Believing in Blue Page 9

  “No! No, of course not.” Apparently even her free-spirited brother drew the line somewhere in terms of her breaking the rules.

  As important as her brother Kriss was to her, she had something to do instead of spending time with him till darkness fell. She would be leaving as soon as she’d taken care of things with her grandfather. She went into her bedroom and stuffed something from a drawer into the knapsack she’d brought with her, which already held a few treasures she’d brought for Piru from Earth.

  It took all her strength to say good-bye to Kriss, and she knew that parting with Piru wouldn’t be easy, either. She had to keep reminding herself that she’d be back in about two days and would see everyone again soon. And there was also the fact that someone she had grown to care about was waiting on the other side of the portal she’d just come through.

  She reached the top of the hill that her grandfather’s house sat upon soon after taking off from her house and landed at the bottom of the small house’s steps. It almost blended right in with the sun-filled sky, painted that particular hue because it was Piru’s favorite shade of blue.

  Before she could knock, the front door opened, and her bespectacled, barely five-foot-tall grandfather stood there before her, wearing a bright-green, flowing caftan and a welcoming grin. “Ah, Sia, just in time. My pancakes are done, and I just squeezed the last orange for our juice. I know you’ve been gone for only a short while, but you still take your coffee black, correct?”

  “Seems like much longer than a ‘short while,’ Piru. It’s really good to see you.” Sia leaned down and gave him her customary cheek-kiss hello, her grandfather squeezing her shoulders when she bent down to his level.

  “I guess it does seem that way, my dear granddaughter. I should have guessed, knowing you as well as I do.”

  Piru knew Sia somewhat better than the rest of her family, due to his special sight, a fact that sometimes made Sia uncomfortable. Especially right now, because she didn’t want him finding out about her growing feelings for Wren. Nor did she want him to know about her growing doubt about whether she could actually teach her student how to fly.

  His hands were still on her shoulders when he said, “I’m sure you’ll have stopped worrying about that by the time you head home, Sia. Now please come inside, as I’m guessing you’re pretty hungry.”

  “Your psychic powers tell you that?” Sia asked him as she followed him into his sunlit living room.

  “Nope, just your growling stomach.”

  Sia laughed. “Must’ve been the bread my brother had just baked when I got to my house.”

  “He does make some pretty darn good bread,” Piru said. “Now, why don’t you follow me into the breakfast nook, and we can dig into the food and relax. I know you need it, after all your hard work on Earth with Wren.”

  Sia went into the kitchen with her grandfather, where the small, bright-yellow table in the sunlit nook was covered with food: a fruit salad, a large pile of pancakes, a pitcher of orange juice, and a carafe of that wonderful invention “coffee,” for which Sia would be forever grateful to the Earthlings. There was also the Winged Blue’s head gardener of a hundred years ago to be thankful for; it was he who had planted and tended the many rows of coffee plants in their large gardens, just so that future Winged Blue could enjoy it in their home world.

  Sia poured her first cup, took a sip, and sighed. No one in all of Azyr made better coffee than her grandfather, and she hadn’t had any on Earth to rival it, either. She did know he made some sort of secret addition to it, something spicy that added a little kick, but this was a secret he had never told her. It didn’t seem fair, him keeping anything from her, when all of her life was laid bare the second he touched her skin.

  “I hope you don’t mind my learning about your time on Earth,” Piru said as he pulled back the chair across from Sia. “You know how hard it is for me to shut off my ability, at least with people I’m so familiar with, such as yourself.”

  “No, no, it’s fine, I guess. I’ll just have to tell you to keep out of my head if I ever manage to finally get a girlfriend.”

  “I was late to the dating game as well, Sia, but boy, it sure was worth it. Your grandmother Nikka was such a catch. I know you’ll meet someone of her quality soon. I’ve seen it,” he added with a wink, then quickly added, “but not who it will be. No clue there, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, that’s great. Thanks for that huge, mysterious teaser, Grandpa.”

  “I suppose sometimes I should just keep what I’ve learned to myself, huh?” Her grandfather’s grin was lopsided and perhaps a bit sheepish. As it should have been. He held out the plate of warm pancakes, which Sia took to be a peace offering of sorts.

  She speared the largest one with her fork and put it on her plate, covering it with fruit salad. “Maybe you should. But just so you know, it’s still good to see you. Very good.”

  “It’s nice of you to say so out loud, Sia dear.”

  They both dug into the food, which was delicious as usual, and Sia was able to relax almost fully for the first time in a while. All that was required of her in that moment was allowing herself to enjoy the comfortable silence with Piru and the soothing view of his pond from the breakfast nook’s large window. The pond was always kept clean enough to swim in, and Sia made use of that fact as often as she could in the summer. This particular year, she wouldn’t have much time for such laziness, so she planned to take advantage of the brief lull before the storm hit Azyr, the one Piru had warned Torien and Passea about all those years ago.

  “I…this is a lot of weight on my shoulders, you know,” Sia said once she’d cleaned her plate and drunk her coffee and juice.

  “I do, of course, I do.” Piru placed his hand atop Sia’s. “But, my dear girl, I know you’re up for it. And further, I have strong feelings that you will be successful in teaching young Wren to fly.”

  She’d tried to keep her mind blank once his hand was touching hers, but like usual, it was hopeless. It was like trying not to think of a pink raven—completely impossible.

  Piru pushed back his chair and smoothed the folds of his caftan. “Why don’t we retire to the living room? I noticed that you brought your knapsack, and I’m curious to see what’s inside it.”

  “A few surprises for you, and a treat for me,” she told him, and she took out her gifts once they were back in the living room.

  “National Geographic and potato chips? You do know how to spoil your grandfather, don’t you?” Piru took a moment to flip through the magazine, then placed the gifts on the couch’s side table. “So, Sia, I know we just ate, but why don’t I get some sparkling water from the fridge, and then you can use my bathroom to change into your swimsuit…if you brought it,” he quickly added, but it was already obvious that he knew she had. He probably even knew which one it was, Sia thought.

  All annoyance at her grandfather’s aggravating abilities faded away as soon as her bare foot first dipped into the shallows of his pond. It always felt better than she remembered as she edged her way into its cool, welcoming waters, which her grandfather sometimes joked had healing properties. They did manage to heal Sia’s worries on that afternoon, at least for the hour or so she spent swimming and then relaxing on a towel at the pond’s edge. It was the first true respite she’d felt since she’d been told of what lay in the Winged Blue’s future and what lay in hers.

  Once she was done swimming for the day, she knew it was time to return to reality and to get ready to try, one last time, to teach Wren. Maybe that Earthling saying about “third time’s the charm” was wrong, and it was really the fourth time when everything finally clicked into place.

  Based on what Piru had told her, this would likely be the case, and so it was with renewed faith that she flew up to the Winged Blue’s portal and prepared herself for what lay ahead that night: her final chance to get Wren into the sky and her last night on Earth, whether she could teach her…or not.

  Chapter Thirteen

 
Wren gazed out the window of the bus as it sped toward Mary’s lower-income neighborhood. Her aunt’s house was too far away for Wren to walk, or at least it was too far after her long night of flight attempts…and failures. At least she wouldn’t have to tell Mary about that. She still didn’t know how she’d manage to keep the parts from Mary that would make Wren sound crazy, while still filling her in on her imminent departure and her dad having reentered her life. Mary was eccentric, for sure, but there was eccentric and then there was insane; her aunt was definitely not the latter. Nor did Wren want her to think that her favorite niece was, either.

  Wren had been sure that Mary told all her nieces they were her favorite, but when, at the age of fifteen, she had finally worked up the nerve to ask, Mary had taken her hand and told Wren in a very serious voice, “I don’t know who convinced you of your lack of value, young lady, but you are very, very special, and you should never, ever forget that.”

  Being around Mary was one of the few instances when Wren still felt special. Although now that she’d come clean to Sia, and had felt the reassurance in her hug, she had realized that maybe it wasn’t just her aunt who was capable of thinking Wren mattered.

  Mary’s appreciation of Wren, and her joy at seeing her “favorite” niece, were clear as the bright-yellow sun when she answered the knock at her apartment’s front door. Her blond curls were pulled back into a frizzy, full-bodied ponytail, and her orange velour track suit was partially covered by an apron that said a certain swear word starting with the letter “F” followed by the words “The Cook.”

  “Wren, darling! Come in, come in! It is wonderful to see you…it’s been far too long.” She enveloped Wren in a tight hug against her ample chest, the accompanying cloud of her favored strawberry perfume comforting, as usual, despite its overpowering, saccharine smell. “Now, we have cucumber and aioli sandwiches, vichyssoise with potatoes and caramelized onions from my deck, and Bundt cake for dessert. I hope you’ve brought your appetite, Wren, because there is a lot of food. Now, come to the kitchen with me, and we’ll dine in style while you tell me your shocking news. I mean, really, Torien? Back in your life after all these years?”

  Wren wasn’t ready to talk about her dad just yet, so she evaded Mary’s questions with the words, “I’m sure it’s really good food, Mary, like always.” She followed her aunt into her neon-orange kitchen, which today smelled strongly of the pink roses that sat in numerous large vases scattered around the small room. She sat at the faux-marble counter across from the small sink, two-burner range, and the puce-colored fridge with a slightly dented freezer door. The kitchen was in no way as fancy as Wren’s stepdad’s, but the company and conversation here more than made up for it. “Your cooking is always great,” Wren said.

  “Well, your mother and I learned from the same woman, after all. That Tina Mae, she sure was a whiz in the kitchen. And a wild woman outside of it, just like your auntie!”

  “Yeah, I still remember that story you told me about her streaking in college.”

  “Yes, imagine that, in her era! She was a huge feminist, too, as you know, something I’m afraid skipped your mother, although hopefully not you, sweetheart! Have you gotten around to reading that book I loaned you, The Feminine Mystique?”

  “Not…not yet. You did only get it to me a week ago, and I’ve been kind of busy, so I’m really sorry. I’ll read it soon, I promise.” If I can even manage to take it with me, Wren thought to herself. Which reminded her of why she’d come. She took a cucumber sandwich and bit into it, mulling over how to tell her aunt while she chewed.

  The bite of sandwich was delicious, of course, not that her aunt’s food was ever anything less than amazing. Wren tasted basil and saw some fresh green slivers of it sticking out of the sandwich. The aioli was obviously homemade, as Mary had taught Wren how to make it herself only a few months back. And the thin layer of goat cheese added the perfect final touch of richness to offset everything else. She wouldn’t have thought it was a good idea to add the aioli along with the goat cheese, but her aunt had made the right choice.

  “This is wonderful, Mary.”

  “Thank you! Coming from a primo cook like yourself, it means a lot.”

  “Oh, Mary, I’m not that good,” Wren told her, as she started to feel flushed at the sudden compliment. “I still make major missteps when I’m cooking.”

  Mary took a seat to Wren’s right, shaking her head as she reached for a sandwich half. “All young cooks make them, no matter how good they are. I did tell you about my rock-salt-coated lamb, didn’t I?”

  Wren chuckled. “Mmm, yeah, and I’m surprised you didn’t die of dehydration when your father insisted that you finish it up.”

  “Well, Wren, we weren’t exactly rich, growing up. I don’t think that’s what attracted my sister to your stepdad, you know, but I can appreciate, from living a life of barely scraping by from birth to this day, that money does offer some comfort that even the most loving arms cannot.”

  “I guess.” Wren scooped up a spoonful of the cold, creamy soup, making sure to savor its subtly complex taste before she swallowed. “I mean, I remember when she and I were poor, after Dad disappeared, and it wasn’t easy on her. That’s why, at least partially why, it was such a relief when she met Tim.”

  “I know you’ve had a lot of trouble with Tim over the years, but I still don’t quite understand why. He doesn’t seem like that bad a person, despite what you’ve told me about him.”

  “Um, yeah, you’re probably right.” Wren had told her aunt very little about the indignities she’d had to suffer from her stepdad, and now didn’t seem like the best time to tell her the rest, no matter how much she wanted to. It also wasn’t the best time to tell her about her wings, or Sia, or Shyon, or all that her future might hold. Wren didn’t want to add more to her aunt’s worries once she’d told Mary about her planned departure, especially if those worries included wondering if Wren had lost every last one of her marbles.

  But she could tell her loving aunt at least some of it, and Mary deserved to know that much. “You already know that my dad has gotten back in touch with me, right? Well,” she said before her aunt had a chance to answer her, “he sent me a letter a few days ago, and he invited me to come stay with him. Mom will be driving me there, and so you might not see either of us for a while. A long while.” Possibly never again. Wren couldn’t tell Mary that, though, not with the immeasurable number of lives that depended on her traveling to Shyon, because then her aunt might try to stop her from leaving.

  “Wow, Wren. I mean…are you sure, after all your dad put both of you through? And this is all okay with your mom, after how your dad broke your…I mean, I’m proud of Denise, for being able to face that jerk after all this time. I hope she gives him a good what-for and maybe a swift slap, too!”

  Wren surprised herself by saying, “I almost want to give him one, too, but I also really, really want to hug him.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t appropriate. You know how I’m always running off at the mouth, saying things I shouldn’t. Your father actually was a dear man, and I’m sure he has some sort of valid excuse for why he left. Or at least I hope he does.”

  “Oh, yeah, he sure does.” Wren shut up the moment after she spoke, afraid all the rest of the unbelievable story would follow if she didn’t lock her lips tight and throw away the key.

  “What is this very valid excuse he’s given you then, dear?” Mary asked, idly stirring her soup while she stared at Wren.

  “It’s…he…I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  Mary tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You can’t, or you won’t?” Then her face relaxed, and she reached forward, tapping Wren on the arm with her spoon. “I guess it doesn’t matter which. You’ve always been a particularly smart girl, so I’m sure you have a good reason for keeping his good reason from me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, of course I do.” Wren basked in her aunt�
��s compliment for a few moments, enjoying the feel of someone thinking of her as “smart.” She did want to tell Mary, tell her everything, but at least there was one thing she could tell her without risking almost anything. That is, as long as her aunt responded the way she wanted her to. “I have something else to tell you, too.”

  “What is it, Wren? My, it’s nothing but shocking secrets today!”

  “I’m hoping that this one won’t shock you, actually…I’m hoping it will be fine with you, too, because I’m pretty sure it will, but…”

  “But what, Wren? Go on, spit it out. It can’t be very bad, knowing you as I do.”

  “I’m…I’m gay.”

  “And the sky is blue, and I’m eccentric.”

  Wren’s mouth fell open. Mary knew? “It’s that obvious? Really?”

  “Oh, only to other gay people, dear.”

  Her aunt was gay, too? It couldn’t…it couldn’t possibly be true. But then, Wren realized, there was the fact that her aunt hadn’t dated anyone since her divorce ten years ago. At least not anyone Wren had been made aware of. And then other things began to click into place, things that Wren had read about in her boss Shawn’s magazines. “You mean that you—”

  “Yes, Wren, welcome to the club. We’re glad to have you, and I hope you’re glad to have us…to have me.” Her aunt sighed and squeezed Wren’s hand. “Now you know why you haven’t met any of my romantic interests since my ex-husband was firmly ejected from my life. I’ve only dated two women since him, both of them from out of town. This is not a good town to be gay in, so I’m glad you’re going somewhere else. I hope you can stay there, because this was not a great place to put down roots, let me tell you!”

  “You thought I would judge you, even when you believed I was a lesbian, too?”