Alone in the Wild(86)

“In retrospect, it probably was. Fortunately, it seems I’ll be paying you instead.”

“I will take your goods minus the price of a gun, which you will get me before spring or pay me double its value in additional goods.”

That’s fair, but I pretend to consider it before agreeing.

“The baby’s mother is from the First Settlement,” she says. “She is—was—a companion of mine. We’d meet up with a couple of the Second settlers around our age. My grandfather doesn’t know this, and I would appreciate you not telling him.”

“I won’t. I’m sure he’s seen it with others, though. You’re two small communities with a limited number of people your own age. Down south, that’d been like the kids from neighboring small-town schools hanging out together.” I smile. “It widens the dating pool.”

She frowns, and I’m about to explain when she figures it out, deciphering unfamiliar words from the context.

“You mean our choices for marriage prospects,” she says.

“Or just romantic relationships.”

A wave of one hand, dismissing the concept. I suppose, to them, dating would be similar to wooing a hundred years ago. There’s always an end goal, and that goal is finding a marriage partner.

“I sought out their young settlers for an exchange of ideas,” she says. “I see advantage in that where my grandfather does not. We hunted together. We camped together. We grew close.”

“You became friends.”

A twist of her lips. This is a girl who sees friendship—like romance—as a frivolity for those who can afford to be frivolous, and she cannot.

“You became allies,” I say, and she nods, clearly more comfortable with that. “But your friend—your companion—found more. She found a marriage partner.”

Felicity’s face darkens. “That was not supposed to happen. Intermarriage between the communities is forbidden.”

I chuckle. “When it comes to romance, nothing tastes as sweet as the forbidden fruit. People have written a thousand stories about it.”

“Romeo and Juliet,” she says, her lip curling. I must look surprised because she gives me just the faintest hint of an eye roll. “We are not savages. The first generation brought their stories, and my grandfather brought books. We all know Romeo and Juliet. A ridiculous tale of two foolish dolts.”

I have to smile at that. “They were very young.”

“I heard the story when I was younger than the characters, and my reaction was no different. Romeo is madly in love with some other girl, sees Juliet, and falls madly in love with her. The boy wanted to be madly in love, nothing more.”

“I’m not disagreeing.”

“Even Sidra said Romeo and Juliet were dolts. And then what does she do? Falls madly in love with a boy from the Second Settlement and runs away with him.” Felicity harrumphs. “They might as well have committed suicide. For all I know, she died in childbirth, with no one to help her.” Felicity’s face stays dark, scowling, but I see the fear in her eyes. Fear and worry and hurt.

“The baby has been well fed,” I say. “She’d need her mother alive for that.”

She nods, the relief seeping out. Then she snaps, “Then Sidra was lucky. But what about next time? Is she going to continue breeding with him? Without any help? I could have—” Her teeth shut with a click, and she retreats into a deeper scowl. “Dolts.”

“You didn’t know she was pregnant,” I say softly.

“How could I? She left the summer before last, and I warned her that if she went, I wouldn’t…” Felicity swallows and doesn’t finish.

“You said you wouldn’t help her, but you didn’t really mean that. She took you seriously and stayed away.”

“I was angry. I begged her to stay. Not to give him up. I knew better than to ask that. But if she’d given me time, I could have brought Grandfather around to the idea. She didn’t even give me time to ask him. She staged her own death, like Juliet. Can you believe that? They both did, the fools. They left bloodied clothing, and I was supposed to grieve as if she’d died.” Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t. That would feel like a lie. So I pretended I didn’t believe she’d died, and everyone thinks I just can’t handle the truth.”

“She put you in a very awkward position.”

“Yes, she did. Grandfather listens to me, but she didn’t trust me. She thought if she asked, they’d marry her off to Angus. I’ve known her since we were babies, and she is … She was very important to me, and I was not so important to…”

A deep breath as she blinks back tears and straightens. “She chose him. She met him, and she chose him, and she forgot me.”

It’s an old story. Diana accused me of shunning her when I fell for Dalton. Of course, that ignores the fact that she dumped me with every new boyfriend since we were in high school together. Also, the entire reason I’m in Rockton is because she and her ex conspired to convince me I’d been found out for Blaine’s murder.

This has, I suspect, been the complaint of friends since time immemorial. A romantic partner shouldn’t replace a best friend, but they are competition for that role. In circumstances like mine, your lover is also your friend, yet it’s not like simply adding a new friend to the mix, because you want plenty of alone time with this one. That leaves your best friends to the timeworn wail of “you’re always with them,” devolving into the desperate battle cries of “bros before hos” and “chicks before dicks.”