he clearly wanted to kill me, I was glad Caesarion had someone who looked after him well, whether the loyalty was born of duty or something more intimate.
The two men stared at each other until Thoth finally backed down and left.
Caesarion pulled me to my feet and wrapped me in another hug, his fingers digging into my back. “Is this good-bye, my Kaia?”
“Didn’t you just lecture me that it should be?”
His arms tightened. “I wanted you to understand that what this boy is doing and what you have done are no different. If it is wrong for him to interfere, it is wrong for you. But no. I do not wish this to be good-bye.”
My throat burned and I clung him, using his solidity to hold myself together a little longer. I didn’t know if or when I could come back, or how many days remained before he returned to Alexandria and certain death. All I knew was that if he had more time, I would find more time.
It wasn’t too late.
“I’ll come back, Caesarion. At least once more while you’re still here.”
“Am I going somewhere?” He pulled back to peer into my face, searching for answers or for the comfort he perceived rested in knowing the future.
“Yes. You’ll return to Alexandria at Octavian’s request.”
His lips pursed as he seemed to consider why he would acquiesce to such an obviously unwise request, but then straightened his shoulders. “It is my time to die, and Octavian’s time to rule. The gods have willed it, and why should a mortal run from the beautiful life that awaits me on the other side of death?”
The words started my waterworks all over again. Tears fell onto my cheeks and slid past my lips. His understanding was ancient, yet oh-so-accurate even given my extensive knowledge of the world that had passed Before. Some people impacted the world by living; others changed the fate of history by dying. No one escaped those simple truths, and whether by the hand of the gods or by simple chance, my True fell into the latter category.
It was wrong to believe he didn’t matter because he had to die.
I had known. In my heart, I had known when he’d risked his life to save that boy from the crocodile, that I could not rip Caesarion from his country, from his people. From his path. If I could have convinced him to run away, he would not be the man I had fallen in love with.
Caesarion put gentle hands on my cheeks, drawing me onto my toes until his warm mouth pressed against mine, his tongue flicking over my bottom lip to catch my stray tears. “You will not be with me in that world, though, and I find that truth rends my heart.”
My own heart wrenched in two, as though in sympathy for its twin. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It was selfish of me to come here. You were happier before you met me.”
“It hurts me further to think you could believe such horrible thoughts. Whether or not I agree with your decision to come does not matter. I would not exchange these days with you.” Caesarion rubbed a smooth thumb across my mouth. “And one day, you will join me in the afterlife, and we will be together. I know it.”
I had never put much stock in what people had believed for so many years about the destination of our consciousness after death. There were still some in Genesis that clung to the idea of unknown realms that could never be discovered or understood by our minds alone, and in that moment, I wanted more than anything to believe.
“How do you know?”
“Return once more, Kaia. I’ll tell you of Osiris and Isis, and you will know, too.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sanchi, Amalgam of Genesis–50 NE (New Era)
“Where have you been?”
The sight of Oz waiting for me outside the decontamination chamber nearly knocked me flat on my ass. It definitely shoved me out of my Caesarion-scented dreamland.
I glared at him in an attempt to cover up my guilty face. “None of your business.”
He stepped in front of me when I tried to shove past, then pushed me back into the air lock, slamming the heel of his hand against the button to close the doors. It meant we were stuck in here another five minutes, minimum.
“Kaia. I know you were in Egypt, the days before Caesarion died. And I know you were alone.” Before I could move he reached out and yanked me toward him, running rough fingers up my arm until he felt Jonah’s cuff. “Where did you get that?”
“Illicit Cuffs for Apprentices. Same place you got yours, I guess. Did they give you the deep shit discount, too?” He let me go, and I stepped back, glaring for real now at being manhandled. “How do you know where I’ve been? Were you following me?”
“You mean like you’ve been following me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw you in England. You need to work on blending in.”
Son of a biscuit eater.
“Thanks for the advice,” I snapped.
“L’avenir est dans le passé.” He murmured the phrase, foreign to me, his smoky-gray eyes a mixture of fear and desperate hope.
I’d never heard the phrase before, and after all these years of Academy indoctrination there couldn’t be a Historian mantra that escaped even my sometimes sporadic attention. My brain stem tat quickly filtered the French into English, and a frown snuck onto my lips. “The future lies in the past? What the hell is that, some kind of riddle? Why are you acting so crazy?”
Disappointment crowded the other emotions from his face, and in that moment, he appeared to be the lost, scared little boy I’d met when we all arrived at the Academy seven years ago. Then it fled, making room for his anger, and I shrank back against the far wall as he took a step toward me. He seemed bigger, all of a sudden, filling up the space and making me acutely aware of the fact that I had nowhere to run.
A tray slid out, waiting to collect clothing and blood samples, but neither of us had anything to discard. I reached out and let it prick my finger, and Oz did the same.
“What’s ‘the future lies in the past?’ Why did you say that?”
“Never mind. Forget it. Why were you in Egypt? Did you go to see him?”
“I’m not talking about this with you,” I deadpanned, crossing my arms over my chest to thwart the chill from the room. At least, I told myself it was the chill from the room and not from Oz, whose cold demeanor sent panic signals zapping from my brain to my limbs.
“Caesarion.” He clenched his fingers into fists and shook them loose, over and over again, but his tone softened. “Do you seriously think you’re the first Historian tempted to observe their True Companion?”
“So what if I did want to see him? What are you going to do about it?”
“Kaia. If you knew what … If I could tell you the things I knew about your brother …” Oz dragged a hand through his too-long black hair, making pieces of it stand up in odd places. Frustration oozed from his pores, and every word that fell from his mouth confused me more.
“Oz.” I stepped toward him, swallowing the lingering fear and reaching for his hand. Remembering I knew him, that he wouldn’t hurt me.
He jerked away when I touched him, his stormy eyes wide in surprise. “Don’t.”
“What is going on with you?”
“What’s going on with me? You’re the one taking unauthorized, unsupervised travels with a stolen cuff to see a boy you were never supposed to meet.”
“How could we never be supposed to meet if we’re meant for each other? What sense does that make?” I didn’t mean to yell, or to start crying, but that didn’t stop both from happening.
Most boys fumbled when girls cried in their presence, or at least tried to offer awkward comfort, but Oz only stared. The unreadable expression on his face betrayed nothing of his feelings. “It doesn’t have to make sense. You’re abusing your Historian privileges and you know it.”
His accusation, so similar to Caesarion’s, hit me like a slap in the face. It made me cry harder because it was true. And he didn’t even know the whole of my transgressions. That not only had I traveled alone to observe Caesarion, but had talked to him. Held him, kissed him, told him the truth about us. About me. Whether or not the Elders had let us all down by hiding something, I had let everyone down, too. Yet, even now, barely able to breathe from under the guilt, I couldn’t regret it.
Wouldn’t.
“It’s not like you’ve been Mister walk the line, Oz. You’ve been traveling alone, too. We both have our secrets, and yours are worse.”
“I’d rethink that if I were you.”
“You know why I’m traveling. I’ll even tell you where I got the cuff—I didn’t steal it, I found it in Jonah’s room. He left it.” Oz’s lack of emotional reaction clenched my own fists in response, and swept confusion into my tangled web of thoughts. He wasn’t scared of anything I knew, and that scared me. “Why are you traveling?”
When he didn’t respond, I pushed harder, hoping he would confide in me. “I know you’ve been tracing the development of guns, starting in ancient China.”
The air in the room changed, electrified, and my fear from a moment ago returned. It slammed into me, wet my palms with a slick, cold sweat, but I didn’t move. It grew so thick that it couldn’t only be mine—there was too much.
“Stop. Checking. Up. On. Me.” Oz enunciated each word through clenched teeth, fury and something else, something almost like the terror slicing through me, clouded his gaze behind his thick, black spectacles.
“Or what?” I whispered.
“Or I will report what I know about your actions to Zeke and the other Elders. You will face a sanction more serious than you’re prepared for, and that’s if you’re lucky.” He stepped toward me, his hand reaching out and circling my wrist, clamping down so hard I bit my lip to stop from crying out. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Kaia.”
The dread in my mouth tasted horrible. “Tell me.”
He ignored my pleading, more pronounced aloud than it had been in my mind. “You can’t break these rules. They’re in place for a reason, and it’s to ensure that this society we’ve worked so hard to form stays intact.”
The phrase stays intact brought Caesarion’s kind face to my mind and calm swished through me. It also reminded me of the tactics and maneuverings that colored the ancient world, and I recognized that Oz and I were in a negotiation of sorts—and that he did not hold the only hand.
“What makes you so high and mighty? You stand there and tell me that I’m such a terrible apprentice for not following the rules, but you’re doing the exact same thing!”
“I have permission and you know it.” He smirked, a mean expression hardening his gaze. This wasn’t Oz. Oz was shy and quiet and awkward and yeah, sometimes haughty, but mean? He never had been. “You know, I’ve been warned by my father not to fall for your supposed advances.”
Mortification heated my blood, but denying it was dumb. “I let them believe what they wanted.”
“So your real secret would not be found out.”
“You know my real secret, Oz, and you’ve always loved reminding all of us how much better and smarter you are. Yet you’re here threatening me instead of telling your father what you know. Why?”
“Because we’ve known each other most of our lives. I consider you a friend. Our history counts for something to me even if it doesn’t to you. And I’m warning you—I’m begging you—you’ve got to stop.” He dropped my wrist, staring a little at the red welts he’d left behind as though someone else had made them, blood draining from his face. “I’m trying to help you.”
The decontamination doors released at that moment, the hiss of the air lock popping my eardrums. I shoved past him and into the hallway, struggling to breathe. My entire body shook from head to toe, as though there hadn’t been enough oxygen in the pod. My wrist burned from his tight grip and I gulped air, determined not to cry in the halls. Determined not to run away from him.
The escape brought my anger back on a swift and powerful wave of indignation. “Newsflash. I didn’t ask for your help, Oz, and I don’t want it. You say we’re friends and that means something but you can’t even tell me what’s going on. So you know what? Turn me in or don’t, but don’t act like you’re being a friend of any sort.”
I didn’t wait for a reply, stomping off toward my dorm. The shakes wouldn’t be left behind as easily as Oz, though, and our confrontation added to my fear and confusion over everything that had happened these past several days.
The Elders were lying. Oz had a secret, and it had changed him. Just now, the first boy I’d kissed, who’d said exactly two words the entire first year at the Academy, had hurt me. Threatened me.
He was wrong about one thing—those seven years counted for something for me, too. It meant that, even without realizing it, I heard what he hadn’t said.
Oz was scared.
And if a guy whose father sat as an Elder, who had traveled alone with supposed permission and altered the past as though he knew the outcomes had a reason to be afraid, I had to assume I did, too.
*
I found Analeigh in our room, thanking the stars she was alone. I didn’t think I could stand to see Sarah’s face right now, not after my confrontation with her True moments ago.
My best friend leaped up from her bed, fear and worry drawing her features together in a pinch. “Kaia! I’ve been texting. Where have you been? What happened to you?”
I crashed into her, wrapping my arms around her back and letting loose the sobs that had been building since the good-bye with Caesarion on the beach.
“Whoa. It’s okay. The Elders let you go; it must not be too serious.” She sank onto her blue comforter and took me with her, smoothing my hair like my mother would have.
My uncharacteristic display of emotion probably freaked her out, but I was pretty freaked out, too. Everything had turned into such a mess in the blink of an eye. When my sobs finally subsided into hiccups I sat up, wiping my sore eyes and feeling dumb.
“Sorry. It’s been a crazy day.”
“Start with what happened when the Elders pulled you out of Reflection, and tell me everything.” Analeigh pinned me with her toughest gaze, the concern in her eyes pushing my guilt to new levels. “Everything, Kaia.”
The secrets were too many to keep now. They reached too far, impacted too many other people. They churned inside me until they threatened to hurl out in actual vomit instead of words. The Elders, and Oz, and my brother, had been keeping everyone’s eyes closed to some greater truth, but we were all Historians and we deserved to know.
“Okay. First of all, the Elders pulled me out of Reflection because I accessed a trail of files related to weapons development. They thought Jonah had asked me to help him figure out how to make new ones. Truman assumed I’d been snooping into the files Oz has been reflecting on the past couple of days to, like, stalk him or something.”
She sucked in a breath. “It doesn’t surprise me that militant whack job keeps close tabs on Oz’s bio data, but I had no idea certain search parameters were alarmed.”
“Neither did I. They said any file related to the primary reasons for the fall of society on Earth Before are flagged. Weapons, segregation, overpopulation, organized religion, class distinction.” I rattled off the big five, then remembered the strange tone of Minnie’s reflection, and relayed that, too.
“Exile? That’s what it said? Not evacuation or relocation?” Her manicured eyebrows drew together and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Strange. Like they thought they could fix it. Return.”
“I thought so, too.” I paused. “And Oz hasn’t just been researching the development of weapons. He’s been going out on observations alone, and he changed a trajectory during at least one of them. I know because I saw him, and followed up in the Archives.”
“You saw him? You followed him to the past?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. “But he can’t … we can’t do that. Change things.”
“I think we both know we can. We’ve just been told that we shouldn’t.”
Analeigh’s skin turned green and sweaty. She leaned back against the wall, breathing deep. “We have to turn him in.”
“They know he’s traveling. At least, Truman does. We need to find out if the Elders know he’s altering things before we can decide what to do.”
I didn’t mention we also couldn’t do anything because then I would be caught, too. That I was just as bad as Oz—maybe worse, because I believed he had known the consequences of his interference.
“How did you get out of the interrogation? Why did you tell them you were reading those things and following Oz’s research?”
My face flamed at the memory, then got even hotter remembering that Oz knew what had been said. “Well, since Truman assumed I have some kind of stupid crush on Oz, it seemed like the best idea at the time to let him believe it. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
She snorted, the kind that made the corners of my mouth twitch against my best efforts, and the tension that threatened to strangle us both eased the tiniest fraction.
“Shut up, Analeigh. It’s not funny.”
“It’s hilarious. You and Oz Truman? Can you even imagine such a thing? You’d be bored out of your mind in less than an hour, and he’d go stark raving mad from having to corral you twenty-four seven.”
“Exactly. Hilarious.” The observations hit a little too close to home, given the exchange between us in the decontamination chamber. As though those five minutes had been a microcosm of our imaginary relationship.
It didn’t make a lot of sense, now that I thought about it, that Elder Truman would think for a moment that his son and I could have been a good match. Then again, he assumed I had a wayward crush, not that anything more substantial or two-sided was going on.
And it wasn’t. At least, not in the way he assumed.
