HIS NAME IS ALANE

1563 4D

The next day, Marande met with Andrew for a quick meal at Zooture Self, huddling over brews and tubers. They ate quickly, with ravenous appetites, Andrew wondering why she had called him. As he ate, he looked at her face; it carried the sharpened lines of growth and maturity, but her hair still tumbled lush and dark.

Marande put a hand over his. “I wanted you to know one thing,” she said. “I was hard on you when I found out about the aliens. You lost a lot of family, and this might be a little comfort to you. There’s nothing I want you to do about it, so just listen.”

“You’ve heard news of my children?” Andrew leaned forward eagerly.

“Nothing so good, no.” She hesitated a moment. “Well, actually, sort of, yes.”

He put his other hand over hers. His heart raced. “Tell me.”

“I’ve got a son from you.”

“What!?”

“I was married when we were on the Abridor training tour, just as you were. It happened after I came to you in the train on the way back.”

“How do you… Are you sure?”

Marande looked off over Andrew‘s shoulder. “His name is Alane. He looks so much like you. But my husband and I love him and he’s my husband’s son, in every other way. It’s just that once in a while I look at him now — he’s fully grown and married — and I remember you, and how wild we all were.

“I just wanted to let you know that you’ve got one more thing you haven’t lost completely.” Her eyes were moist.

Andrew sat still, his hands covering hers. “Thank you. I won’t intrude in your lives, but maybe some day I’ll see him. It’s enough for me to know you cared this much.” He wanted to say, I’ll always love you, but saying it went too far.

Her eyes told him she already knew.

When they finished their drinks, they stood and shared a long, deep kiss. Marande turned one way, and Andrew turned another, and the flow of their lives divided once again.