Page 34 of Tarek

There was a long silence. I could hear her breathing as she tried to compose herself.

"And we won't be cut off," I continued. "The Dragonii are arranging our travel, and you can come visit us without having to pay for the journey yourselves. We can video call, too. The Alliance network and the Bride Fleet systems can carry the calls, all free. You'll be able to see the children whenever you want, not just hear them on the phone."

"Even from that far away?"

"Even from that far away. They tell me there isn't even any noticeable lag."

I heard her sniff. "I just wish you'd told us before they called."

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't, sweetheart." Her voice softened, although I could still hear the tears in it. "I just wasn't ready to hear it from a stranger."

"I understand. I should have made sure to call you once we were settled."

There was a rustle on the other end, followed by my father's voice. "Here, love. Why don't you go and put the kettle on? I'll talk to him."

I heard my mother protest faintly, then the sound of the phone being passed over. My father waited a moment before speaking, presumably giving her time to leave the room.

"Your mother is upset, but I think I understand why you've done this," he said. "I had a feeling it might be something like that when I heard where you were going. I've seen the commercials and the posters for those colonies, and one even said they had cookies. I can see why a young man might be tempted."

I laughed, some of the tension finally easing out of my shoulders. "Dad, you're not supposed to admit the cookies are part of the appeal."

"Well, I'm not made of stone, son. If I were a younger man, I might be tempted to move there myself. But I'm too old to take up farming now, and I doubt they'd have much use for me as a rookie police officer."

"You'd be surprised. They seem to be recruiting just about everyone for something."

"Not me. My knees would give out for sure." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Still, once you're settled, you can expect us to come flying out to see you. I want to meet this new husband of yours, and your mother will want to see every inch of your new home. So you'd better make sure you've got a guest room, or at least a decent hotel nearby. And save us some of those cookies."

I laughed, happier than I'd been in days. "I'll make sure of it. And you'll both be welcome."

"Good. And Darren?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I'm proud of you. I know the last few months have been awful, and I know you've had to make some hard decisions. But it’s okay not to stay where you were just because it's familiar. You and those children deserve to be happy."

My throat tightened. "Thanks, Dad."

"Now, put those children on the phone. Your mother will be upset with me if she doesn't get to say goodnight to them."

I smiled and called the boys over. They crowded around me, eager to tell their grandparents all about the luggage, the Hot Wheels cases, and the fact that they were going to live on a different planet.

"Are you really going to have a dragon for a dad?" my mother asked once she'd returned to the phone.

"Not a dragon," Evan corrected her solemnly. "A Dragonii. And he's going to be our Pata."

"And we get to see spaceships and ride in them!" Matt added. "And we have grown-up suitcases of our own!"

"And a flying saucer, not just regular spaceships," Evan reminded him, as if he were suddenly an expert on interstellar spacecraft. "A real one."

Their excitement was infectious. I watched them talk over each other, each trying to explain the most important part of our new life, and felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the motel's heating. They were excited and looking forward to the changes, and that mattered more than I could say.

After we'd said our goodnights and promised to video call as soon as we could, I ended the conversation and set the phone aside.

For a moment, I sat quietly, listening to the boys return to their packing and arguing about which cars should go in which carrier. I was so happy that my parents had understood, or at least were trying to, and that our closeness wasn't going to be another casualty of Philip's betrayal.

The thought brought an unwelcome memory with it. Philip's parents had once seemed just as loving, just as supportive. I'd believed we were part of one big family, and for years I'd been certain that the people around us knew us as well as we knew ourselves.