Becoming Calder

"Cavorting? You make it sound so tawdry." Hector often used that word. He said sinful actions were like cavorting with the devil.

"It would be wrong. Just meeting like this . . . it's as far as it can go."

I was silent for a good minute, mulling it over in my mind. Like the day before when I'd kissed him, all I wanted to do was leave, run. He knows how I feel about him. Is he just being nice here to avoid hurting my feelings? "Yes, I suppose you're right," I said, feeling defeated.

Calder turned toward me. "My point in being honest with you about my attraction to you is I think it's better if it's out on the table, so to speak. We need to tread carefully, here. I want to be your friend. But not to the detriment of our entire community and not to the detriment of our own hearts . . . and our own dreams."

Truly, my heart was already his for the breaking, and breaking it was, but I nodded my head anyway. I knew he had dreams for his own life. And he was risking those just by meeting me like he was, most definitely by teaching me things. If anything, it made my admiration for him stronger. How could I ask him for more?

We were both silent for another moment. Calder watched me in the dark. "The portrait was beautiful," I finally said. "Nothing squash-like about me at all." I had unrolled the paper the night before and my breath had caught in my throat at the absolute beauty of the picture. Did I really look like that? Hector had told me since I was a child I was beautiful and angelic. But something about the way Calder had drawn me made me look powerful and strong, the look on my face sure, confident, even serene as I gazed upward.

Calder laughed. "If only you were just a little more squash-like, this whole situation would be easier for me to bear."

I held back a grimace. If this was going to have any chance of working, he couldn't flirt with me.

He seemed to read my mind as his expression became serious, cleared his throat, and lay back down. "So, speaking of squash, our lesson today is going to be on the stars."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does squash have to do with the stars?"

"Oh, you've never heard of the constellation, Squasharius?"

I laughed and it felt good. "I swear, Calder Raynes, if you're teaching me all kinds of things I'm going to have to un-learn later, I won't be happy."

Calder laughed. "Okay, so maybe there's no Squasharius." He was quiet for a minute. "Did you know that when you're looking at stars, you're actually looking back in time?"

"How's that?" I whispered.

"Because the light from a star takes millions of years to reach the earth. So, for instance," he pointed upward again to one tiny, blinking star, "that's actually what that one looked like thousands of years ago."

Something about that seemed magical to me and I decided not to try to wrap my mind around the science of it. "It's like I can imagine the gods up there, somewhere behind all those stars, looking down on us right now." I paused. "Can I tell you a secret though?" I brought my voice down to a whisper.

"Anything."

"I only pray to one of them." I blushed, even though he couldn't see my face. Saying that out loud, despite the fact I read hours and hours of the Holy Book on all twelve deities every single day, felt blasphemous.

Calder turned toward me. "Which one?" he asked, surprise in his voice.

"The God of Mercy."

"Why him?" The tone of his voice was gentle.

I considered his question for a minute. "Because . . . I just figure there's not much that grace and mercy can't fix. And I guess I figure that he . . . he cares the most about what happens to us. Or maybe he's able to love us despite how much we mess up, how imperfect we are, and how much we want what we shouldn't want," I finished quietly.

We were both quiet for a few minutes.

"Then he has the hardest job."

I breathed out a small laugh. "Yes. I always imagine that when I get to Elysium, I'm going to find him first."

After a minute, Calder asked, "What would your own dreams be, Eden, I mean, if it wasn't your destiny to marry Hector?"

You. You're my dream.

"I don't know. To see the world, like you, I guess. To know what might be out there for me. If anything at all."

"Are you proud of being chosen?" he asked softly.

I thought about that for a minute. "There's no sense of satisfaction in something you didn't do anything to achieve," I answered.

Calder turned toward me. "But obviously the gods see something in you maybe you don't even see in yourself. You were chosen by them because you have a beautiful, brave heart."

I laughed softly. "No, it can't be that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's my heart that makes me want to deny my so-called destiny."

It's my heart that wants you to be my destiny.

Calder remained quiet, seeming to think about my answer.

"What's that one right there?" I asked, pointing at a bright star all by itself on the edge of the sky.

Calder turned back over onto his back and looked to where I was pointing. "I don't know."

"Maybe you can ask someone tomorrow."

"I won't be able to see it tomorrow to point it out." He smiled.

"Hmmm, I guess the stars teach us things, even from a thousand years ago."

"What do the stars teach us?"

I paused for a second. "That some things are seen more clearly in light . . . and some things are seen more clearly in darkness."

Calder turned his face toward mine seeming to study my face in the dim light. His expression seemed wistful. He didn't say anything, but after a moment, he grasped my hand in his, and we both turned back to look at the sky.

We talked about the stars, his beautiful, slightly gravelly voice filling the night air.

As I lay close to him, the warmth of his body next to mine, I listened to him talk. I felt content, something I hadn’t known before. I closed my eyes for just a second.

What seemed like a few moments later, someone shook me. "Hey." I heard Calder's voice and looked around, disoriented. The sweet smell of the fruit trees awakened my senses and my eyes slowly opened. "I have to get you back," Calder said. "We both fell asleep."

"No one even knows I left," I said sleepily.

"I'll be missed though," he said, standing up and reaching down to me.

I stood up and brushed myself off. I guess his family would know he hadn't come to bed since they only had two rooms.

We started walking and Calder grabbed my hand. We took the long way around the outer perimeter of the cabins, walking as quietly as possible, not speaking.

The bonfires were all just embers now, dying down, and most of the people had already gone inside.

I walked as slowly as possible, wishing I could stay out all night, just roaming around, doing as I pleased. With Calder. I sighed.

Calder looked over at me. "Meet me at the spring tomorrow?"

I nodded. It was lighter now as the electricity from the main lodge reached the path we were walking.

"Thank you for this," I said, glancing at him, feeling shy. "It's hard to explain what this meant to me, but thank you."

Calder looked over at me and smiled. "Maybe we'll do it again."

Hopefulness filled me and I nodded, smiling back at him and removing the cloak that had provided me anonymity and handed it back.

He left me at the place where the cabins ended, and the large courtyard between the workers' homes and the main lodge began. I looked back several times to see him standing where he'd left me as he watched me walk the rest of the way. His hands were in his pockets and as my steps separated us, he became nothing more than a shadow. As our distance grew, so did the loneliness in my heart. I missed him already.

**********

When I entered the lodge, someone grabbed my wrist and I cried out in surprise.

I looked up to see Clive Richter, my least favorite council member, a shifty-eyed man who used too much hair product. I thought it fit his personality—greasy all around. Why Hector considered him holy enough to be one of the leaders to his people, I didn't have a clue.

"You're not supposed to leave the lodge, are you? Especially at night."

My heart began racing and I swallowed. If Clive knew I was leaving the lodge for something Hector hadn't approved, it'd all be over. No more lessons. No more Calder. I cast my eyes down, trying to look as obedient as possible.

"I just wanted to see what the workers did at night," I lied. "I walked through their camp once. That's all. How can I lead people if I don't understand them? If they don't think I care about who they are?" My eyes remained down as I waited for him to respond.

"They're all a bunch of degenerates, you know. You're lucky you didn't get raped by a group of them."

"Degenerates?" I asked, my eyes rising to his.

"Yeah, degenerates. You hear their stories," he said, referring to the information Hector gave us about their lives when they joined our family in Temple.

"Yes, but they're here because they want to be washed clean," I said.

Clive snorted. "The point is, don't go walking around the camp again, Eden. I'll be looking in every night to make sure you're here. Don't do it again or I'll have to mention this to Hector."

I nodded, my head still downcast. When I finally looked up, I found his eyes raking over my body, a dark glint to them. He focused on my br**sts for so long I almost brought my arms up to cover them under his scrutiny, but I made myself stay still. A perfect princess.

"Hmm hmm," he said, finally raising his eyes to my face. He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from spitting at him.

"Such beauty," he hummed. "You're almost eighteen, aren't you, Eden?"

"No. I just turned seventeen."

"Hmm. I can only imagine Hector is impatient for the day you'll become his." He leaned closer so I could smell his stale breath. "You'll be a good wife, won't you, Eden? So lovely. So obedient."

"I'll hardly have time to be a good wife, will I? The floods will come and it will all be over."

Clive leaned back and smiled. "No, just beginning, my lovely. Just beginning." He laughed and caressed my cheek once more and then turned and walked away. I shuddered as I watched him retreat, not understanding what he had meant with his statement. I hurried to my room where I quickly undressed and got in bed.

My dreams were filled with Calder bathed in starlight.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Calder

It rained for the next couple days so I wasn't able to meet Eden at our spring. I actually wasn't able to get out at all. I supposed the gods had decided I needed a mini-vacation and were overseeing my work for me.

Instead, two long days after I'd lain with Eden under the stars, I stood in the doorway of our small, dim cabin and looked up toward what I knew to be Eden's room on the second floor. It was filled with light and I wondered what she was doing up there while I was down here. Was she lonely? Bored? I imagined she was. I imagined standing a ladder against that window, climbing up to her, and then taking her hand as we ran through the warm rain, the smell of apples scenting the air, her dress clinging to her, revealing her pink skin beneath. I groaned. This line of thought was not productive. I had told her we couldn't kiss, that we couldn't be more than friends. But half my mind and my body—certainly my body—didn't seem to agree with that plan. In fact, there seemed to be a full out mutiny to that plan as my thoughts constantly turned to Eden, setting my blood on fire. Several times I had given in to temptation, gone up into the hills and leaned back against a rock, and stroked myself until release flashed through my body, potent and intense. I knew it was sinful, but in the moments right before, it felt necessary, vital to my very survival. That water-cleansing ceremony had its work cut out for it where I was concerned.

"Quit pacing. You're like a caged animal," my mom nagged.

I snorted softly, recalling Xander using those same words a few days before when we'd spoken.

"This damn rain," I muttered, sticking my head out the door, covered by a small wooden overhang.

"You want something to do, I have a hundred cans that need filled with tomatoes," my mom said, looking over her shoulder where she stood at the table. Cans were lined up neatly in front of her as was a large pot of peeled, cooling tomatoes. She was helping stockpile food for the winter months. It didn't get very cold here in the desert, even in winter, but everything had a season and tomatoes only flourished through November.

I breathed out, and reluctantly went to help with the canning. After a few minutes, I said, "Cans aren't provided by nature."

"What?" My mom looked up.

"Hector always says we should use the instruments and materials the gods have naturally provided for us, that using the wicked tools of the big society only corrupts our purity."

My mom didn't acknowledge me for a few minutes, just kept spooning tomatoes into cans. After a bit she said, "We use as little as we can from the big society. Some things simply can't be fashioned from rock, dirt, and tree branches."

"Oh, I see. So when it's convenient, we use what the gods have provided. I didn't get the updated version of the Holy Book. Maybe that's in the new edition," I said sarcastically.

My mom looked up sharply. "Calder! You're being blasphemous." Her voice was a whisper as if someone was listening in—the gods themselves perhaps—although you couldn't hide from the gods.