Canvas Skies (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) (21 page)

She nodded. “Of course you may.”

Adira turned to leave. We sat in silence
until we heard the front door close. Then Beatrice gave me a
genuine smile. “You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?” She
studied me carefully.

I didn't look away. “Most of the time.”

Her smile grew. “Good. Now, I'd love to hear
your ideas.”

The first part was simple. We'd been given
20,000 gats from the benefit. The ladies had decided that for now,
we should deliver 4,000 gats to each of the orphanages in Tkaron,
earmarked specifically for children whose parents had been Elite.
It would be up to the head of each establishment to determine the
best way to spend the money on the children in their care.

The second part, curdled my stomach. We had
written a proposal for Parliament. Adira would present it on our
behalf. The committee had voted overwhelmingly in favor. They
wanted Gov regulations to filter Elite orphans into one particular
orphanage, in order to keep them separate from Working Class
children.

I began to feel light-headed. Unless I did
something drastic, this committee would only strengthen the Divide.
Then it dawned on me, and I knew the perfect way to help Working
Class orphans. I needed to talk with Guy.

“Are you feeling alright?” Beatrice touched
my shoulder, and I jumped with a start.

“I'm sorry,” I apologized. “I'm just feeling
a little faint.” I shook my head to clear it. “That's all we got
through today.”

“Then until next time.” She picked up a
little silver bell. A crystal clear tone sounded. Cadence
immediately appeared in the doorway, ready to show me out.

I hung a painting of two young girls in a
field of flowers and stepped back to check that it was centered.
The front bells chimed. I paused and watched as Brody walked
directly to Aimee. They spoke briefly.

Aimee hurried over. “Do you mind watching
the gallery for a bit? Brody has invited me to lunch.”

That's when I realized I'd completely
forgotten to ask Guy about Brody's connections to the Gov.

“Maybe I should come with you?” I said.

Aimee gave me a sideways glance. “I'd rather
you didn't, but I'll be happy to bring you back something.”

“No thanks.”

With that, she turned on her heels and left.
When she returned an hour later, she wasn't in the mood to talk, at
least not with me.

Just after 5:00, Eberhardt arrived with Guy.
It was a 15 minute drive from Art Fantastique to Forever Strong and
Fit, so I dove right in.

“What does Aimee know about Brody that I
don't?”

He shrugged. “I don't know what she
knows.”

I glared at him.

“Um, CalTech has been running security at
the Justice Center.”

“That's right,” I said, remembering what I'd
heard at Tony's. “Freelancers who've been hired by CalTech have
disappeared. And that's the same place where McGraw and Kamau and
other soldiers are likely being held. Isn't it?”

He nodded.

“Why didn't you tell me, and why aren't we
getting them out?”

“It's a delicate matter. We just have to
wait a little longer. And when was I supposed to tell you? At the
benefit? When Aimee finally broke her big news? How about afterward
when we, you know...”

Eberhardt's eyebrows shot up.

“Should I have brought it up then?”

I scooted away and looked out the
window.

“Keira, I was planning to tell you
everything, there just hasn't been time.”

I made a fist and swung my arm back hard. As
I hit the empty seat between us with full force, I yelled, “I hate
this!” I sighed, and my anger drained away as quickly as it had
come. I turned to look at Guy and said, “So tell me now.”

He took my hands in his. “Brody's been
hiring Freelancers to try to break in, to test their defenses. He's
reported that the ministers are finally feeling secure. What they
don't know is that I also have the security codes, and I've passed
them along to Harlow, who's been working with his contacts to
ensure that it's our people who are on the Parliament security
rotation. We'll be able to send in a rescue team soon.”

“And will I be part of the mission?”

“We'll see.”

Eberhardt pulled to a stop in front of the
gym.

“We'll talk more soon. I promise.”

While working out, we talked about my work
with the ad hoc committee. I filled him in as if I were happy about
it all, and when we returned to the car later, I told him about my
other idea, finishing with, “I think it's another good way to go
public, don't you?”

“Yes, it's a good idea,” he agreed. “I'll
set it up first thing tomorrow.”

Eberhardt drove us back to Art Fantastique,
and we watched from the car as Aimee turned off the lights and
locked up.

Guy pressed his lips against my hair. “Are
you still mad at me?”

“No.” I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“May I stay over again tonight?”

Life fell into a comfortable pattern of
work, recreation and rest, a balance of the mundane. Meanwhile,
Resistance activities continued to simmer.

On Monday mornings, Keira met with her
committee. Although she assured me she was being friendly, I didn't
think she was exactly making friends. The meetings seemed to stress
her out a great deal. Whether it was because of the ladies or
because of my mother, she wouldn't say.

Monday and Wednesday evenings found us at
the gym. This was Keira's area of expertise. She especially enjoyed
the climbing wall. However, she bemoaned the fact that we couldn't
practice grappling, wrestling or tumbling. Those simply weren't
activities for a lady. At least training seemed to relieve some of
her stress.

On Tuesdays when the gallery was closed,
Aimee and Keira focused on the orphanages of Tkaron. They purchased
much needed supplies: clothing, bedding, furniture, dishes and
medical supplies, and donated it all in the name of the Resistance.
They forged alliances.

In the evenings, we enjoyed dinner together.
While Aimee and I prepared the food, Keira and Eberhardt set the
table and kept us company. One evening, I held up a green pepper
and had a brilliant idea. I grabbed a knife and a cutting board and
demonstrated how to slice and dice. It was as I'd expected, Keira
was good with a knife.

A few times, Aimee invited Brody to join us
for dinner. I suspected he was also taking her to lunch more often
than not. In my opinion, he was good for her. He made her laugh,
and she began wearing brighter colors and trying her hair in
different styles.

Everything was going so well, and then my
parents invited us to dinner.

“I still can't get over this house!” Keira
exclaimed as we drove under the canopy of leaves that welcomed us
to my parents' estate. “Did you always live in houses this...this
extravagant?”

“Yes, but so do most Elite.”

“Oh, I know that. But I still can't get over
how different you are, how much you understand, how much you notice
about...well, about everything. About the world. About people like
me. You see what's happening, how much pain the Divide causes. How
did you do that? How did you break away?”

“I don't know exactly, but I'm glad I
did.”

“Me too.” She tilted her head to the side
and smiled at me.

Keira raised a good point. Why had I started
asking questions that most people avoid, and how could we get
others to do the same? Was it when my family moved to Tkaron, or
had I began asking questions much earlier?

My parents' butler, Simon, had been with
them for 20 years. He hardly ever smiled. I'd been a mischievous
nine year-old when he was hired. As a child, I'd tried to make him
smile at least once a day. It wasn't easy, but I was determined. I
held open the polished wooden door for Keira and watched as Simon
hurried over.

“Mr. Burke. Please, allow me.”

“Oh, it's not a problem.”

“It may not be a problem for you, but you're
doing my job.”

“Well, you may greet us and announce us to
my parents. Will that do?”

“I suppose.” Simon frowned. “Wait here.”

“Come on.” I grabbed Keira's hand and pulled
her along behind me.

“What? But, he won't like it,” she
whispered.

A minute later, Simon stopped in the
entrance to the dining room. “Richard and Miss Kendra James have
arrived. Shall I show them in?”

“Yes, please do,” my mother said.

Simon turned and bumped into me. He sighed.
Not even a hint of a smile. “You may go in.”

“Thank you, Simon.” I slipped a packet of
cigarettes into his pocket as we maneuvered past. It was his
favorite brand.

Keira squeezed my arm and whispered, “That
was sweet.”

My mother hurried over when she saw us.
“Welcome.” She grasped Keira's hands and kissed her on the
cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mrs.
Burke.”

“My dear, you're to be my daughter-in-law.
You may call me Bea.”

I leaned over and kissed my mother just as
my father entered the room. “Good evening, Father.”

“Good evening, Richard. Miss James, it's
nice to see you again.”

My mother may be ready to drop the
formalities, but my father was not. I looked around. It wasn't
every day that my parents lit the dinner candles, brought out the
best china and...I glanced at Cadence. She blushed and looked down.
So the intricately folded napkins had been her idea.

I directed Keira to a seat and pulled out
her chair. My mother, now seated at the foot of the table, smiled
in approval.

My father and I began as we always did, by
discussing business. My mother soon cut in with, “Richard!” She
spoke rather sharply and looked first at Keira and then at my
father. He started to sigh but caught himself and raised a napkin
to his mouth instead.

“Son.” I looked at him in alarm. He rarely
called me that. My mother didn't say a word. “You'll be married
soon.”

I nodded and looked across the table at
Keira. Then I returned my attention to my father.

“When that time comes, you'll be receiving a
promotion.”

I blinked in surprise. “But what about
you?”

“I'll keep some stake in the company, of
course. But I will no longer be taking such an active role. Those
duties will become yours. Congratulations.” Again, he gave my
mother a look I couldn't decipher.

“Yes, congratulations, dear,” she
echoed.

The air felt thick. Is this his idea or
hers?

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat and changed
the subject. “This steak is delicious! My compliments to the new
chef.”

“Yes, it's wonderful,” Keira chimed in.

“It's why we hired him. You know how much
your father enjoys steak,” my mother said.

Again, a look passed between them.

Keira tactfully looked down at her
plate.

“Have you heard?” my mother asked. “Someone
has been donating supplies to the orphanages in town.”

“That's wonderful! It sounds like you've
started a trend,” I said.

“To all of the orphanages. Donations for all
of the children. Do you see what I mean?”

“Oh, I see.” Keira was still staring at her
plate. She'd stopped eating.

“Yes, and people have been talking.”

I set down my knife and fork, and sighed.
“And what are they saying, Mother?”

“They're saying that the Resistance is
helping the Working Class children. The Gov really should crack
down on things like that, don't you agree?”

“What's the problem exactly?” Keira asked,
finally looking up to meet my mother's gaze. “They're just
children.”

“Well, it's an outrage, that's what it is.
All your hard work with the committee, gone.”

“But they're still receiving funding from us
too, so I don't understand what...”

“It can't be allowed,” my father cut in. His
voice deep and steady.

We all turned to look at him, and he
continued, “If Working Class children receive the same privileges
as the Elite, they'll expect more than is available. Competition
will skyrocket and as the children mature into able bodied adults,
Working Class citizens will begin to take on Elite jobs, leaving
Working Class positions unfilled. It cannot be allowed,” he
repeated.

“Can you imagine?” It was my mother again.
“The Working Class and the Elite working side by side.”

I looked at Keira, and she stared at me.

Somehow we made it through the rest of
dinner. Keira took my hand even before Eberhardt started the
engine. “Please say you're coming over tonight,” she pleaded.

“Better not. I have an early morning meeting
tomorrow. Turn around.” I nudged her gently. As the car began to
move down the drive, I squeezed her shoulders, gently at first,
then increased the pressure. I worked my way down her back.
“Better?”

She leaned her head first to one side and
then to the other. “Yes, thank you. How often will we have to dine
with them?”

“They'll expect it frequently, I'm afraid.
Probably about once per week.”

“Kill me now.” Keira's voice was
deadpan.

“Would you like a drink?” I asked as I
closed and locked the door.

Aimee was on the couch, in her pink pajamas.
She peered over the top of an art magazine. “No thanks, but I'll
sit with you while you have one.”

I decided to change into something more
comfortable first, so I went to my room and pulled on dark grey
sweatpants and a white tank top. Returning to the kitchen, I
reached for a bottle of wine and retrieved a glass from the
cupboard. Then I thought better of it and returned the glass. Two
sets of dishes rested in the rack next to the sink, along with two
wine glasses.