Brightly Burning(77)

“I’m done, Stella.” Arden pushed her tab across the table to me. School was canceled for the duration of quarantine, but I did mini-lessons for her and a few other cleared children at mealtimes. I reviewed her writing assignment between bites, getting the distinct feeling I was being watched. I looked up to find her eyes big and glued to me.

“Are you going to get married?”

Her question was like a shock of cold water. I hadn’t told anyone about Hugo. That I had been, if briefly, engaged.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because you’re eighteen now. Isn’t that what happens?”

“Not for everyone.”

“Oh.” She seemed disappointed.

“Arden?” I pried, gesturing for her to elaborate.

“It’s just, if you were looking to get married, I thought you might marry my dad. So we could be family.”

My heart ached. She reminded me so much of Jessa.

“I’m sure your dad is still grieving for your mom, right?” She nodded. “We can be like family, just without the marriage part, if that’s okay.”

Arden nodded vigorously. “I’m so glad you came back. I missed you.”

I smiled, but it was bittersweet. Jessa had wanted to be my family too. And I’d walked out on her. I shoved cake into my mouth and chewed with purpose, a distraction so I wouldn’t cry.

“Maybe you could marry him.” She pointed behind me, and I turned to look. It was Jon, looking freshly showered and finely dressed. To my horror, I felt my heart speed up just a bit. But I didn’t have any real feelings for him. He just looked kind of good. Damp blond hair curled around his ears, and he grinned when he saw me, bounding over.

“Hey! Happy birthday. I hope you saved me a piece of cake.”

I pushed a spare slice over to my right as he took the seat beside me. To my chagrin, he smelled good, like fresh-cut oats.

“You showered.” I stated the obvious.

“Yep. Skipped my water rations yesterday so I could shower tonight.”

“Special occasion?”

He stared at me expectantly.

“My birthday?” I felt my whole body flush. This was so not what I needed. Jon was unabashed.

“I’ll eat quickly so we can get to your surprise.”

True to his word, ten minutes later, he left me struggling to keep up with him as he ran ahead, up two flights of stairs and aft. The double doors whooshed open to reveal the observation deck in all its glory: wall-to-wall windows in a room it took two minutes to walk the length of, even at a brisk pace. And it was empty.

“There’s no one else here,” I stated the obvious.

“I guess so,” he said, failing completely to feign surprise. At my look, he fessed up. “I, um, called in some favors.”

I made my way to the windows. They offered the best view of Earth and the rest of the ships trailing behind us. I couldn’t decide which view I preferred. The endless expanse of space I could view from my bedroom window aboard the Rochester, conversely terrifying and wonderful, a reminder of how small I was, and how infinite everything else. Or this, a tableau of life, circling, waiting for the opportunity to set foot on solid ground again. Ground that might be deadly white, the air cold enough to stop your heart. I squinted down at the surface below, looking for patterns that might inspire hope. Jon spotted them first.

“See there?” He pointed, off to the far left. The most promising bit, the one that had been driving his Earthbound campaign for years, was coming into view. There, the relentless white receded, revealing a small mass of browns, blues, and greens in the middle. “That’s where we think the Crusader went down. It holds the most promise for sustaining life.”

“Do we know which continent it is?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning down at the planet, a little too gleeful for my liking. He gazed down like it was his pet, and they were about to embark on a grand adventure together.

“We have no idea if Earth can support life,” I said. “If the ice age isn’t over, we’ll have no chance.”

“We have no chance up here,” he countered. “Eventually the life-support systems will fail beyond repair. Human beings have survived ice ages on Earth before.”

“Not many of them.”

“We’ve been up here for the worst of it. We’ll be fine. Anyway, I have more surprises.” He jogged off into a dark corner, leaving me confused, returning a moment later with a dark glass bottle and two glasses. “I got this from Jatinder and stashed it up here.” Jon poured a generous measure into each glass, handing one to me. My first instinct was to decline. I’d gotten stupid drunk on the stuff the night of the memorial. But it was my birthday, dammit.

“Happy birthday,” he said as we clinked glasses. Then the music started.

At first I thought I was imagining it, that I had gotten unceremoniously drunk faster than anticipated. Then I saw the tab in Jon’s hand, realizing he’d turned it on. It was light, something classical played on a piano. Romantic.

“Is this a date?” I asked, wary.

“No?”

“Jon.” My tone carried a warning.

“I thought about inviting George, but figured he would insist on bringing Joy, and that would be uncomfortable. It’s just you and me, and I was hoping . . . but it doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be.”