Page 9 of An Alien for Her Heart

I want to open my mouth to correct her, to tell her this was no trouble, but the words are stuck in my throat. My fangs have lengthened behind my closed lips and if I speak now I will snarl. Something is making me more than irritated. I’m qeffing angry.

Turning away, I pretend I’m looking around the outbuilding’s interior and that I haven’t already spotted all the things that need fixing. “It was no trouble.”

Silence descends between us. It’s time for me to leave. There’s no reason to linger now. But there’s still that thing riding on my blood. That unsettled feeling. That rising anger.

Frakk it. I face her.

“I’ll be back on the new dawn with supplies and tools. We’ll get this outbuilding in proper shape.” I’m already mentally cataloging what I’ll need to bring from my own stores.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” She looks stunned, shaking her head as she speaks.

“Iwantto.” The words come out softer than I intended and it stops her in her tracks. It seems I’ve lost all control over the tone of my voice. For a long moment, we simply gaze at each other. Did I speak too softly? What am I doing anyway? I have jobs to do tomorrow. Paid tasks for clients that booked many sols before. I shake my head, breaking the spell. I should go.

“I’ll see you on the new dawn, Catherine.”

“Oh…” She seems stupefied.

Good. I don’t know what I’d do if she declined my help. So I give her a nod, chin to chest, before striding out of the building before she can come up with a very good reason to reject my offer. Like the fact the state of her farm is none of my business.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s probably the start of that long-dreaded insanity that has haunted me for too many sols now.

But beneath the practicalities, a new feeling takes root—the warm glow of something precious and delicate, unfurling tentatively within my battle-scarred soul. I tell myself it’s just the pleasure gained from helping another being.

It isn’t.

I would be a fool to lie to myself so blatantly.

It’s hope. Even though I know only the naive cling to such things so dearly.

3

CATHERINE

The sun’s high in the sky today again. I stand just outside the porch staring at it. It doesn’t nearly blind me as much as the sun on Earth did, but it’s not comfortable to stare at either.

My focus shifts to the sky itself. To the wisps of clouds and then to the pink hue behind it all. It’s still so strange to see, even now. As if someone diluted Kool-Aid and it spilled across the canvas above us.

When I first arrived here, transported by a carrier on behalf of the allied rebel camp I was staying in, I’d held my breath, eyes widening as I stared at the sky. I’d been worried I wouldn’t be able to breathe. With a sky like that, the air was probably toxic despite what I’d been told. It wasn’t (obviously). Unless it’s slowly killing me and I have no clue. But, isn’t everything else, too?

If finding myself in this new world has told me anything, it’s that I have less control over my life than I thought. We think we have control, but we don’t. People go. Time moves on.Youmove on—as best as you can anyway.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts because I know where they’ll lead. Down that road of old memories and pain. Instead,my gaze drifts to the fields stretching out before me. To the grass swaying gently in the breeze and the oogas grazing calmly now. If I’m lucky, this will be my last home. This farm, this land—an opportunity to create something that heals my broken soul. Something that is wholly mine.

Even if I’m doing it alone.

There’s an ache there at that thought. One that’s so old, so deep, that it feels like a deep fissure embedded inside me. I sigh, turning away from the porch as I head to the barn. Pushing the large doors open, I pop my head in before I enter, bracing myself for any chaos that might ensue. But the little umus are still in their enclosure. As I step in, I can see they’re all lying down on their little bellies, not a care in the world. Now and then, a slight shiver goes through one of them that makes their fluffy bodies vibrate, but apart from that, no one could convince me these were the same animals creating havoc just the day before. A breath of a laugh brushes past my lips. Just yesterday they were little terrors and today they look like soft plushies you just want to cuddle.

“You’re not fooling me,” I murmur as one lifts its head and watches me as I reach for my large grass-cutting scissors. I lift them and snip the air. The little umu continues watching me, before resting its head on what I’m going to assume is another’s butt.

“Nice pillow.” I chuckle, stepping closer to the enclosure. My shoulders are tight as I wait for the animals to react, but they don’t. They ignore me and continue resting. I release a breath of relief as the first genuine smile of the morning graces my lips. “Maybe he was right,” I whisper. “Maybe you really aren’t that bad.”

A swell of gratitude rises in my chest as I think of the alien with the pretty pink and purple scales. If he hadn’t come to my aid, I’d have probably woken up to all my hopes and dreamsfalling apart. Because of him, I still have my farm. All the oogas are fine, and I even have a set of little alien sheep that promises a second stream of income if I can figure out how to process their fur. I owe Varek…everything. And that’s why I got up early to ensure that his efforts don’t go to waste. “I’ll bring you some hay later,” I whisper, even though the umus still completely ignore me.

With that I’m heading out of the barn, my gaze shifting to the hole-filled roof only briefly. That’s something I’ll have to sort out soon. Fix the roof so I can move all the animals in. Get my field ready for crops and then I’ll be able to finally feel like I’ve got a strong hold on things.

I stretch my back, a yawn escaping my throat as I open the little gate separating the house from the field. The shawl is tied over my head to protect against the rays as I find the spot I was working on the day before. Kneeling, I waste no time as I begin snipping. At once, I’m reminded of how slow and hard work this is. I keep at it, getting maybe about a square foot done before I hear the engine of a vehicle nearby. My head pops up as I listen. With the silence of the plains, the sound of the engine is so obvious when it normally wouldn’t be anywhere else. Perking my ears, I listen. Short of getting up and staring, I have to just assume it’s someone passing by because these high grasses block my view of the road. That’s just another reason to cut them down.

I wait a few moments but the engine sound remains. My hearing might not be one hundred percent, but I’m pretty sure the vehicle is idling at what would be my gate. A second later, the engine sound dies.