Matronly Duties (5 page)

“Do you like to read?” Howard asks.

“Yes, very much so.”

As I look at all the different titles on the first set of shelves, I notice how old at lot of the books appear.

“Are these very old?” I ask.

“Yeah, they are. Most of them were my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather’s. He and his family chose to sacrifice some of their clothing when they came here so they could bring books.”

“Wow, that is amazing. I don’t ever remember hearing about my ancestors from my parents.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Dad talks about ours all the time. All the stories have been passed down through the generations. In fact, somewhere in here are family photo albums from before the impact.”

He turns to look for them and makes this cute “aha” sound when he locates them. My stomach does a somersault.

Sitting on the sofa, he beckons me to sit beside him. I sit down, careful not to get too close, but I can’t see the book so I move closer. A zing of energy courses through me when my thigh touches his. I debate moving away, but Howard rests half the book on my lap, keeping me where I am.

With care, he flips through the pages.

“This is my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather,” he says, pointing to a picture of a man, a woman, and two kids. What captures my interest the most, though, is what is in the background—blue sky, green grass, and the sun. I’ve seen the pictures in history books, showing what the surface looked like before the asteroid. Seeing it like this, though, in family photos, makes it so much more real.

“Wow.”

Howard looks at me with one of those smiles that lights up his whole face before he turns the page. “This is them on holiday. That big rock in the background was called Uluru.”

Everyone looks so happy in the image, as if they don’t have a care in the world. I wish that was the life I was born into, instead of this solitary existence of duty.

I turn away to hide the tears that threaten to fall. I miss my family. I haven’t seen them since Christmas, and it has been at least a couple of months since I’ve spoken to them on the phone.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say, feeling utterly foolish at my sappy display.

“No, you’re not.”

He lifts his hand towards my face. I sit stock still, waiting to see what he plans on doing. Though looking a little hesitant, he continues until his hand is cupping my cheek, wiping away the tears. The caring nature of his action only reminds me how alone I am and makes me cry all the harder.

“It’s okay,” he says as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a comforting half-hug.

I savour the reassuring weight of his arm and try to rein in my emotions. The warmth from his body adds to the comfort and settles deep inside. We sit there for what seems like hours while we look at the photos. It feels natural to be close to Howard, almost intimate—a concept that was foreign to me only yesterday.

All too soon, we hear Rhonda call out that lunch is ready. It is only when his warmth is no longer radiating through my body that I remember this man and I are little more than strangers. As he calls me Ms Greene and offers me his hand, I am also reminded that, even if I may feel something for Howard, I am not free to pursue it.

When we arrive in the kitchen, the remaining James children appear. I gratefully take the seat Howard has pulled out for me. He then takes the seat beside me.

I eat in silence until Rhonda asks me what I thought of the reading room.

“It is very nice,” I respond. “I could easily spend days in there curled up on the couch with a book.”

“I showed her a family photo album and made her cry,” Howard adds rather matter-of-fact.

His mum is perplexed. “You made her cry?”

Before Howard can respond, I interrupt. “No,
he
didn’t make me cry. I had a tear in my eye, but it wasn’t Howard’s fault.”

“Why were you crying?” Claire, the six-year-old, sounds concerned.

I hesitate, having no words to explain how alone and isolated my life of privilege has been. “It was nothing really.”

Claire, in her innocence, replies, “Mum says if you’re sad, you should talk about it.”

“You’re right, Claire. It was just seeing the happy people in the photos made me realise how much I miss my family and how I wish I had memories like those.”

I swipe away the tears that well up again. I have no idea why I am so emotional all of a sudden, but I do not like it. Howard places a comforting hand on my knee.

“Why don’t you see your family?” Howard’s almost thirteen-year-old sister, Jean, asks.

I’m not sure how to explain, but I do my best. “When I completed my FMAT, and it was determined I would be completing my schooling at the institute, I had to leave my home and move to MITI. We are only allowed to see our families three times a year—at Christmas, on our birthdays, and on Dedication Day.”

“But why?” she asks, sounding horrified.

I once would have said that’s how it has to be, but now I’m not so sure.

“I think it is part of their way of preparing us to be Matron. Maybe so we are not too distracted from our studies. It is a very lonely existence.” I mumble at the end, not sure if any one hears me.

“I am glad I don’t have to worry about that,” Jean says.

I look at her, my brow furrowed. “Why don’t you have to worry about it?”

“Well . . .” Jean looks to her mum as if confirming it is okay to talk. When Rhonda nods she continues. “Seeing as, according to the government, I don’t officially exist, I won’t have to take the test.”

Now I’m even more perplexed. “Why don’t you exist?”

Rhonda takes over and answers, “Only babies born at the hospitals are registered on official birth records. All my children, except for Howard, were birthed at home. Meaning the government doesn’t know they exist.”

“You gave birth at home?” I ask, flabbergasted.

“Yes. Giving birth is completely natural. Your body pretty much knows what to do all by itself.”

“But . . .” My mouth opens and closes. “But what about the doctors? Did they come to your home?”

“Nope,” Rhonda says, sounding very proud of the fact. “It was just me, Anthony, and a friend who had experience with homebirths.”

I am at a complete loss, never having heard such a thing before. I have always been made to believe that if a baby wasn’t born at a hospital, it would die.

Obviously sensing my confusion and disbelief, Rhonda continues. “It’s not as horrific as it sounds. It was a common method of giving birth during the ancestors’ time. I have a book on it if you ever want to read it.”

“Thank you,” I respond. “I’m pretty sure children aren’t in my future, but I am curious nonetheless.”

I am expecting someone to ask why I won’t be having children, as it is a common societal preconception that all women will have their two allowed children. Nobody says anything, however, and conversation turns to the family’s plans for the afternoon.

Claire, Brad, Jean, and Tim talk about their chores. It seems Monday afternoon is for laundry and cleaning bedrooms. The entire time they are chatting, Howard doesn’t say a word, he just sits quietly and finishes his lunch. When he is finished, he helps his mum with the dishes, then checks on what his brothers and sisters are doing. It intrigues me how much he seems to care about his siblings in an almost parental way. When he’s done, he returns to the seat next to me.

“Would you like to come for a walk with me?”

“Um . . .”

“I promise I don’t have any nefarious plans. I just . . . want to show you something.”

I should say no. Going for a walk, who knows where, with Howard is a bad idea. As much as I’m attracted to him and want to spend more time with him, nothing good can come from getting in deeper than I already am. Curiosity gets the better of me, though.

“I’d love to.”

A giant grin lights up his whole face. My heart races in my chest, and I’m almost certain if someone were to look closely, they’d see it thumping against my skin.

Chapter 5

When we leave the Jameses’ compound, we head away from the city. We walk for about fifteen minutes, and as I begin to recognise the landmarks, I realise our destination is the catacombs. The memory of yesterday’s events stops me dead in my tracks.

“Are you all right?” Howard asks, concern etched on his face.

“I don’t think I can go back in there,” I say in a pitifully weak voice.

“It will be okay. I promise I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” He tugs my hand, trying to move me. When I refuse, he says, “It’s safe, I promise.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I’ve lived my whole life here.”

The calm tone of his voice and the smile on his face should be reassuring, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I go inside something bad will happen.

“But . . .”

He grabs my hand and pulls me forward until we’re barely a hair’s breadth apart. “Bethanie, I can take care of you. I’ve taken care of you so far, haven’t I?”

I nod but still don’t move. “I can’t.”

“Please,” he says, squeezing my hand as I try to move away. “You will be safe. On my honour, I swear.”

This near to him, I can feel the heat of his body. I want to close the gap between us and sink into his warmth. I look into his eyes and feel the tension drain from my body. Something in his expression tells me I can trust him, that he really won’t let anyone hurt me. He smiles and gives my hand another tug, and this time I follow.

Entering the catacombs brings back memories of the previous day’s terror. A shudder works its way down my spine. Howard pulls me close and puts an arm around my shoulders, guiding me safely through the passages.

We are in the catacombs for a little while before we walk through an exit on the bedrock side, opposite the city. I am shocked to see a tunnel system open up before us.

“What is this?”

“They’re natural caverns in the earth’s crust. Not many people left know they are here.”

The fact that no one knows where we are, and that they’re not aware these tunnels exist, makes me pause.

“How do you know about them?” I ask, my curiosity warring with my fear.

“I stumbled upon them by accident. I have always loved coming to the catacombs when I need a bit of peace and quiet. When I discovered this entrance, I couldn’t help but explore.”

I can understand that. Up until now, I had never really thought about what existed outside the edges of the city. To know there is more is extremely exciting.

Howard grabs a torch from the backpack he brought with us. Then he pulls out some clothes.

“What are they for?”

“It’s going to get quite cold the further we venture along. These are hemp knit jumpers and scarves. They’ll keep you warm.” His eyes light up as he tosses one of the jumpers my way.

Sliding it on, it doesn’t take long to realise he’s given me one of his jumpers. The sleeves are long, and it looks like a dress the way it falls above my knees.

He grabs my right hand and folds the sleeve up. “Sorry, Mum doesn’t have any of this type of clothing.”

Once my right hand is visible out the end of the sleeve, he grabs my left and does the same thing. The urge to sniff the jumper hits me out of nowhere. The aroma is that of soap powder and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

“There you go. Hands free.” He grabs a scarf and wraps it around my neck, finishing up with a kiss to the cheek. “Snug as a bug.”

My cheeks heat, the warmth spreading all the way down my chest.

He takes my hand and leads me through the tunnel entrance with a lightness in his step I’ve not seen before.

I immediately recall the conversation I had with Rhonda earlier and can’t help but wonder if this is the sensation she was talking about. I chastise myself for being so silly. It can’t possibly be what she was talking about, because Howard and I are not in love. We barely even know one another.

Casting my silly thoughts aside, I concentrate on our surroundings. It takes a little while for my eyes to adjust to the minimal lighting, but when they do, the sight that greets me is amazing. With just the small amount of light from the torch, it looks like a million tiny rainbows are bouncing off the walls.

“This is beautiful,” I say, my eyes darting around to take it all in.

“This isn’t even the best bit,” he replies.

We turn a corner, and the tunnel widens in front of us, directly into a cavern the size of a city block. The walls are bare rock and, in the distance, I can hear a trickle of water. As in the tunnels, rainbows bounce off the walls wherever Howard shines the torch.

I gasp. The beauty of it literally leaves me breathless.

“You okay?”

“Yes, it’s just so beautiful.” I take the torch from Howard and shine it around. The rainbow of colours is stunning.

“Come, have a seat,” Howard says. I turn and at my feet is a blanket.

I sit, still trying to take in everything around me. Although the light seems to barely penetrate the darkness, there is still much to see.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? The crystal spread throughout the rock is mesmerising.” I nod because it truly is a remarkable sight. “It took me two years to explore it all.”

I turn my head to the left to look at him. “Really. Why so long?”

“Well, I don’t get to come here as often as I would like with all my other responsibilities. So I only come about once a month, sometimes less, and it is much larger than you’d expect.”

“I can see that it looks like it goes on forever. What did the other girls you’ve brought here think of it?”

“I haven’t brought anyone else here, let alone a girl.”

I blanch at his admission. “Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I was more thinking what makes me so special?”

“There are a few things that come to mind. I can list them if you’d like.”

I slap him on the arm. “Don’t be silly.”

He returns my slap with a playful shoulder bump. When he laughs I can’t help but join in. He pulls me in closer, his arms wrapped around me to keep me warm.

We sit in silence, admiring the beauty surrounding us. I am expecting it to feel awkward, but it doesn’t. Eventually, Howard’s voice breaks into the quiet.

“I’m sorry ’bout your family.”

“Why?” It isn’t his fault I don’t get to see them.

“Well, it’s just . . . I wouldn’t have shown you that photo album if I’d known you didn’t have any happy memories, or you didn’t see your family.” His tone is apologetic, but he didn’t do anything wrong.

“It’s true, I do miss my parents, and I’m excited when I get to see them. But I accepted only seeing them a couple of times a year a long time ago. That’s part of the responsibility of becoming Matron, it’s how it is for those at MITI . . . how it’s always been. I guess it was a case of not knowing there was any other way. But when I saw those photos . . .” I trail off, lacking the words to explain the range of emotions I felt earlier.

“You realise it’s not normally like that, right?”

“I do now, but there’s no point wishing for my life to be different, because it isn’t.”

“Do you want to be Matron?”

I am taken aback at his question. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before, but it is my duty and honour to be Matron. I am looking forward to serving my nation.”

“Is that how you really feel? Because that sounds like a line you’ve been fed.”

I think about it for a second. “I don’t know,” I reply, frightened about the fact that I don’t have an answer. “Training to be Matron has been an isolated existence. I can’t imagine it will be any different when I’m actually Matron, but it is my duty and it’s not like I can do anything to change it.”

“Is that why you don’t want to have children?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to have children,” I clarify.

“Your comment earlier, though, suggested you wouldn’t.”

I hesitate, not sure how much I want to share with someone who was a complete stranger to me less than a day ago. His beautiful blue eyes, however, crumble my resistance.

“It’s pretty much an age thing. I am twenty-five now and by the time my five-year term as Matron is over, I will be thirty. The chances of me finding a donor and conceiving at that age is small. So I don’t hold out too much hope of having children.”

“Bethanie, I know the doctors say that for optimal results it’s best to have children in your twenties, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have them in your thirties. Mum had Claire, Tim, and the twins all while she was in her thirties. Claire was born when Mum was almost forty.”

“Forty?” I’m unable to stop myself from interrupting.

“Yes, forty.”

“I can’t imagine that.”

“Well, I can. And I think any man you choose to procreate with will be very lucky.”

An image of that man being Howard flits into my thoughts, and my ears suddenly feel like they are on fire.

Howard looks away and coughs, a tinge of pink staining his cheeks.

His words brightened the little spark of hope I hold deep inside. Maybe children
could
be in my future.

“Thank you,” I say. “I believe the women you end up having children with will be very lucky as well.”

“Woman,” Howard says, his gaze lingering on mine.

My eyebrows scrunch up. “Sorry?”

“
Woman
, not women. I only intend to have children with one woman.”

“Oh.” I shouldn’t be shocked by his declaration, but I am. It reminds me that he and I come from very different backgrounds.

Howard frowns and looks away again. He seems tense, and his fingers are curled into fists at his side. It feels as if something has been left unsaid, though I have no idea what. I reach out and place my hand over his where it rests on the ground. His fingers unfurl, and he turns his hand over so the palm is facing up, entwining my hand with his. He stares at our joined hands for a few minutes, then looks up at me.

I’m mesmerised by the deep, soulful pools of his blue eyes. My breath picks up and I lean a little closer. He pulls me nearer until I’m almost sitting on top of him. The expression on his face is one of hunger. His gaze seems intent on my lips, and my mind flashes back to the last time he looked at me like this—right before he kissed me. His confidence tells me he has kissed a woman before.

Is that all he’s done?

All thoughts flee my mind when his lips collide with mine. I let myself get lost in the warmth and pleasure of his passion-filled kiss until I’m gasping for breath.

Even when I pull away, I don’t go too far. The idea of being separated from him leaves me with an odd sense of abandonment. But without his lips against mine, thoughts of how many women he’s done this with return.

“Have you been with a woman before?”

Howard gawks at me, his eyes wide.

I can’t believe I blurted that out. “Oh my gosh, please forget I said that.”

“It’s all right.” He swallows heavily and looks down. “Yes,” he replies almost too quietly to hear.

“How many?” I’m too curious for my own good.

He slides backwards and rests his head on his knees. He takes a couple of deep breaths. “A few.”

“But I thought you believed in love?” I ask, not understanding how he could be with a woman if he believed in the one-true-love concept his mother told me about.

“I do,” he replies. “But I’m still a man, and sometimes the company of a pretty woman is what you want. I’ve never taken advantage of a woman, though. They were always willing.”

A strange tightness settles in my chest, and I realise I don’t want to know the ins and outs of any previous relationships he’s had. I could swear I feel angry, even.
There were women before me.

Howard grabs my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I shake my head trying to clear my mind. “I’m fine. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Your private life is none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Howard reaches out and cups my cheek, turning my head so our gazes meet. “Bethanie, you can ask me anything. I want to get to know you, and I want you to know me. The real me.” He pauses, brows scrunched together like he is concentrating very hard. “I like you.”

My heart skips a beat and I smile. “I like you, too.”

He presses a brief kiss to my lips before he rests his forehead against mine. The thumb of the hand still on my cheek traces circles. When he draws back, I follow. I don’t want this to be over yet.

“Soon,” he says, pulling away. “I didn’t bring you here so we could make out. I just wanted somewhere so we could talk alone.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing, everything. I don’t know. You intrigue me. I find myself inexplicably drawn to you.”

“I think I feel the same.”