Three Weeks in May
By Cherese A. Vines
Copyright 2012 Cherese A. Vines
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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3
W
I
M
three.weeks.in.may
by.cherese.a.vines
cover.design.by.jessica.l.lyons
To my husband with love.
-Resi
And special thanks to Jessica L. Lyons.
-Sissy
Part I
Chapter One
February, New Earth (N.E.)
Present Day 06
It was a foggy day in DuSable City. The cloudy air rolled quickly off the lake. Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver felt cold to the bone. She wore a brown crochet hat pulled down low, but it barely covered her short black curls or even her now completely frozen ears. A scarf would have been nice. Her summery bronze color had faded to her normal honey brown, but now, in the freezing cold, her skin was downright pale. In hindsight, she should have dressed less “cute.” Still, cute was cute. Her quarter-length pea coat matched the hat and showed off her beige suede skirt with the dangerously high slit up the back. Gwen cursed the slit just now, and held fast to her fiancé’s warm, gloved hand.
I should’ve worn gloves too. Gwen shivered involuntarily. Elliot Polis Rosser smiled down at her. She smiled back up at him. A few inches shorter than Elliot at five-six, the four-inch high-heeled boots she wore brought her up to within an inch of looking eye-to-eye with the love of her life.
Elliot looked cute too, she thought. She had chosen the chocolate-colored, full-length wool coat and plaid newsboy cap he wore. His hairless face was a mask of patience as he stood beside her. Gwen enjoyed looking at his profile with its smooth brow, large jaw and pointy chin. His violet-hued eyes, like other Monacurians, stood out against the gray, snow-covered day. He looked the stylish yet humble and considerate gentleman she had met five years before. Now they were going to be married. She was happy to be standing by his side. But it was taking this woman forever to make it down the line of excited couples, she thought. Gwen leaned forward quickly to glance at the Matchmaker. She guessed that they all had to be deeply in love to suffer through this mid-February ceremony.
It was the Ceremony of Moons. The Monacurians used the ceremony to give couples official blessings to get married. Elliot was Monacurian, so he was accustomed to the ceremonies, but this was all new to Gwen. She was Human. The whole ceremony was exciting and romantic at the same time. It had some history to it–a history that Gwen longed for. It seemed as if she could not find any history in DuSable City. The great museums and libraries seemed oddly devoid of anything more than fifty years ago. When she asked, the curator or librarian always said something like: “There was a fire,” or “Everything was stolen during the wars. The Monacurians helped us rebuild.”
Gwen heard someone stifle a cry, which brought her mind back to the ceremony.
“What happened?” She whispered, glancing down the line again.
“Shh.” Elliot warned gently and gave her a wink.
The Matchmaker continued down the line, stopped at another couple and grasped their clasped hands. She announced something in Monacurian and the couple smiled. This happened three times and all the couples kissed both cheeks of the Matchmaker and stepped back. Gwen was about to lean back when the Matchmaker announced something different to the fourth couple. They immediately bowed their heads to the Matchmaker and stepped back.
Gwen’s forehead wrinkled. She did not speak Monacurian, but she knew a few words and could tell that the Matchmaker had said something different to the fourth couple. Elliot was teaching her the language too slowly for her taste. She waited and watched the fifth couple, straining her ears to hear and try to translate the Matchmaker’s words. The Matchmaker made her announcement and the couple kissed her cheeks.
“Hmm.” Gwen hummed and straightened up. “What did she tell that other couple–the one that touched their heads to her hands?”
“In a minute.” Elliot cautioned, shaking her hand slightly to quiet her. She frowned up at him.
The chill of the morning air disappeared as Gwen listened to the Matchmaker as she moved closer. Her nervousness made her suddenly warm all over. Finally, the Matchmaker stood before Elliot and Gwen. The woman was not that much older than Gwen’s twenty-six years. She had dark, violet eyes and bronze skin. Her black hair was pulled into a rather large, tight bun on the top of her head. She wore robes of satiny purple that reached down to the ground and reflected in her eyes.
Elliot removed his glove and raised his hand with Gwen’s chilled fingers intertwined in his. She immediately felt his nervousness, and squeezed his hand gently. The Matchmaker placed both of her palms around their hands, pressing them together. Gwen smiled at her. But the woman did not look at them directly, but over their heads. Gwen wondered about this because she could have sworn that the Matchmaker looked at the other couples.
The Matchmaker said something in Monacurian. Elliot sighed and immediately touched his head to the Matchmaker’s hands. Gwen gave him a confused look. He indicated with his head that she should do the same as he had. She felt that the Matchmaker had just given them some bad news, but she complied slowly and then let Elliot lead her backward, out of the line.
“Wait a minute,” Gwen protested as they joined the crowd standing behind the other couples. “What just happened?”
“This is not the time,” Elliot whispered hastily.
There were several other couples for the Matchmaker to speak to. Gwen bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. She hated waiting. She wanted to know what was going on. Finally, the ceremony finished and the Matchmaker made a short speech seemingly of congratulations and then the crowd in front of her cheered and clapped. People moved forward to congratulate the couples who had remained in the line.
“OK. What just happened?” Gwen demanded, turning to Elliot. He pulled her back through the crowd and started walking toward the parking lot.
“She said no,” Elliot informed her, unconcerned.
“No to what?” Gwen asked, pulling him to a stop.
“She didn’t approve our marriage,” he replied. “Come on, it’s cold. Let’s get to the car.”
“No, wait. She said no. So what? I thought this was just something you all do to help people celebrate. So what if she said no.” Gwen waved her hands around erratically.
“It means that we are not ready. We cannot officially get married without the Matchmaker’s blessing.”
She thought the ceremony was in name only. How did this woman know if they were ready for marriage? She opened her mouth to tell Elliot this, but he stopped her with a look.
“We can stand before the Matchmaker in three months,” he told her and started walking again.
“You can’t be serious? What about our plans–the wedding date? We picked everything out, and I almost have everything booked already.” She crunched after him across the muddy snow. Elliot stopped and turned to her. The solemn look in his dark, violet eyes made Gwen stop short.
“This is the way it’s done. Gwen, you will have to accept my customs if we’re going to be married.” Elliot frowned and turned back toward the parking lot. She just stared at him. It was ridiculous, but he was right. If she was going to be a part of the Monacurian culture, she had to respect their customs.
Dammit, she thought and trudged after him
***
Cheers greeted Gwen and Elliot as they entered the restaurant momentarily drowning out the loud jazz music. All of their friends and family raised their glasses as the couple made their way hand-in-hand to the bar area. The restaurant’s usually dim lights were all the way up and the tables were arranged around the outer walls and tall windows that faced the snowy evening. A live band that consisted of a lead saxophonist, a keyboard player and drummer played from a corner that faced the entire room.
People mingled and danced on the small dance floor made in the center of the room. The bar was just as crowded where others waited for glasses of the several hundred wines stocked by the restaurant. Gwen was glad that she and Elliot had convinced his parents that they should only pay for the food. But apparently it did not matter to many of their friends and co-workers who were lined up at the bar. She almost chuckled, but her mood would not let her. What would Elliot’s parents say when they found out? Would they think it was her fault that the Matchmaker had denied them? She did not like the position she was in, and Elliot seemed not to care.
Gwen smiled her sweetest smile and tried to suppress the urge to try to break the fingers clasping hers. Elliot glanced back at her briefly, his brow furrowed. She continued to smile, ignoring his look. He knew she wasn’t happy. That was enough. They had decided in the car that they would not tell anyone but their parents and closest friends that the Matchmaker had denied them her blessing.
“Congratulations!” Savannah Little yelled, pushing other well-wishers aside as she made her way to the couple, and gave Gwen a bear hug. Savannah was her friend and co-worker at the Coalition, and she was anything but “little” at five-ten, made taller by her crown of auburn-tipped coils.
“Thanks.” Gwen was smiling so hard she felt like her face was going to crack. Savannah stood back and stared at her, and then rolled her green eyes.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s fix your face before Mama Irene sees it.” She pushed her way through the crowd, dragging Gwen toward the bathroom. “Out of the way unless you want to get peed on.”
“Savannah.” Gwen almost laughed despite her mood.
“You see they’re getting out of the way. Come on.”
Gwen accepted several more congratulations before she and Savannah made it to the bathroom. The overpowering scent of potpourri made her cough as her friend checked the stalls for company. Finally Savannah turned and faced her.
“What’s wrong?”
It almost occurred to Gwen to lie, but when calling her mom was not an option, Savannah was always there.
“The Matchmaker didn’t give us her blessing,” she answered in a neutral tone. She did not want her friend to know how much it actually bothered her.
“What?” Savannah crossed her arms, making her already revealing top more nonexistent. Gwen absently wondered if her friend knew it was February.
“Why should some crazy person decide whether you can get married or not? So what senile reason did she give you?”
“I didn’t ask.” Gwen smiled at Savannah’s mocking tirade. But then she sighed. “Elliot said to let it go. We can go back before the Matchmaker in three months. And we’re only telling family and close friends. OK?”
“OK,” she responded dismissively, rolling her eyes again. “But that doesn’t make a bit of sense. Are they going to dictate how many kids you can have too? Or where you’re going live? That’s just crazy.”
Gwen did not answer. What Savannah had just said got her thinking. She would have to go see the Matchmaker and find out exactly why she denied them. Just then the door opened.
“Hey, Gwen. Congratulations,” the woman greeted her. Gwen could not for the life of her remember who the woman was. She smiled anyway.
“Thanks.”
“I think they’re looking for you out there.”
“Thanks,” Gwen answered again as the woman went into a stall. She turned to leave when Savannah grabbed her arm.
“Your face,” Savannah said, indicating her mood.
Gwen made an exaggerated gesture of presenting her best B.S. smile to which her friend nodded approvingly as she opened the door.
“You know your hair is taller than most of the men in here tonight.” Gwen observed, glancing up at Savannah as they left the bathroom.
“Well, the girls are on their eye level, so I’m sure they don’t mind.”
Gwen laughed genuinely.
***
“You still mad at me?” Elliot asked later that night as he nuzzled Gwen’s neck. She stood in front of the refrigerator, filling her glass with water from the dispenser. The slight buzz she had from the engagement party earlier that evening was wearing off.
“I wasn’t mad,” she informed him, trying to ignore the pleasant sensation spreading through her from the touch of his lips. She moved away. “I’m just frustrated. You’re not the one planning a wedding and suddenly have some stranger put everything on hold for three months.”
Elliot sighed. “Gwen, you have to understand…”
“I get it, Elliot,” she cried, talking over him.
“Gwen…”
“I get it. I just have to rearrange…everything. Maybe we should just postpone it until next year. Thank goodness I haven’t sent the invitations yet. Maybe I can stop the printer…”
“Gwen!” Elliot grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her rambling. “What’s really going? You knew the Matchmaker could delay us. Now you’re talking about waiting another whole year.”
“I just want to be married on that date,” she answered evasively, pulling out of his reach and sitting down at the breakfast bar. The small kitchen felt smaller by Elliot’s looming and inquisitive presence. “I just want everything perfect. We can wait. We’re not in a hurry. We’ve been engaged only a few months. I was always told that people should be engaged at least a year.”
“I know when you’re avoiding answering me.” He stood over her, watching her nervously wipe the condensation from the glass.
“That’s it. Honestly, Elliot.” She glanced up at him momentarily and then took a drink of water.
“We’re not waiting another year,” he said firmly. “The Matchmaker will approve our marriage in three months and everything will go fine–just the way you want.”
“You don’t know that, Elliot. Anything could happen.” Gwen’s eyes glazed with tears and she turned away from him.
“Like what?” Elliot asked, concern entering his eyes. He placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Never mind.” Gwen abruptly left the room.
“Talk to me.” She heard Elliot call after her, but she knew he would not follow her. He had learned not to follow. It was better if he didn’t. They would argue just like her parents. Gwen shut the door to the bedroom and turned on the radio next to her side of the bed to drown out her thoughts. It did not work. She lay on her stomach across the queen-size mattress and shut her eyes.
Gwen suddenly pushed herself up from the gold-embroidered duvet and paced the large room. There were so many thoughts and doubts going through her head that she could not stop them. She really loved Elliot. She just did not want to “rock the boat.” They were so good together. Everything seemed to click just as long as she kept her head.
She pulled off her suede jacket and angrily tossed it toward the closet. As she made a second circuit pass the plush armchair near the bathroom door, she stopped and plopped down into it. She pulled weakly at her boots for several seconds and then abandoned the effort and sank back into the chair cushions. Gwen could never be completely herself around him. She had too much of her mother’s combative spirit in her. She vowed that Elliot would never see that side of her. By avoiding any confrontation, he could never hurt her and she could never hurt him. But Elliot was right, she thought, as a solution formed slowly. They could still go through with the wedding. She just needed to be sure that the Matchmaker would approve.
***
It took several tries before she got an address from the Coalition for the Matchmaker. The Coalition seemed to guard the Matchmaker’s information like she had the access codes for a nuclear bomb or something. The brownstone looked fairly new despite its classic-looking facade. The faded red brick stairs were brightened by the almost cayenne-red of the front door. An arch decorated the top of every window in a gray-brown stone imprinted with an intricate floral-like design.
Gwen stood nervously outside. She had gone straight to the Matchmaker’s home immediately after work. She was dressed more warmly than she had on their first meeting, and she remembered her gloves. Still, the chilled winds that blew through DuSable City challenged her almost ankle-length navy down-filled coat. It was more than a few minutes before the door finally opened.
“Hi,” Gwen said giving the young woman her cheeriest smile.
“Yes?” the woman asked, hesitantly. She seemed unwilling to open the door more than a crack. Her small amethyst eyes, looking out from a petite, coffee-colored face, studied Gwen with mistrust. She wore a plum-colored velvet robe similar in style and length to the satin robe the Matchmaker had worn to the Ceremony of Moons. However, Gwen could see the cuff of dark blue jeans peaking through a fold of cloth. The woman was obviously the Matchmaker’s assistant although Gwen did not remember seeing her at the ceremony.
“I came to see the Matchmaker.” Gwen was freezing, having walked three blocks from the “L,” but she kept her smile in place.
“The Matchmaker doesn’t see anyone except at the Ceremony of Moons. The next ceremony will be…”
“That’s what I’m actually here about.” Gwen interrupted her. She grinned harder. “I was at the ceremony last Saturday and she actually…refused to…approve my marriage.” She finished slowly.
“If that is what the Matchmaker has announced…”
“I know. I just want to find out why. You see, I have all these places reserved, food on order…you know how it is. I just want to find out why she denied us so that I can make sure that she’ll approve us in three months.”
“I cannot help you.” The woman looked over her shoulder nervously, causing her long, straight black hair to whip about erratically. Gwen noticed her anxiety and leaned in toward the door, dropping her smile.
“Well, maybe you could help me,” she whispered conspiratorially. “You’re the Matchmaker’s assistant?”
“Apprentice.”
The woman looked quickly at Gwen and then back inside. Hmm? Gwen thought.
“Is she letting you…announce?” Gwen asked leadingly. “Or does she say that you’re not ready?”
“I’m ready,” the woman whispered, looking at Gwen haughtily.
“Well, then you can help me. We don’t need to bother the Matchmaker.” Gwen shrugged innocently, giving the woman a slow smile as she straightened up. “I just need to know why.”
“Because I said no.” The door flew open and the Matchmaker stood in the space. The other woman melted into the background.
The Matchmaker also wore a dark velvet robe. Her hair was free from the bun she wore to the ceremony, but it was still trapped in a long black braid that lay across her shoulder. Her dark, violet eyes looked down on Gwen. The sternness of her expression formed lines around her full mouth.
“So you just decide to say no and that’s it?” Gwen said with as much politeness as she could muster even though she was past being irritated. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t accept that. There is always a reason…for everything. Why is it such a secret?”
“It is not secret,” the Matchmaker addressed her stiffly. She clipped the end of her words off sharply, making her Monacurian accent sound heavy. It sounded slightly Mediterranean.
“Then, you can tell me.” Gwen gave the Matchmaker her most dazzling smile. She even put in a short batting of her eyelashes.
“This is not how it is done. It is not the Monacurian way,” the Matchmaker told her. It was evident that she did not appreciate Gwen’s presence or her attempts to “butter her up.”
“Well, as you can probably tell, I’m not Monacurian. This would be so helpful.” Gwen continued without a hitch. “As I was telling your apprentice, I have made reservations and we’re really on a…not a tight schedule, but you can imagine how hard it will be to reschedule everything. I’ve even gotten the invitations to the printer.”
“Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver.” the Matchmaker interrupted her. “I do not envy the difficulties you have created for yourself. However, my announcement was not made with the intention of hindering you.”
It took Gwen a second to respond as she tried to remember if she had told the Matchmaker her name. Maybe the Matchmaker remembered it from the ceremony. She shrugged it off and continued.
“Well, just tell me how I can fix it and I’ll be out of your hair,” Gwen stated a little more challenging than she intended.
The Matchmaker narrowed her violet eyes and stared at Gwen. Gwen stared back, trying not to shiver from the chill. Was it from the outside or the chill of the Matchmaker’s stare that made her feel cold all over? She stood her ground and waited. After a good minute of this, the Matchmaker mumbled something in Monacurian and opened the door wider.
“You’re letting the cold in.” The Matchmaker motioned Gwen inside. Gwen nodded her head in acceptance and entered the building. She knew a little Monacurian from Elliot, and she did not think the Matchmaker’s words sounded nice at all. But as long as she could get what she wanted, the Matchmaker could mumble insults under her breath all day long.
She politely followed the Matchmaker pass what looked like a sitting room, but she did not have time to look inside as the woman led her up the stairs and through the first door at the top.
“Sit,” the Matchmaker instructed unceremoniously as they entered the backroom of the brownstone. The apprentice had disappeared, Gwen could only guess where. But it did not matter because she was about to get the goods from the horse’s mouth…so to speak. Gwen sat down onto a plush ottoman next to the wall. The Matchmaker settled onto a low wooden stool opposite Gwen’s.
“Give me your hand,” the Matchmaker commanded.
As Gwen removed her glove and held out her hand, she looked around the room. It was cluttered with fabric hanging from ceiling to floor on every wall. She could not even tell where any windows might be. There were shelves on every wall except the one she had entered the door by. Each shelf was piled high with books or glass containers. She could not remember what they were called, but Gwen was sure they were the same type of containers she used in chemistry class back in high school. There was one bright lamp in the room, but it only illuminated the space to a dim glow.
“Look at me, Girl.”
Gwen slowly turned her eyes to the Matchmaker and arched one eyebrow. She was no girl. She had not been a girl for sometime. She was twenty-six, and she did not appreciate being referred as a girl. Gwen was about to correct the Matchmaker on this detail when the woman said,
“Your heart does not belong just to Elliot Polis Rosser.”
“What are you talking about?” Gwen asked, surprised.
“When your heart is Meant for a certain individual, your chakra burns vibrantly for that one person. Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver, yours is divided. A chakra cannot allow you to love two people at the same time. This means your heart is still attached to someone else, and so it doesn’t shine as brightly as it should.”
“There is no one else. I’ve been with Elliot for five years and I was working on my masters. I didn’t have time for anything else! Besides, I don’t even know what a chakra is!” Gwen protested.
“Your aura. Your life energy.” The Matchmaker explained gently. “You must search your heart, Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver. I cannot approve your union with your Monacurian mate when the two of you are not Meant.”
“But we are meant to be together,” Gwen replied. “You must be mistaken. How do you even know any of this? I can’t believe you’re actually going to delay our wedding on a feeling you have…”
The Matchmaker rose smoothly to tower over Gwen, causing her to bite off the end of her sentence.
“What I tell you is not based on feelings. I am no voodoo priestess or some soothsayer from your world. There is no magic or fantasy about Monacurian science.” The Matchmaker assured her in a steely voice. “What I tell you is truth. Genetic composition. Biological compatibility. His chemical essence will not match well with yours. This has been compounded by your split chakra. If I say that you are not Meant for Elliot Polis Rosser, it is true.”
“Is it because I’m Human?” Gwen demanded after taking a breath to get back her voice. She stood to face the Matchmaker eye-to-eye. Although this was a bold move, she had to clinch her teeth to keep her chin from trembling in the face of such authority.
“Humanity has nothing to do with my decision, Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver. I have approved many other Monacurian and Human unions. They were Meant. Their essences matched. Their genetic information was compatible…”
“And you gathered all this just from touching their hands?” Gwen interrupted the woman with a skeptical laugh.
“The oils and sweat from your body, your hands…” The Matchmaker held out her hand for Gwen to see. In the dim light, she saw a slight glistening on the Monacurian’s line-less hand. “Monacurians absorb organic information through the skin. We have evolved to a place where there is no need for your primitive Bunsen burners to mix chemicals for reactions.” The Matchmaker indicated the shelves of glass containers. “Everything we need to know about one another comes from one single hand touch.”
Gwen stared at the Matchmaker for what seemed like years. Suddenly all the little odd things Elliot did came back to her. He never shook hands with strangers or wanted to go swimming in the public pools. He always wore gloves on the “L” train, especially when he had to stand up and hold onto the poles or straps. He had told her all of this at one time. How could she have forgotten? Especially when they made love, his touch was like magic. But now, it had become so routine to her, so normal that she no longer noticed unless she was angry. Could that be what the Matchmaker meant? Was it because she could not allow herself to completely surrender heart to him? She opened her mouth to protest these thoughts or say something, but the words would not come. Not even a sound.
She came to her senses as the brownstone’s door closed loudly behind her. The chilly February air felt warm next to her cold body. Deep in thought, Gwen wandered slowly away from the brownstone. Then she suddenly realized that she did not care about Monacurian science. Earth science had never explained away emotion or intuition–that “gut” feeling. She was not about to let Monacurian science disregard what she felt–what she knew–was true. But how could she defend feelings that she could not describe? More importantly, how could she allow herself love to Elliot completely? She could not let him go. That was not an option. But the fear of hurt welled around her heart.
Fighting against the fear, Gwen decided that she should talk to Elliot. But he would probably tell her that she should not have gone to see the Matchmaker in the first place. Gwen needed some inspiration, something to show her how to get through to the Matchmaker...and herself. There were less than three months until the next Ceremony of Moons.
Chapter Two
“I really need your opinion on the dress,” Gwen begged.
“I already saw the picture, and told you it’s pretty. But I don’t think it’s right for you.” Savannah tilted her head to the side stubbornly.
She and Gwen were more like close friends than just colleagues. Gwen valued her opinions. They had been working together at the Coalition translating Spanish, French and German for two years. Gwen knew quite a few other languages, just not as fluently.
“I’ll try on the other dresses first then,” Gwen said, leading Savannah into the bridal shop, and then pushing her toward the sofa while she hurried down a wall of white fluff, grabbing two dresses in her size at random. She threw them over her arm unceremoniously. However, she knew exactly where her dress was, and she carried it gingerly by the hanger to the dressing room. Savannah frowned apprehensively as Gwen passed her with an armful of white taffeta, lace, and satin.
“OK. Here’s the princess dress,” Gwen announced after a few moments and stepped out of the dressing room. Her face was less than enthusiastic. The ruffled fabric swallowed her short frame and blew her up, fluffing her out in all of the wrong places.
“OK. I admit,” Savannah began, suppressing a smile, “that one is too much.”
“It’s only five hundred.” Gwen looked down and frowned at the gown.
“I was talking about the ruffles. You look like the State Puff Marshmallow Woman.”
Gwen just shook her head and pushed the enormous dress back into the dressing room. Next, she tried on a simple strapless A-line dress.
“That’s nice.” Savannah indicated for her to turn around.
“I feel like it’s going to fall down any minute.” She pulled uncomfortably at the top, adjusting herself in it. “Or worse: I could step on the front and then all my business would be hanging out.”
“OK. Go try on yours,” Savannah said dismissively as she sat back and crossed her arms.
A moment later, Gwen emerged from the dressing room beaming like a debutante at her cotillion. The broad strapped, slightly off-the-shoulder A-line dress was embroidered with a constellation of sequins and an inverted V-shaped front that complimented Gwen’s every curve. Savannah gasped.
“I was wrong and you were right.” Her friend admitted agreeably. “I wasn’t sure it would look right on your frame, but it looks great.” Savannah stood and spun Gwen around, admiring the dress. “Just a hem and pull up the straps a little and you’re good to go.”
“I know. But this one’s seven hundred dollars,” Gwen whispered emphatically.
“So. It’s your wedding day.” Her tone was dismissive.
“I’ll wait.” Gwen sighed and gathered up the train, turning to go back into the dressing room.
“Wait. Why?” Her friend threw up her hands in exasperation.
“You know,” she answered as she closed the door.
“The Matchmaker again?”
“Yes, I just don’t want to buy anything more and we have to postpone the wedding. That’s a lot of money to have hanging in my closet indefinitely,” she lamented from behind the closed door.
Savannah plopped back down on the sofa and crossed her long legs, showing a little bare ankle beneath her black silk pant leg.
“Oh, Gwen, I have more than that hanging in my closet right now…with the tags still on them.”
“You need to stop shopping so much. You’ll never wear all those clothes,” Gwen called from the dressing room.
“You want to bet?” The other woman challenged.
Gwen sighed as she opened the door and stepped out of the dressing room with the dress over her arm. She gazed longingly at it.
“Don’t worry. Half of it goes to the Coalition charity.” Savannah told her, taking her attention from the dress.
“You’re going to go broke.” Gwen let out a frustrated breath and hung the dress on the rack outside the dressing room, fingering the sequins on her dress.
“By then I’ll have a husband to pay the bills so I can use my money to shop. So then I’ll never be broke.”
“You know you’re wrong for that.” She told Savannah, raising her eyebrows.
“What?” Savannah feigned innocence, but could not subdue the sparkle in her green eyes.
Gwen rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse from the dressing room bench. She straightened her red, tweed blazer and finger-combed her short, black curls from her forehead while looking in the dressing room mirror.
“Stop spending so much.” She scolded absently.
“Honestly Gwen. What else am I going to do with the money?”
“I don’t know. Something else…How about a vacation somewhere?” Empty handed and discouraged, Gwen headed for the door, waving off a sales person.
“I travel for work.” Savannah stood and frowned as she followed her out the bridal shop.
“OK…um. Savannah, I can’t think right now.”
Gwen stopped abruptly outside the bridal shop. She looked up at the three-story ceiling of the shopping pavilion that seemed to move and change overhead with the help of a hidden light machine. The ceiling now resembled a brilliantly clear blue sky. If only her path to the altar was that clear. She could not even buy the dress she wanted because she did not know when she would wear it. But that was only a part of her worries. Her conversation with the Matchmaker had left her with doubts. She thought shopping would clear her mind, but it had not.
“If you’re not going to argue properly, then don’t try to argue me down,” Savannah answered lightly, trying to raise Gwen’s mood.
“Sorry.” She smiled distractedly at her friend.
“OK. So I win. Let’s go find something for me.” Gwen gave her a warning look. “It’s for the rehearsal dinner,” Savannah declared quickly. “I don’t have anything silver to match your colors.”
“Oh, no. I forgot to change the date for the rehearsal dinner. Dammit, I have to go through my entire wedding book.” Gwen pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “I’m going to need your help.”
She started walking toward the “Cloak” room as the pavilion called it to get her coat. It was amazing the extra expenses that people could come up with to get the most money out of shoppers. Then again, no one told her to shop in the upscale part of town or check her coat either. Half her wedding plans had been made on this side of DuSable City, and more than half of them would have to be changed...today.
“OK. Who are you calling?”
“Elliot’s mom. Can you call my mom and ask her if she can be at my house by three?”
“What’s the hurry?”
“My five-hundred-dollar deposit. If they’re booked for the date I need, I’m S.O.L.”
Savannah pulled out her mobile phone and hurried after Gwen as she speed-walked through the shopping pavilion.
“S.O.L.?”
“Irene-ism.”
“Oh.” Savannah grinned, understanding. “You and your mom are two little potty mouths. I learn something new everyday.”
***
“When my mom and Mim get here, you can’t mention that I talked to the Matchmaker at all, OK?” Gwen confided as they stood in her kitchen, preparing snacks for Irene and Elliot’s mom.
“Wait. Does Elliot know you went to see the Matchmaker?” Savannah asked suspiciously.
“No. The Matchmaker told me that somebody else is between us.” She answered in a measured voice. “And the thing is, I’ve been through every relationship in college and before I met Elliot. I wouldn’t give any of those guys the time of day now!” Gwen continued. “And most of them…eww! What was I thinking?”
“Well, maybe it’s Elliot. Did you ask her if it was him instead of you?” Savannah asked encouragingly.
“No. She made it very clear that it was me.” She stabbed at a chicken sandwich as she cut it into smaller bites.
“That chicken didn’t do anything to you,” Savannah said, giving Gwen a concerned look.
“Oh, I just don’t know what to do.” Gwen sighed and laid her knife aside.
“Do you think she’ll take it back? I mean, once you tell her that you’ve gone through every relationship you’ve had…did she tell you anyone in particular?”
“No. Hmm. I guess I’ll just have to go back and see her.” She chewed the inside of her lip thoughtfully. “If they can tell all that from a handshake, she can tell me who the hell’s got my chaka.”
“Do you mean chakra?” Her friend asked as she paused with her knife posed over a piece of bread.
“Yeah, chakra. That’s what I meant,” Gwen agreed dismissively. At work, one slip of the tongue and she could be out of a job. That was rule number one: pronunciation. A slight accent on the wrong syllable could start a war. “Do you know about chakras?” She asked, suddenly confused.
“Just a little bit.” Savannah shrugged. “It’s connected to yoga. Releasing your energy and balancing your body. I have a book on it.”
“You mean it’s not some Monacurian-only concept?” Gwen asked thoughtfully.
“Well, yoga is an ancient art of peace in body and mind. The Monacurians claim they have conquered, melded, and improved on both.” She laughed skeptically. “So I guess it’s something that transcends worlds.”
“How do you know so much about it?” She asked Savannah.
“You know I got the book from that guy who told me my height was a clear sign that we should be together.” She rolled her eyes, amused.
Gwen laughed in spite of her mood. She was once again grateful for their friendship.
“I’m serious.” Savannah stopped slicing sandwiches and put her hand on her hip. “He was the one who told me all about that chakra stuff and how he could...bring out certain sensations through different points on my body to elevate my mind. It’s all in the book. I’ll bring it to work Monday.” She abruptly turned back to cutting the sandwiches.
“He was a weirdo, I admit. But he wasn’t far off on the elevating my mind part. We’re all just a bunch of chemical impulses, energies, and potential. But I’m probably saying it all wrong. I’ll give you the book Monday,” Savannah told her casually, but a mischievous smile passed her lips.
Chemical impulses. The Matchmaker told her that everything Monacurians needed to know about each other was through their body’s chemical essence and touch. The Matchmaker had Gwen nervous and wound so tight she thought she would break down any minute. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. There had to be another way around this Matchmaker. The doorbell rang.
Ten minutes later, Gwen moved around the small living room. The furniture was limited to one navy sofa and two side chairs. The room shared space with the dining room set for four and two multi-shelved display towers. She maneuvered around the towers, not even noticing the small tokens that she and Elliot had collected over their courtship. There were things they had chosen together on the way to a marriage that probably now would never happen. She continued smiling at everyone even though she felt like crying and screaming, “It’s not fair!”
“Mim, are you sure you don’t want me to make something special for you,” Gwen inquired. “I was in a hurry and…”
“Don’t worry about it, Love. Honestly, I’ll eat whatever you have. I’m not picky. Stop trying to impress me. You already have my heart.” Mim Vista Rosser smiled up at Gwen. Her husky, yet feminine voice was soothing. She was heavy-limbed like her son, but without his stature. She barely reached his chin. However, on her, the weight looked shapely, wrapped in her attractive red-brown skin.
Gwen smiled easily around Mim, but then it faltered. What would she think after she knew? She left Mim’s side and refilled Savannah’s glass.
“Anybody need anything else? There’s plenty.” She offered brightly as she set down the pitcher of tea on the dining room table near the plate of sandwiches.
“I’m fine,” Savannah replied, spying at her over the rim of her tea glass. Gwen ignored the look.
“I have everything I need. So, what’s the big news?” Mim asked.
“Gwen, I know that fake smile. What happened?” Irene Tolliver stated bluntly. Gwen’s mom was five-five with smooth olive-complexioned skin and dark, almost black, expressive eyes. Gwen had gotten her brown eyes from her father.
“Mama, it’s no big deal…Well, Elliot said it wasn’t.” She found herself floundering with words as she had whenever Irene had questioned her about wrong doings as a child.
“Gwendolyn.” Irene interrupted sternly. Mim looked between them, concern evident in her face.
“The Matchmaker didn’t give us her blessing last Saturday,” she announced at last, glad to have it out, but apprehensive about what reaction it would elicit.
“Why?” Irene blurted out. She looked at Gwen as if she knew it was her daughter’s fault.
How does she know? Gwen wondered frantically. She looked to Savannah for help, but her friend just sipped her drink silently.
“I guess she has her reasons,” Gwen responded slowly turning back to her mother.
“Mim, does this happen a lot?” Irene turned to her future in-law. Her jaw clicked audibly. Gwen could tell that her mother was trying very hard to be civil.
“Well, frequently enough to be normal,” Mim answered politely. “But you two can stand before her again in three months,” she continued encouragingly, smiling up at Gwen who almost felt comforted until her mother opened her mouth again.
“Three months.” Irene’s already lined mouth, creased in annoyance. “So you can still go ahead with your plans, right?”
“Not exactly,” her daughter began.
“Oh, no,” Mim interjected. “The Matchmaker’s blessing is a must. No Monacurian is allowed to marry without it.”
“So?” Irene scoffed dismissively.
“So,” Gwen almost yelled to stop whatever inappropriate thing was about to come out of her mother’s mouth. “I called you all here to help me make some adjustments to my schedule. I don’t even know where to start.”
“I know where to start…” Irene began again.
“Great!” Gwen grabbed her wedding planner book and dropped it into Irene’s lap. “Here’s my book.”
Irene glared at her daughter, but snapped her mouth shut as she aggressively flipped open the cover. Gwen smiled apologetically at Mim. She smiled back politely. Mim was no fool; she knew tensions would abate just as long as the fires were not stoked. The woman reminded Gwen of the genteel women she had read about in the historical novels she read in English class.
Irene was not an exact opposite of Mim; after all, she was the one who had instilled strict manners in Gwen. Still, Irene could be a little coarse at time—like the present. Irene was relaxed around family, like now, which meant she did not need false politeness. If you could not be yourself around family, then you were not really family. If Mim was anyone else other than her future mother-in-law, Gwen would not have cared, but rumors of mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws fighting like ancient enemies made her more than cautious. She just smiled and sat down for the task at hand.
Two and a half hours and fourteen calls later, everything that needed rearranging was done. Irene left in a slightly better mood with Savannah in tow, laughing as she walked out with her. Mim seemed to take longer putting on her coat; and when Gwen walked her to the door, she stood and turned to face her future daughter-in-law.
“Gwen,” she began softly. “Don’t be discouraged. Elliot’s grandparents had to go before the Matchmaker three times before they got their blessing to wed. So when you go before her again, my advice is to just think of Elliot. Don’t think about if the Matchmaker is going to approve or what wedding plans you’ll have to fix if she doesn’t. Just think of Elliot, and she will give you your blessing.”
Gwen only nodded as a lump started in her throat.
“Good, take care, Love. We’ll see you soon.” Mim pressed her hands into Gwen’s. She immediately felt encouraged by the older woman’s touch. Maybe that was all she really needed to do when they faced the Matchmaker again: Think of Elliot. She smiled. But just then, she felt the comfort in Mim’s touch lessen.
“Here, let’s get your gloves on,” Gwen said, suddenly slipping her hands out of Mim’s. “The temperature’s dropped out there now that it’s dark.”
Once Mim was gone, Gwen stood with her back pressed against the closed door. She squeezed her eyes shut. Apprehension filled her. She was sure Mim felt something in her. Was it the same thing the Matchmaker felt: that her chakra was split?
The door bumped against her back.
“Gwen?” Elliot’s voice came through the crack. She stepped away from the door and opened it wider.
“Sorry.” She gave him a smile and a peck on the cheek before heading for the kitchen. “You hungry? There are some left over sandwiches.”
“Sure,” Elliot agreed, locking the door and then taking off his coat. “I ran into my mom downstairs.”
“Yeah, she was helping me with some wedding plan changes I had to make.”
“So I heard,” Elliot called from the living room. Gwen came in and set a plate of sandwiches on the breakfast bar.
“Come here,” he urged, smiling up at her from the armchair.
“Why?” Gwen asked suspiciously.
“I want to give you a massage.”
“Why?” She could not help asking.
“Gwen. What’s wrong with you? You just looked stressed.”
“Oh.” Taking a breath, she walked slowly over to him.
“Come here, sweetheart.” He motioned for her to sit. She sat on the ottoman in front of him with her back to the armchair and reluctantly let Elliot rub her shoulders. His hands were a little cool from being outside, but they soon warmed as he caressed her. Soon the apprehension left her. Elliot could always relax her. His hands moved up under her hair. His fingers gently massaged the base of her head and neck.
“You’re still worried about the Matchmaker,” Elliot said gently. Gwen pulled away and turned an angry eye on him.
“What are you doing?” She demanded. Her face turned pale.
“Sweet…”
“No, what are you doing? When were you going to tell me, Elliot?”
“Tell you what?” He asked, confused. His smooth brow creased.
“That you could read my mind,” she said seriously.
Elliot cut short a laugh when he saw the serious look on her face. “Gwen, what are you talking about? Who told you that?”
“You can, can’t you?” Gwen jumped to her feet and faced him, purposely avoiding his question. “Through your hands.”
Elliot sat back and sighed. “I explained this to you, Gwen. It’s not mind reading. I don’t know who told you we could read minds. I can feel changes in your chemistry. That’s all. Besides we were just talking about the wedding. I only assumed you were still stressed about the ceremony. We’ve been together long enough for me to know when you’re not yourself. You know that about me too. You can sense my moods. And when I touch you…”
He sat forward and reached up to caress her wrists, running his fingertips around them. Gwen’s face flushed.
“You can sense what I’m feeling too, can’t you,” Elliot whispered, smiling charmingly.
“Uh-huh.” She closed her eyes as she felt her tension leave her.
“I have no secrets from you, Gwen. I don’t want any secrets between us.” He stood, pulling her into his embrace. Gwen’s eyes warmed with tears behind her closed eyelids. But she knew she could not tell him she had been to see the Matchmaker already.
“I can’t hide my feelings from you.” He continued, tracing his lips against her cheek. “Why do you want to hide from me? I’m going to be your husband.”
“I know but…” Gwen’s voice trailed off as his hands moved under her sweater.
“What?” He prodded softly, leaning his mouth against her neck. She could smell his soap-cleansed scent with a hint of his natural musk.
“Never mind.” Her heart raced. She wanted his touch, but what if he felt…She tried to pull away.
“Please don’t shut me out, Gwen. I love you.”
“What if she says no again?” Her voice cracked as she opened her tear-filled eyes to look up at him.
“She won’t say no.” He paused, looking soberly into her eyes. She felt his calm seeping into her.
“What if she does?”
“She won’t.” His violet eyes softened as he reassured her.
“She said no this time. Why do you think she did, Elliot?” She stood waiting nervously for his reply. He looked thoughtful for a moment. She averted her eyes and shifted in his embrace.
“Marriage is a big step for both of us. Maybe she felt how nervous you were…like now.”
Gwen pulled away from him, but he held on to her hand. She could not look at him.
“Weren’t you nervous too, then?” She asked, still not looking at him.
“I was excited. But then, I knew what to expect. You didn’t.” Elliot cupped her chin, turning her to face him.
“What if it was for some other reason?” She asked cautiously. There was no way she could raise her eyes to meet his—not now when she could not tell him the truth about visiting the Matchmaker.
“Stop worrying so much. Next time you’ll be calmer and things will go a lot smoother. You’ll see.”
Elliot hugged her to him, brushing his fingers lightly across her slightly exposed back. Gwen immediately felt calmer. His hugs always did that. She was a slave to how other people could make her feel—even when she did not want them to. She knew it was one of her faults, but right now she did not care. With Elliot’s arms around her, she could almost believe he was right.
Chapter Three
Tuesday evening after work, Gwen headed back to the brownstone district to see the Matchmaker. She had spent the previous night speed-reading through the book Savannah lent her. She did not understand half of what she read. Skimming the text did not help her understand any better either. The book was useless to her. None of what she did understand seemed to have anything to do with love and connecting with only one person. Any reference to love was all about feeling “spiritual love” with the “universe” or something. She just wanted to love one person. She did love only one person: Elliot. Gwen did not understand chakras or the Monacurians’ connection with them. But the Matchmaker needed to understand Human love because that was all Gwen had to give Elliot. He believed it was enough. She would make the Matchmaker understand that it was enough—split chakra or not.
The woman immediately refused to see her.
“I’m sorry, but I need to talk to her.” Gwen forced her way pass the apprentice and up the stairs.
“Wait!” The young woman yelled after her.
“It’s all right, Carmelita Memme Planer.” The Matchmaker appeared at the top of the stairs, baring Gwen’s path. She stood imposingly above her. The Monacurian’s violet glare was not welcoming. Her robe of choice was such a deep blue that it looked black. The picture of intimidation was completed by the tightly wound bun at the back of her head. Gwen hesitated in the face of the Matchmaker’s authority.
“Look... Ms.… Matchmaker,” Gwen began awkwardly, and slowly regaining her confidence. “I know things are different with Monacurians, but you’re dealing in the Human world and Earth, OK? So I don’t need any mysterious or scientific explanations from you. I can’t think of anyone that I could still have a chakra for or even anyone I want to even think about now. So you have to take back your announcement.” Gwen finished breathlessly. The Matchmaker looked at her a moment. There was no hint of change in the woman’s glare when she replied,
“No.” She turned her back and stepped into the room nearest the top stair. Gwen started slightly at the finality of her deep, accented voice. Recovering quickly, she followed the woman, angrily stomping up the stairs.
“Then we’ll get married anyway.” Gwen challenged, speaking to the woman’s back as she entered the room where she and the Matchmaker had spoken on her last visit. The room was dark and uninviting. The sole lamp seemed dimmer, throwing everything in the room into shadow. It was as if the room itself was giving her an ominous announcement of its own. Gwen forced herself to keep her eyes on the Monacurian’s still back.
“I know that will not happen,” the Matchmaker sneered without turning around. “No Monacurian will go against my announcement. And you, Girl, will have to get used to it if you plan to join with any Monacurian family.”
“We’ll elope or something,” Gwen threatened childishly. She knew it sounded dumb the moment it passed her lips. The Matchmaker turned and smiled sympathetically at her.
“You have to respect Monacurian tradition–all of it–if you truly love Elliot Polis Rosser.” Gwen did not like the flippant way the Matchmaker said, “love.” It was almost as if she did not believe they loved each other–or could love each other.
“I do love him,” Gwen protested, exasperated. She suddenly sagged onto a nearby stool, slapping her bag onto her lap and pushing back her brown, wool hat. “What should I do then, because I know my heart and it belongs to Elliot,” she assured her, looking up at the Matchmaker imploringly. The Matchmaker sighed, and her stern expression seemed to soften as she stepped around the stool, leaving the room without saying anything else to her.
There was not much else Gwen could say either. She did not know how to put into words what she felt about Elliot or how he made her feel. She did not think anyone could. As she sat alone in the nearly dark room, she thought of all the poems she had been forced to read in high school English. The ones about love that she understood were beautiful, but she had never really got what the author meant. The words on the page never conveyed to her the full experience of its author. As a linguist, she knew many words in many languages that could say “I love you,” but not any that could really express it...not like it was felt anyway. The Matchmaker should have felt that love when she touched their hands at the ceremony—even through the nervousness and excitement. If that was the Matchmaker’s talent, she should have known right away.
Gwen sat in the warm, glowing room wondering what to do. She felt that there was no one else for her but Elliot. She had no secret crushes, not even the celebrity kind. Closing her eyes, she took a breath before pulling her hat back into place. She would just have to wait three months. Everything had already been rearranged. At the next Ceremony of Moons, she would just think of Elliot and only Elliot like Mim told her. As she stood up, she almost bumped into Carmelita.
“Do you want to be shown who the person is?” Carmelita said quietly, glancing down the stairs. “The one you love also?”
“But how can you know? There is nobody else. I promise you,” Gwen insisted. Despite her struggle to remain tough and not let them know how much the Matchmaker’s announcement had affected her, she began to feel the tightness of a lump starting in her throat.
Carmelita answered in a low, sympathetic voice. “The Matchmaker can show your chakra’s path. But once you know, there are only two choices: Follow that chakra and gather it back or follow that chakra and make it whole.”
“I...” It was all too confusing. What Carmelita was telling her did not seem to match anything she read in the book the night before. Still, what could it hurt? “OK.” She agreed finally, nodding her assent.
Gwen felt awkward lying on the leather chaise. She felt like a shrink would come in at any moment and tell her she was crazy for wanting to marry a Monacurian anyway. But it had not been about anything else but the person Elliot was. Although Gwen knew right away that he was not from DuSable City by his accent, the fact that she could not immediately place it is what made her pause in the first place. She thought his pronunciation sounded like he was from somewhere in Southern Europe while at the same time sounding remarkably Asian. Elliot had been amazed that she picked up his accent when so few did. When she finally guessed that he was Monacurian, he was especially impressed since his violet eyes—which were a sure give away—were hidden behind sunglasses at the time. The fact that he was Monacurian neither drew her to him nor made her want to run away. Her curiosity about his accent overrode any immediate opinion she had on him being an alien. Gwen was a linguist. It was what she wanted to do for a living. She enjoyed it, relished it. It was her life…until she met Elliot.
Elliot was amazing. He was the most considerate, passionate person Gwen had met in her young life. He was all about the rights of Humans on New Earth, and helping them and Monacurians understand each other. Elliot took all kinds of Human Relations and Sociology classes along with several public relations courses. He and Gwen had been in Introduction to Public Relations together, but that was not where they met. They actually met officially at the Student Center. It was not love at first sight. It was more like awe at first sight. She had never met a Monacurian.
His features were exotic. It was the only word that came to Gwen’s mind. With his deep violet eyes and practically wrinkle-free face, he looked so different from anyone she had ever seen. He was about five-eleven and thick-limbed–like he worked hard every day. But in the whole time she had known him, the only exercise Elliot did was walk. She assumed at the time that his toned physique was because he was Monacurian, but later discovered that every Monacurian was as different as every Human.
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