Outcast (7 page)

Handing him the bedding, she pulled out two crates and went off to find a board. There was plenty of scrap material left over from building the house, and Bonnie soon found one the right size and put it on top of the crates. It wasn't fancy, but it did have the virtue of being relatively sturdy. Lynx merely stood watching her, unable to understand what she was doing. Doing her best to ignore the blank stare she was receiving in return for her kind efforts, Bonnie then went back to the house and returned with a kitchen chair and a lamp. Her power source would run anything within thirty meters of the house, and the far end of the shed fell just within its range. There were overhead lights in the shed, but Bonnie thought a lamp would make it seem a little homier.

"Got any clothes you need to have washed?" she asked. Lynx's pack was very small and couldn't have held much of a wardrobe, but she thought she should ask anyway.

"No," he replied. "I only have these."

Lynx drew back slightly as he said this, hoping that she wouldn't ask him to take them off so she could wash them. Being left naked and vulnerable in front of a woman was something he never wished to experience again. She would laugh at him, and he couldn't stand that anymore. He'd have thought that after so many years, he'd have gotten used to it, but he never had. Women's laughter still cut through him like a knife.

Laughing at Lynx was the very last thing on Bonnie's mind, however. She was thinking about getting something else for him to wear — after all, everyone needed a change of clothes! She had fabric and a sewing machine — both courtesy of her mother, who didn't think a primitive place like Terra Minor would have ready-made clothes — so she could make him something. The shirt and pants he had on didn't look as though they'd been made for him; they hung loosely on his thin frame, though it was possible that they'd fit him better at one time. The style was simple enough — a tunic that crossed over in front and tucked into trousers with a drawstring waist — and would be easy to duplicate. It was obvious that whoever had dressed him in the past hadn't gone to much expense, and, unfortunately, neither could Bonnie. When she'd asked Drummond to find her a hired hand, it had never occurred to her that he wouldn't have any clothes to speak of. Her only consolation was that he wasn't barefoot, though his sturdy sandals were more serviceable than stylish.

He was such a mystery to her! How did he get there, and where had he been? Why had he come to Terra Minor at all? With anyone else, a long talk over a pot of coffee and a batch of cookies would have filled her in nicely, but Lynx seemed so uncomfortable with her there that after a few awkward moments, she went back to the house, leaving him to make his own bed. She was almost glad to be away from him, for he seemed to exude sadness, uncertainty, and even fear. He had been brusque with her earlier in the day, but now he seemed wary, as though he suspected that she might harm him in some way.

Bonnie couldn't help but wonder if he'd gone outside to eat only because he couldn't stomach what she'd given him and had fed it to the dog instead. The plate had been licked clean, but that might only mean that Kipper had polished it off after Lynx was finished. It was possible that he was allergic to eggs — after all, many people were — and was too polite to refuse what she'd given him — though if his behavior constituted politeness, it was a different brand than she'd ever encountered before. If she hadn't already known Cat and Leo, she might have said it was from having been a slave or was possibly a Zetithian trait, but since they acted nothing like Lynx, she doubted it.

Entering the house, it seemed so empty to her now. There were only three months to go until her baby was born, and then she would have someone besides Kipper for company. She was looking forward to that. She was pretty sure she couldn't count on Lynx.

She told herself that it was probably better that Lynx didn't want to stay in the house — after all, she knew very little about him and might be safer with him out in the shed — but for some reason, it felt wrong. He'd saved her life, and she felt she owed him more than just a corner of the shed to sleep in.

He seemed to have a great deal of difficulty accepting things from her — perhaps from anyone.

Surely someone had shown him kindness in the past; it couldn't be so foreign to him that he didn't even recognize it! Bonnie had a much softer heart than she cared to admit, and that same heart was what had gotten her into a plethora of man trouble in the past. Still, it was her nature to be kind, and she vowed to continue to show him kindness — whether he liked it or not. Reminding herself that she had only advertised for a hired hand, not a roommate — and certainly not a husband — she went to bed.

One of the Nimbaza region's more violent storms passed through that night, and Bonnie was very glad she was safe inside her house when it hit. Knowing how deafening the sound of a heavy downpour could be when it pounded on the metal roof of the shed, she doubted that Lynx was getting much in the way of sleep on his first night. She listened for the sound of him pounding on the door, wondering if he might have been rethinking his decision to sleep out there, but the sound never came — or if it did, she couldn't hear it.

She needn't have worried. With only half of what she'd given him, Lynx had put together the most comfortable bed he had ever slept on in his entire life. He was tired, having walked all the way from Nimbaza and then run to Bonnie's rescue. After binding her wounds, he'd been so angry that he had to do something to work off a little steam. Building the fence had been as much a mental exercise as a physical one; he'd come up with the idea almost immediately and had acted on it. He still didn't quite understand why he'd been so angry with her. Even though he'd rarely been treated with kindness, he did understand the concept. He thought briefly about what else he could do to repay her, but exhaustion finally closed down his mind. He never even heard the thunder.

Bonnie, however, slept fitfully. Perhaps it was from thinking about Cat and Leo — how friendly they were and how happy their wives seemed to be — and, most of all, how different they were from Lynx. She knew that there were wide variations in every species, but for some reason, his behavior just didn't seem to fit.

At last she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, but Lynx was still on her mind even while she slept. In her dreams, she could see his eyes glowing with passion, could feel his warm hands on her body, could almost taste his soft, sensuous kisses...

Bonnie awoke with a start, her lips tingling as though Lynx had actually kissed her. "Don't be silly,"

she whispered to herself. "He's not like Cat and Leo at all. I shouldn't expect it of him." But she couldn't quite shake the notion that it wasn't an unrealistic expectation. There was far more to him than met the eye.

When Bonnie let Kipper out the next morning, Lynx was already feeding the enocks. Watching him through the window, she realized that while she had yet to tell him what his duties would be, he had already assumed many of them himself. He certainly wasn't lazy, she decided, even if he was a little strange. Not to mention the fact that he had somehow managed to invade her dreams.

Figuring that he probably didn't want eggs again, Bonnie fixed some cold cereal with fruit instead.

She wasn't sure whether to call him or just wait for him to knock on the door, but when he didn't show up by the time she'd finished her own, she decided to yell.

Lynx heard the call and came promptly, though it never occurred to him that she would have called her dog the same way. He was used to that and hardly noticed. He did notice that she had at least called him by name, which was better than being referred to as "Boy" or "Slave," as he had so often been called in the past. He put out of his mind the other names he'd been given — they didn't apply to him any more than boy or slave did. When he reached the back door, Bonnie handed him his breakfast, which he took from her without a word.

Thinking that Kipper would at least have wagged his tail, Bonnie watched Lynx through the window, hoping to find out whether he would eat what she'd given him or feed it to the chickens.

What she saw made her stare in horror.

Bonnie had never seen anyone eat so fast in her life; he wolfed down the cereal and then drank the juice in what seemed like one big gulp. It was no wonder he was so thin and didn't care what she gave him to eat! He was practically starving! Bonnie stared blindly at him for a long moment and then sprang into action. After stuffing bread in the toaster, she called for him again.

"I forgot to give you some toast," she said, trying not to make it obvious that she'd been watching him. "I didn't know if you liked butter or jelly, so I made it with both." She hesitated a moment before adding, "It's market day, so after I pick whatever's ripe and gather the eggs, I've got to pack up and go into Nimbaza. I won't be back until late, so when you get hungry, just help yourself to whatever you like. There's plenty of cheese and bread and fruit — and eggs, of course!"

He nodded, his expression as neutral as ever. "The speeder does not function," he said flatly.

"Oh, I'll walk," she replied. "I've got a cart to carry everything in, so — "

Lynx took a breath as though he was about to interrupt, but seemed to think better of it. He would not remind her again to think of the child she carried.

"What were you going to say?" she asked.

"I have already gathered the eggs," he said, changing the subject.

"The chicken eggs too? Well, that's great! If you'd give me a hand with the fruits and vegetables, I'll get there quicker and maybe sell it all before it gets too late. Is there anything you need in town?"

His expression was so blank, Bonnie wasn't sure he'd even heard her, let alone understood what she'd asked, and when she began to explain, he just said, "No."

Bonnie could think of about a million things that he might need in town, but took him at his word.

"Well," she said doubtfully, "finish your breakfast then, and we'll get started in the garden."

Lynx had never done any farm work before, but he was a quick study, and they had the crates full in no time, after which he loaded them onto the cart. The cart, which not only moved under its own power but also had the virtue of being refrigerated, was what had saved Bonnie when the speeder had finally died on her. Before, she'd always hitched it to the speeder and zoomed on into town, but the cart moved along nicely at a walking pace and, though she was pretty sure Kipper missed riding in the speeder, it served her well.

As she set out, Bonnie's heart felt much lighter than it had in some time. It was a pleasant spring day, and she had plenty to sell; there might even be enough left over to pay Lynx a little bit after she paid her bills — and she had as many bills as anyone. The grain and sunflowers were her main source of income for the year, but the garden produce and the eggs were her cash crops, and now that she could get enock eggs without risking life and limb, she considered trying to trap more of them. Unfortunately, without a working speeder, she was unlikely to have much success.

Bonnie's outlook on the future had improved considerably now that she had Lynx around to help.

Before, she'd always dreaded trying to get those eggs every day and had been concerned about what she would do when the baby came. But now, she wasn't worried, and it felt good.

The hike to Nimbaza was about eight kilometers, and though Bonnie and Kipper made it in good time, it was getting hot when she set up her cart in the marketplace. As usual, the enock eggs were the first things to sell out. She saved two of them to trade for cheese and butter from her neighbor, Salan, whose father ran a dairy. Her friend, Zuannis, was a baker, and though she also traded for Bonnie's eggs, she preferred chicken eggs. "They are better for baking," she had told Bonnie. "I would have to make too big a batch to use an enock egg — and have to charge too much for my bread!" There were several other people who raised cows, pigs, and chickens, but since Bonnie was the only one in the region who raised enocks, she pretty much had a corner on the market. People just couldn't seem to get enough of those eggs, and she knew she could sell as many as her enocks could produce. She grudgingly admitted to herself that Sylor had been right about them being a good source of income. They had spotted several adult enocks eating the fallen fruit of an indigenous tree, and, knowing how much people delighted in finding the occasional egg, Sylor had gotten the idea to trap them. They tried several different ways before coming up with the speeder and net method, which had been risky, but effective. It took two people and a fast speeder, though — neither of which Bonnie had had since Sylor left.

It was midmorning when the region's only two Norludians, Gerna and Hatul, approached her booth and touched every single thing Bonnie had set out — including the eggs — with their strange sucker-tipped fingers before deciding what they wanted to buy, just as they always did. Jack had once warned her not to ask why they did that, just to let them do their thing and move on, but on this particular day, Bonnie was feeling adventurous.

"Why do you do that, Gerna?" she asked curiously as they finished up their transaction. "I can understand wanting to see if the fruit is ripe, but why the eggs?"

Laughing conspiratorially as she glanced at her mate, her bulbous eyes blinking rapidly, Gerna replied. "We only choose the things that affect us in a... sexual manner."

Since they were both quite thin, Bonnie was left to assume that there weren't many fruits and vegetables that met their requirements. "And you feel this through your fingertips?" Shaking her head in bewilderment, she added, "I don't get it."

"Perhaps if I touched you, you would understand," Hatul said in his odd, piping voice. "Just a touch on your hand — "

"Don't let him do that!" a nearby voice called out.

Bonnie looked up to see Zuannis heading toward her, waving her arms in protest, her colorful robes billowing out behind her. Zuannis was a Twilana, and, as such, was tall, bald-headed, and had a nose like the snout of a rhino — horn and all. Twilanas were one of the few species Bonnie had ever encountered whose males were much more attractive, and smaller, than their females. Their style of dress didn't seem to be gender specific, and Bonnie had made the mistake of thinking that Zuannis was a male when they first met. Zuannis had a good sense of humor and didn't make a fuss, but her husband had been less forgiving, pointing out that he wasn't the one wearing the earrings. "He'll...