CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

The inside of the farmhouse felt too empty and quiet and lonely without Shy. Early evening cast long, ghostly shadows and thin slats of light through every room, but Thisbe couldn’t bring herself to turn on any lights or get a fire going in the library. Such small domestic things felt off limits to her, as they had on that first day she had arrived.

Instead, she paced the halls in the dwindling sunlight, and when that became too claustrophobic, Thisbe wrapped herself up in the oversized sweater she still had on loan from Maddy’s sister and slipped out the back kitchen door to go for a walk in the orchards.

The half-naked trees, the chattering crows, and the strange, squirrel-like Meletian critters hadn’t been the best company, but the walk at least had helped calm her down and keep her mind from spinning in circles. She replayed the scene at the gate in her mind for the twentieth time and wondered vaguely if she would ever get tired of self-flagellation.

Thisbe cringed, remembering how frozen she had been in front of the impartial camera. She had honestly thought that a public statement from her own mouth would mean something, that someone would listen. Instead, she had played right into her parents’ hands. That damned lawyer they’d hired had spoken her lines perfectly. And now…

Now she had lost what few allies she had. It was clear from the way they wouldn’t look her in the eye: Wallis and Shy had both bought her parents’ story. Neither of them believed her, she was certain of it.

Through the clattering bare branches of the apple trees, Thisbe could just make out the patient blue strobe of the lights on top of the sheriff’s truck outside the gates to the ranch. So Shy hadn’t allowed them on the property; she’d count that as a win. On the other hand, the sheriff and his thugs were still out there, waiting like wolves. It was no longer a matter of if they deported her, but when.

How many choices did that leave her with? She reached up and plucked a firm, ripe apple from a branch—one of the last in perfect condition—and made a list in her head as she crunched into the crisp, sweet-sour flesh.

Option A: Shiloh Kerridan came to her senses, realized Thisbe had been telling the entire truth about her family, rushed to Thisbe’s rescue, and together they defended Starfall Ranch from any outside forces by pelting them with high-speed apples and goat feces until they all went away and left the two of them alone to have unbelievably good sex at any hour of the day they pleased.

Her parents would get to keep all her money, but they could bury themselves in it for all she cared, so long as she was free. She would gladly walk away from the Vandergoss name and fortune in exchange for a humble, normal lifetime in a small town with the woman she loved.

This scenario was unlikely, however, given how stricken Shy had looked at the tabloid images of Thisbe’s drug-fueled rebellious phases. The Vegas wedding picture seemed to hit her particularly hard, which made it even worse for Thisbe that the bride in question, a Slovenian model she had met earlier that day at a fashion show, could not even remember Thisbe’s name when she woke up in their honeymoon suite the next morning. The marriage had been annulled amicably over brunch and they had never spoken to each other again.

Thisbe moved on to Option B: She could go back to the house, quietly gather her things and borrow a burlap sack from Shy’s kitchen. She could then take the sack back into the orchard, fill it up with as many apples and walnuts as she could carry, and sneak off the ranch the back way. From there, she would embark upon the classic semi-anonymous hobo lifestyle, taking on the name Penny Pickins, finding a bed to sleep in wherever a kind soul might let her bake or wash dishes in exchange for room and board.

Ugh, dreadful. Sort of romantic, she had to admit, but dreadful all the same. Still, it really only left her with Option C: Walking out the gate and allowing herself to be herded back to Earth to become her own sibling’s mother. Thisbe shuddered and tossed her apple core as far as she could. Earth was out of the question.

Unless… what if there was a way to give her police escort the slip at the shuttle station? Was there still time to find Sean Kerridan and would he still want to marry her, even if she did find him? Option Dick. Could she go through with it?

In the abstract, scared and alone, running from her parents and knowing nothing about Sirona, marriage to a strange man old enough to be her grandfather had seemed like the most benign option.

But after the week she had had with Shy, the time they had spent up on that hill, the way Shy had gripped Thisbe’s hand in hers… no. Even if Shiloh no longer felt the same way, Thisbe realized that she couldn’t lock that part of herself away again. Not when she’d only just found it for the first time in her life. There was no way she could marry Sean Kerridan, or anyone else, for that matter. Not if their name wasn’t Shiloh Kerridan.

Thisbe shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to go through with the contract to Sean Kerridan, and she wouldn’t allow herself to hope that Shy’s reaction at the gates was anything less than a wholesale rejection of a relationship together. The authorities were out there at that moment, waiting for the chance to drag her to one prison or another, and there was no way the team of lawyers in Luna City could get there fast enough to help her one way or another. She was out of options.

If you’re just going to give up, then why waste the time? She chided herself. Just get your things and go now, if that’s your only option. Might as well leave with some scrap of dignity, rather than cowering in someone else’s house, waiting for the bad guys to break down the door.

The wind picked up as she turned back on the path towards the farmhouse, carrying the sound of a goat’s plaintive bleating in the distance. In spite of the circumstances, she couldn’t help but smile at the memory of those nimble goats cheekily evading her attempts to herd them into the barn.

Wait a minute. Thisbe stopped dead in her tracks as that memory gave her an idea: maybe those little goats were on to something. She was not a meek little lamb, ready and willing to be herded on to the next Earthbound shuttle. Hadn’t she already proven it by escaping their clutches on Earth once already? She had jumped headlong into adventure to another world rather than let her parents jet her off to a medical facility in Hong Kong once before. She was Thisbe Vandergoss, and she had evaded her most powerful opponents thus far using her wits and resourcefulness. Her strength was in doing the unexpected, zigging when they believed her capable only of zags.

“No one herds me anywhere I damn well don’t want to go,” Thisbe declared to the surrounding trees. Her stride lengthened and she pushed her shoulders back, confidence restoring itself more and more with each footstep. She worked through her new plan aloud on the way up to the farmhouse.

“It’s so simple, so elegant. I just go. I get my stuff, hide some bottles of water and snacks in my luggage, then I walk out there, the perfect picture of obedience. None of them are going to suspect anything for a moment. Then, right when he’s busy giving a little victory speech to the cameras, I steal the sheriff’s truck and make a clean getaway with my middle finger raised high! They want crazy? I’ll give them crazy. Goat crazy.”

“Before you commit grand theft auto, can we talk for a minute?”

Thisbe came to a full stop and looked up to see Shy standing on the front porch steps holding a gorgeous bouquet of garden flowers.

“You heard that, did you?” Thisbe felt her face grow hot. Funny, she thought dying from mortification would have made her go cold.

“I did. And don’t get me wrong, you’d make a really sexy outlaw. I bet the first printing of your wanted poster would become a collector’s item. I’d want it signed and hung up in my bedroom.”

“Shy…”

Shy held up a hand to save off any further objection. Thisbe thought she looked inexplicably embarrassed about something.

“Please, just hear me out. I have something important to say but I really suck at this sort of thing. If I hold off much longer, I’m going to chicken out entirely and find some excuse to go check on the bots or the goats.”

Thisbe opened her mouth to say something anyway, but the look on Shy’s face kept her quiet—and curious. Instead, she nodded silently and stepped forward to join Shy on the porch.

“The truth is, Thisbe, you fucked up my whole life.”

Thisbe’s eyes widened and she spread her hands wide. She had committed to hearing Shy out but, seriously? This wasn’t a promising start. Shy fretted.

“Arg! That’s not how I meant it. Fuck. Okay.” Shy paced, running a hand through her hair. When she got to the far edge of the porch, she spun around on her heels and came back to a very perplexed Thisbe and tried again.

“You fucked up my life, but in the most amazing way. I had everything sorted out before you showed up on this porch with my seed catalog in your hand. I woke up, I drank my coffee, I tended my farm. I went through all the expected motions of a normal life, but it was just that: the motions.

“I had convinced myself that this was, somehow, exactly what I wanted. I left all the mess and heartbreak and bullshit back on Earth, and here I was, ascended to my own little piece of heaven. And then you showed up. You sweet, smart, funny, snuggly, wonderful, delicious creature. You showed up, and you threw my paradise into chaos, and I have loved every single terrifically scary moment with you.

“When you go, the sun goes. The food tastes worse—and not just because you bake like a motherfucking goddess of carbs. The air gets too still. Music gets irritating. And… hell, even the goats get sad. And we can’t have sad goats, Thisbe. That’s simply no way to run a ranch.

“I’m getting awkward and unfunny again and I’m sorry. Which is the point I was just getting to: I’m so sorry, Thisbe. For pushing you away, for leaving you in that parking lot all alone, for yelling at you, for doubting you, for letting my fears get the better of me and turn me into a raging jackass. I’m especially sorry for getting cheese all over your luggage, truly. That’s unforgivable, I know.”

Thisbe blinked tears out of her eyes and laughed in spite of herself, and Shy took a deep breath, rushing on.

“I’m taking forever, I know! I’m sorry for that, too. Bear with me a little longer, this is probably the most I’ll ever talk at once for the rest of my life. Okay, whew. Where was I? Oh right, dat sweet ass. Kidding again, sorry. (Seriously, though, you have the finest ass on two worlds). I’m truly sorry for everything that I put you through, and for everything that you’ve gone through to get here.

“You are, without a doubt, the bravest person I’ve ever known. You stood up to your family, you stood up to the world, and defied all expectations of the life they had planned for you. You were strong enough to find your own path, your own way. And I will thank the stars every single day for the fact that your path lead you here to me.”

Shy took her phone out of her pocket and moved over to stand beside Thisbe so that she could share her screen. Improbably, she pulled up the Happy Hearts matchmaking agency’s app, and Thisbe overwhelmingly felt like she perhaps needed to sit down. Shy handed her the bouquet of flowers with a quiet, “These are for you,” while she tapped at her screen to login.

“What…?” Thisbe asked, accepting the flowers.

“I know we’re both a little messed up in our own ways, but who isn’t? I know you never intended to come to Starfall, I know you and I never in a million years should have met, let alone fallen in love. But we did meet, and I do love you, with every atom of my being. So, I figured I should do at least one thing properly.”

Shy pulled up her Happy Hearts profile and clicked on the one match in her saves box: Thisbe’s profile hadn’t been deleted when she signed the contract back on Earth. She was still active in their system, and Shy had found her. Thisbe put a hand to her mouth and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as Shy went down to one knee and solemnly offered her phone up like a ring box.

“Thisbe Vandergoss, will you be my mail-order bride?”

Thisbe took her own phone out and fumbled through tears and laughter to pull up the app. She found the match request in her inbox, opened it, and clicked “accept.”

“Yes,” Thisbe said as she hit the button. “Without question, yes!”

Then Shy stood up and Thisbe threw her arms around Shy’s shoulders, ducking her head down to meet Shy’s mouth in a kiss that sizzled like apple brandy meeting the sun. Shy pulled back, after that first intoxicating connection, and cupped Thisbe’s face with her hands, then leaned in and solemnly, softly, kissed first one corner of Thisbe’s mouth, then the other, then the center of her Cupid’s bow on her upper lip.

She had never before been kissed in that way, and it felt like a private ritual created, paradoxically, thousands of years ago and yet intended only for the two of them in that exact moment. It felt like the beginning of a language only their mouths knew. It felt like a secret, shared prayer to the universe: please, just let us have this one perfect, brilliant, lovely thing. Thisbe exhaled softly and leaned forward until their foreheads touched, both women warm and alight with the possibilities of this new future.