To my vast relief, she does stop. Devin turns and gives me a scrutinizing glance. “I’m trying to give her Christmas. It’s a holiday.”
“A holiday,” I echo blankly. “A day of celebration?”
Devin nods. Her creature tries to scurry off her arm and she neatly captures it, slinging it into her grip and then holding it like a baby, belly-up. To my surprise, the creature calms, and she scratches its bare pink stomach as she talks to me. “Yes. I know there’s no official calendar here because no one lived here before us, and we don’t really know or celebrate Homeworld holidays. But if there’s snow, itcouldbe Christmas. And I thought having something to celebrate—something to look forward to—might make Liesje smile.” She continues to pet her creature as she gazes up at me, the cold wind whipping her dark hair about her face. “So can I have the tree or not?”
“I will need to make a formal request—”
“No one lives on that farm,” she replies. “I checked already. I went there first. That’s why I’m asking you now.”
“And what would you do with the tree?”
“Bring it inside, decorate it, and probably stuff a few presents under it.”
I do not see why the tree has to die for this. “You cannot do this outside? Preserve nature?” She shakes her head. “Very well. Show me this tree and I will help you.”
She smiles brilliantly, and her face lights up. In a moment like this, she’s startlingly attractive. It makes me do a double take, and I stare at her for a long, long moment. I’ve never seen a human that lights up like a comet when she smiles, and yet Devin is radiant in this moment.
Radiant…for a human. I’m not a fan of humans. At least, not kissing them. Not that I want to kiss Devin and her smiling mouth, no matter how pretty it is. Devin is pushy and annoying and likes rodents far too much.
I wouldn’t want to kiss her anyhow.
ChapterTwo
DEVIN
I’m not sure how I roped Custodian Sinath into helping me. I’m even more unsure as to why he’s doing it. Every time he gazes in my direction, he looks briefly dumbfounded, and then scowls, as if he’s discovering new reasons to dislike me.
Or Jerry. Maybe it’s Jerry.
But my sweet “ring-tailed rodent” is the best thing that’s happened to me since arriving. Better than my farm. Better than the friends I’ve made. When I saw the holes dug around the edges of my barn, I panicked, thinking snakes. I’d made a call to the custodians and Sinath had shown up, immediately set a trap to pull out the culprit, and instead of a snake, I got a fat-cheeked, bug-eyed rodent that made the most adorable squeaks when picked up.
It wasn’t until Sinath grabbed his round, squirrel-like head with a glove that I realized what he was about to do. I’d intervened, rescuing “Jerry” and carrying him inside despite Sinath’s warnings about disease and cable-chewing. The local vets (a hugely cranky old woman and her fearsome assistant) checked him out and vaccinated him for me, and within a week Jerry turned from a hissing, angry creature into the biggest cuddlebug ever. He wants to be on my shoulder at all times. He’s smart and loving and sleeps curled up against my neck, and he’s just what I needed to mend my aching heart.
Risda is a lovely place, but it’s still terribly lonely. Humans are social creatures, and it’s like we’ve been put in our own separate little cages and left to our own devices. Some people thrive in that sort of situation. Some people like me find an animal to cuddle and baby to make some of the loneliness go away.
Some people like Liesje cave in on themselves and end up depressed.
I didn’t even know who Liesje was until my air-sled broke down. My farm is a fair distance away from Port, so there was no way I could walk there to get it fixed. I’d comm’ed the Port office only to be put into some sort of message system, and I gave up and hiked over to my neighbor’s farm, only to find her bots going wild, her fields only half-worked, and a fine layer of dust on her air-sled. I’d knocked on the door, worried, and it took three rounds before Liesje answered.
Poor, sweet Liesje. She’s an older woman, maybe a bit older than my mother was when I last saw her. Her gray hair was unkempt and her clothing dirty and rumpled, and the lights were off inside her house. I introduced myself and Liesje let me borrow her sled. Borrowing the sled turned into me showing up the next day with lunch as a thank you, and then me checking in on her regularly, trying to manage her farm and mine at the same time.
“Liesje’s caught up in terrible depression,” I tell the custodian as I drive my air-sled back toward Liesje’s farm. “I recognize it, but I don’t know how to get her out of it. I’ve been trying things for months now, but I’m running out of ideas. I thought maybe a holiday could bring a bit of a change to her days. Give her something to look forward to.”
He’s quiet, and when I glance over at him, his expression tells me that he thinks I’m exaggerating. “If this colonist is struggling with her mental health, the Port doctor will be happy to prescribe something—”
“She doesn’t go in to Port,” I tell him. “She doesn’t leave her house. Ever. Half the time I’m not even sure if she feeds herself.”
“If she requires assistance, all she has to do is ask. It is a custodian’s responsibility—”
“Did you miss the part where I said she’s depressed?” I shoot him a glare. “Her getting out of bed is a momentous occasion. She’s not gonna pick up the phone and call an alien and tell him she’s fucking sad. Not when aliens are the ones that caused this in the first place.”
He flinches at that and shuts up. I keep driving for a time before he speaks again. Then, “Was it mesakkah who kidnapped her from Earth?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” he says in a quiet voice. “I am proud of my people and my heritage, but I do not like the actions that some take. It’s hard to win trust when others have abused it so badly.”
Maybe he’s not so bad after all. Maybe I have the wrong impression of him. Maybe—