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Authors: John Boyd
Tags: Science-Fiction
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baby.”
“If she was, all her companions were also,” he said. “But don’t worry about any romance between us. As soon as she gets the uranium she’s leaving earth.”
“A woman’s been known to change her mind.”
“You don’t seriously think we’d run off and get married?”
“That’s one way she could get her citizen’s papers, and she’s a lot older than you. Older women can twist a young man around their fingers. Then what would my grandchildren be, piebald?”
“So you don’t think your future daughter-in-law’s family is acceptable?”
“She may be foreign royalty for all I know. Sometimes she behaves, well, queenly, as someone who expects to be treated as a lady of distinction. Sometimes I catch myself on the verge of calling her ‘ma’am.’ ”
“Matty didn’t defer to her,” he pointed out. “Matty took to her like a lost puppy.”
“I noticed.” Mrs. Breedlove nodded. “Matty was very solicitous toward her, something Matty usually isn’t. Maybe she’ll make Matty her lady-in-waiting if she decides to reign on earth. She wouldn’t have to wave any scepter to get your daddy to throw himself prostrate at her feet.”
“Mother, you sound jealous.”
“Maybe I am, Son,” she admitted, turning her attention back to the newspaper, “or maybe I’m frightened.”
Back from the ride, Kyra stayed in the kitchen to observe the icing of the cake, and Matilda reported on their activity to her brother, upstairs, where he was packing for Seattle.
“She rides like Lady Godiva, Tom, or at least the stallion must have thought so. It nickered and champed so much I thought it was going to climb into its saddle with her.”
His sister left him to go down the hall to her room and pack for Kyra, but she returned at times to confer with him on some item of dress. She was sending Kyra to Seattle with a fully equipped wardrobe, minus bras. “She doesn’t really need them, Tom. Mama’s old-fashioned.”
Mother might be old-fashioned, he observed to himself, but she was perceptive. Matilda acted the role of lady-in-waiting to the hilt, packing her favorite dresses and costume jewelry and attempting to coordinate the colors with silvery blond hair. Breedlove did not object to his sister’s generosity; hopefully he would return the clothes within two weeks.
At dinner Kyra tactfully apportioned her attention between his father, mother, and sister, with occasional asides to keep the son from feeling neglected. As guest she guided the conversation, and he noticed that she did avoid discussing Kanab or space travel, but he felt uncertain about her motives for doing so. Her interest in things of the earth was lively and genuine. She seemed spontaneous and candid, and she could have been bored with marvels to them that were commonplaces to her. He would have found it dull to lecture on the internal-combustion engine to cavemen.
After dinner Breedlove posed her alone and with his family for her “before” pictures and for Matilda’s scrapbook. She was photogenic and posed naturally, but no camera could have captured her personal magnetism. He made a snapshot of her for his billfold to show any doubting official he might encounter that her hair was naturally green.
Matilda asked her brother to leave the kitchen while she dyed Kyra’s hair, because it made her nervous when people watched her work, and he joined his parents in the living room, where they listened to the evening news. It was difficult for him to be impressed by the day’s events when he was already involved in the greatest news story in human history. He was more interested in the occasional progress bulletins Matilda came to the doorway to announce: “She’s been given a shampoo, and I’m applying the dye.” “I’m putting her hair in rollers.” “She’s under the dryer.” “She’s ready for combing out.” “She’s ready.”
In the kitchen Kyra sat on a high stool, a plastic cape over her shoulders, and
“If she was, all her companions were also,” he said. “But don’t worry about any romance between us. As soon as she gets the uranium she’s leaving earth.”
“A woman’s been known to change her mind.”
“You don’t seriously think we’d run off and get married?”
“That’s one way she could get her citizen’s papers, and she’s a lot older than you. Older women can twist a young man around their fingers. Then what would my grandchildren be, piebald?”
“So you don’t think your future daughter-in-law’s family is acceptable?”
“She may be foreign royalty for all I know. Sometimes she behaves, well, queenly, as someone who expects to be treated as a lady of distinction. Sometimes I catch myself on the verge of calling her ‘ma’am.’ ”
“Matty didn’t defer to her,” he pointed out. “Matty took to her like a lost puppy.”
“I noticed.” Mrs. Breedlove nodded. “Matty was very solicitous toward her, something Matty usually isn’t. Maybe she’ll make Matty her lady-in-waiting if she decides to reign on earth. She wouldn’t have to wave any scepter to get your daddy to throw himself prostrate at her feet.”
“Mother, you sound jealous.”
“Maybe I am, Son,” she admitted, turning her attention back to the newspaper, “or maybe I’m frightened.”
Back from the ride, Kyra stayed in the kitchen to observe the icing of the cake, and Matilda reported on their activity to her brother, upstairs, where he was packing for Seattle.
“She rides like Lady Godiva, Tom, or at least the stallion must have thought so. It nickered and champed so much I thought it was going to climb into its saddle with her.”
His sister left him to go down the hall to her room and pack for Kyra, but she returned at times to confer with him on some item of dress. She was sending Kyra to Seattle with a fully equipped wardrobe, minus bras. “She doesn’t really need them, Tom. Mama’s old-fashioned.”
Mother might be old-fashioned, he observed to himself, but she was perceptive. Matilda acted the role of lady-in-waiting to the hilt, packing her favorite dresses and costume jewelry and attempting to coordinate the colors with silvery blond hair. Breedlove did not object to his sister’s generosity; hopefully he would return the clothes within two weeks.
At dinner Kyra tactfully apportioned her attention between his father, mother, and sister, with occasional asides to keep the son from feeling neglected. As guest she guided the conversation, and he noticed that she did avoid discussing Kanab or space travel, but he felt uncertain about her motives for doing so. Her interest in things of the earth was lively and genuine. She seemed spontaneous and candid, and she could have been bored with marvels to them that were commonplaces to her. He would have found it dull to lecture on the internal-combustion engine to cavemen.
After dinner Breedlove posed her alone and with his family for her “before” pictures and for Matilda’s scrapbook. She was photogenic and posed naturally, but no camera could have captured her personal magnetism. He made a snapshot of her for his billfold to show any doubting official he might encounter that her hair was naturally green.
Matilda asked her brother to leave the kitchen while she dyed Kyra’s hair, because it made her nervous when people watched her work, and he joined his parents in the living room, where they listened to the evening news. It was difficult for him to be impressed by the day’s events when he was already involved in the greatest news story in human history. He was more interested in the occasional progress bulletins Matilda came to the doorway to announce: “She’s been given a shampoo, and I’m applying the dye.” “I’m putting her hair in rollers.” “She’s under the dryer.” “She’s ready for combing out.” “She’s ready.”
In the kitchen Kyra sat on a high stool, a plastic cape over her shoulders, and
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