Behind her, she heard a treble creak coupled with a snippet of synthesized music and laughter from the tavern, followed quickly by the thud-thud-thud of footsteps racing down the walkway after her.
She broke into a run.
Forgetting that she wore her dress boots, Rena threw her feet out in front of her as if she were shod with her flat-soled sandals. Her heel caught in a knothole; she considered slipping her foot out of her boot but decided against it, knowing that the footful of slivers she’d end up with would make it impossible to walk home.
Jacob slowed his gait, though with his long legs, he covered the distance to Rena far more quickly than she was comfortable with. He raised his hands out in front of him as if he suspected she might come at him with one of the ultra-fine-point writing styluses she kept in her bag. “I have your wrap. You left it on the chair,” he explained breathlessly. He bent from the waist to rest his hands on his thighs in a stretch. Taking a few deep breaths, he righted himself and took a step closer to Rena, cautiously holding the shawl out where she could reach it.
Rena snatched it away from him, throwing it carelessly around her shoulders. “Thank you for looking out for me. Please leave me alone.”
He shook his head. “I want to be your friend, Rena.”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Damn that he could make her feel so much! Rena knotted the ends of her shawl, scrambled to her feet, and marched down the dock.
“I’m sorry about Kail!” he shouted after her.
She stopped, spun on her heel. “You? Sorry? You saw him in there, his boorish, bigoted behavior. Yes, that was the man I once loved. The person I was prepared to spend my life with. By comparison, you come out looking like the fine gentleman steward. You can bask in your superiority with my blessing.”
“I’m sorry because I know how much it meant to you to honor your promise to Topa.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t seem to finish anything. First I lose the sketchbook with his memorial drawings in it in that blasted storm—I haven’t been able to re-create my last design and everything I’ve come up with since is all wrong. Now I’ve rejected the man he wanted me to marry. I’m a colossal failure.”
“Rena,” he said gently. “You aren’t a failure.” Stepping close to her, he reached for a loose tendril of hair that had wrested free of her headband, twisted it around his finger, then with a tender half-smile, smoothed it back out of her eyes. For a long moment, they stood staring at each other.
This time, she had no excuses to explain away his hypnotic effect on her: she craved it, tilting back her head and lifting her face to receive Jacob’s kiss.
Another earsplitting creak announced more exits from the tavern; unidentifiable silhouettes stumbled out of the door, laughing raucously. The trio teetered toward them.
They lurched apart.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jacob said, reaching for her hand.
She pulled away. If Halar saw her with Jacob. If Parsh returned. Prophets forbid, if Kail came back…“I shouldn’t be with you. Not like this.”
“Why not?”
“I need space to think. I can’t—I won’t feel how I’ve felt the last few days again….” Her voice trailed off.
Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll walk you home. That’s all. Nothing more. Marja wouldn’t want you by yourself at this hour.”
She shifted her shoulders, dislodging his hands and considered him. “Fine. Let’s go.”
They kept a swift pace to preserve their privacy. When Rena was certain they were out of earshot from anyone in front or behind them, she blurted out what had been nagging at her since the day on the boat. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the son of the Emissary?”
Jacob paused, took a deep breath. “Have you ever been asked to bless a broom?” he said earnestly.
A blurt of laughter escaped that she promptly smothered with her hand. “Can’t say that I have.” Not what I expected as an opener.
“The day I left my dad’s homestead, I followed a series of back roads meandering through the nearby farms on my way to the River Way. A farmer on his way to market in Sepawa asked me if I wanted a ride in his hovercart. He gave me his name. I gave him mine. My full name. That’s when he asked if I could bless his broom.”
“But you don’t have any special connection with the Prophets.” She paused. “Or do you?”
“In this case, the saying ‘like Father, like son’ definitely doesn’t apply. But tell that to the farmer. Apparently his wife was having difficulty keeping dust out of the house so he thought that a word from me might help her broom work better.”
“I see,” she said, snickering. “I’m sorry, it’s just that—”
“I know it’s ridiculous. I’d have laughed too if the guy hadn’t been so serious. Then when we reached the Shalun’s Hollow Ferry crossing, he told the proprietor about the great honor he would have transporting the Emissary’s son across the river, so of course that turned into another big scene.” Jacob shook his head, remembering. “My friend Nog would ask what good it is having a name if you’re not willing to trade on it. But that’s not my style. It took days to put the whole ‘son of the Emissary’ thing behind me, and that was only by omitting the name ‘Sisko’ from my introductions, and using the long form of my first name.” As they strolled down the pathway, he related various experiences from growing up as the Emissary’s son, his narrative continuing even after they’d passed through the Harbor Ring gate. His words evoked sympathy from Rena.
While Rena couldn’t relate to having a relative with the Emissary’s notoriety, she did know how it felt to live in the shadow of a notable family. In Mylea, hardly a day passed without Rena being identified with or judged in relation to her grandfather or her heroic parents. “She might have Jiram’s color, but otherwise, is she not the image of Lariah?” or “Topa was dependable. Always knew you could count on him, but that Rena is always wandering off….”
Rena had considered the possibility that perhaps her lifelong compulsion to wander stemmed from an unconscious need to be known as herself, not “daughter of” or “granddaughter of.” And now, as she listened to Jacob, she heard her thoughts and feelings being verbalized by another: the simultaneous pride in family accomplishments and honor, and doubt about whether living up to the standard set by those who had gone before was even possible. She sensed she’d found a kindred soul in Jacob. Before long, they walked shoulder-to-shoulder, the tension between them dissipating into the rising Mylean mists rolling in off the sea.
Inside the gate, they walked beside the weatherbeaten Temple Ring rampart for more than a hundred meters, from pool to pool of puddled, pale lamplight. The occasional skimmer filled with fishermen off to their predawn preparations zinged past. Within hours, the darkened storefront windows would be lively with color and light as the first catches of the day were poured into tanks or cleaned, filleted or chopped into steaks. A little light-headed from the ale, she noticed that the air was lightly scented with the perfume from the late-blooming trees that lined the street. Lovers strolled up and down the street, arms linked or hand in hand. Last year, before she had left for the university, the sight made her feel part of an exclusive club of those who had been lucky enough to find a special someone. Tonight, thinking about love made her feel like a boat cut loose from its moorings.
Turning off before they passed the harbormaster’s station, Rena and Jacob walked up brick-paved Moonshell Road, snaking back and forth across the hill past shops and houses.
“What went wrong tonight, with Kail, I mean? You were so determined to make it work.”