“That does seem like a very good deal,” I admit. “But you know in five years time, I will be expected to report back to Earth and share my reports with EET.”
“You will not be doing that,” Gruff says firmly. “You will never see another human being again. I can promise you that. They will not be allowed to make orbit here. They will be repelled with force.”
“Why wasn’t I repelled with force?”
“You were an unexpected arrival. But news of your presence has spread to the capital. I can assure you, no further human landings will be tolerated. You were fortunate to have made landing at all.”
“Lucky me, not being blown out of the sky by a missile, you mean?”
“Yes, very lucky. You are an incredibly fortunate creature, Jem, whether you realize it or not. Since your arrival, and I would wager, long before it, you have courted disaster on all sides and somehow remained unscathed.”
He’s right, I guess. Terrible things could have happened to me. Terrible things probably should have happened to me. But that’s how the universe works, I guess. We’re all always in unspeakable danger in one way or another, but most of the time things work out, until they don’t.
I lie in Gruff’s strong arms, and I look up into his handsome face and I wonder what I have done to deserve such an incredible mate.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick of me? Like, how much of a pain I am?”
Gruff chuckles. “I keep goats. By choice. I like trouble.”
“I guess that’s true,” I grin. “Hey. How is Strumpet doing?”
* * *
Strumpet is doing round. Her belly has expanded quite a bit and she waddles when she walks. I’ve been so busy causing trouble I’ve not noticed all the subtle and not so-subtle changes she has been undergoing of late.
“We should separate her from the buck soon,” Gruff explains. “She’s getting closer now, and the bucks can confuse birth signs with being in heat.”
“Wow,” I say. “Come on, Strumpet. Time to get comfy.”
I don’t know if I’m talking to her as much as I am talking to myself. It is time to accept a little domestic bliss so I can finally let myself be happy.
EPILOGUE
Strumpet has been in the straw covered barn for almost a week. Billy sleeps up in the hayloft, and he’s had to share it with the pair of us. Gruff has pointed out her pawing at the ground and said she was probably going to have her kids soon. The long day and the extended second night have threatened to draw me into sleep, but I refuse. I won’t miss this. I will be there for Strumpet no matter what.
I made myself a little bed of straw to sleep in her stall. A thick linen sheet almost stops the prickly bits from the bales beneath from poking me through, and a low light keeps her in my view. She is resting for the most part, but sometimes she will grunt for a bit, get up, paw the ground, and lay down again. I wake every time she moves, afraid I’ll miss something important.
Strumpet has her own opinions about my role in her labor, however. She picks the absolute dead of night, when I am fast asleep, to begin having her kids. At some point she makes a little sound, just loud enough to wake me up. When I look over, she’s lying down and doing some very weird things with her body. She’s either breakdancing or having babies.
“Gruff!” I run inside to wake him up. “Gruff! It’s happening!”
He rouses from a deep sleep and makes a grunting sound. “Coming,” he says, not actually moving. I have to trust he’ll come, because I am not staying here trying to drag him out of bed.
I run back out. I’m so excited, and more than a little scared. This feels like everything coming full circle, destiny in motion. Strumpet’s journey to find a buck is what set all these events in motion, and what found me the love of my life. Now she’s going to have babies. Two babies, I remember Gruff saying, probably.
She’s being remarkably relaxed considering what is happening to her and through her. While lying on her side, she appears to lurch like a seal. These are contractions. This is the moment of truth, the culmination of her disobedience and efforts at finding a mate.
Gruff finally makes it out to the barn. He has some old towels with him, just in time for two feet and a tiny nose to make an appearance from Strumpet’s back end. A tiny goat is about to dive into life. Strumpet pushes as if her entire existence has been building to this specific point in time. A head appears and then the rest of a little goat slides free in a splash of goo.
Gruff hands me a towel. “Wipe his nose,” he says. “She’ll likely have one or two more, and making sure they can breathe is a good step toward keeping them alive.”
I crouch next to Strumpet, who is already working on the second baby Gruff predicted. I marvel at this little speck of life already shaking its head. It has a little white toupee at the top, a dark body with little white spots across it.
“Mehhh!” it cries as I wipe the thin membrane away from its face. That cry makes tears come to my eyes. There’s just something so precious about this moment.
“Move him to the front,” Gruff says.
I do as he tells me, and immediately, Strumpet starts licking her baby all over, cleaning away all the bits and pieces that don’t belong to it specifically.