Page 46 of Wateredge

“Well, there’s climate change, so those glaciers are melting.” Lark gave Ceridwen a sideways glance, trying not to smile, but she failed when Ceridwen’s own bloomed.

“You’re funny. I didn’t realize it initially. You were so quiet. Strong and small and scared. You’re still small. And still scared, but you’re coming out of your shell beautifully. There’s nothing to fear here, Lark. I hope you know that. Nothing can touch you on Dragons. Not as long as the Crowharts are around.”

Ceridwen dropped that bomb on her, winked, and moved to a farther corner of the hothouse to bring in more greenery. When she returned, Lark tried not to look at her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered.

Ceridwen said nothing for a long while. When the silence stretched to the point of pain, Lark sniffed and looked up at her again.

“I will tell you if you ask me.”

“I won’t, Lark.” Ceridwen reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Big sisters don’t ask. You will tell me when you feel ready. When you feel like telling won’t make you puke in the stems’ bucket.”

Big sister.

Lark felt like she could have passed out from the words alone, from the emotion suddenly overwhelming her. Twelve weeks. She had been here three months, and she had never felt lost. Or like she were drifting away or apart. Not one day. After ten years on the run, she felt like maybe… Maybe…

“Speaking of Seren and women. Or well, of just women, I guess. You know, I never once felt that protecting my territory with a woman was necessary.” Ceridwen’s sudden change of subject made Lark’s eyes widen.

“I don’t believe you would ever have to be territorial about anyone, Ceri. Like, have you looked at yourself?”

Ceridwen winked at her before answering.

“Every day. Sometimes many times a day, depending on whether I have time to glance in the mirror. Vanity is a sin I am unrepentant for.”

“If I looked like you, I wouldn’t bother either. You’re always perfect. Why are you alone?”

Ceridwen watched in disbelief as Lark squinted her eyes shut before peeking at her through barely opened eyelids.

“I see that I may be wrong in my assessment of you being afraid still. I think the real Lark is not afraid of anything.” Ceridwen moved some of the flowers around, but her eyes stayed on her, the green in them blooming brighter under the light of the lamps.

“I prefer to be alone,” she added after a long silence.

“I keep my ear to the ground, but I haven’t heard a single word about you that isn’t about you being the best councilwoman, a leading businesswoman, professional this or that. I didn’t even know you were gay till a few minutes ago, when you said it was a woman you never had to fight for. Is the entire family queer?” Lark wondered suddenly.

“Some are bisexual or pansexual or lesbian, but yes. This generation turned out quite rainbowy. My grandmother was married to a man, buried him shortly after Mom and Victoria were born, and then lived her entire life with a woman, whom we all knew as Grammy. We loved her to bits, and she made my grandmother very happy. My mother was very sadly straight. Victoria is all things at once, and labels cannot encompass her.”

They shared a knowing smile.

“I am who I am, and I don’t appreciate labels either. I’ve dated men. I’ve dated women. I’m not attracted to gender, as much as to people. I guess that makes me pansexual, if I really had to settle on something. And it’s not entirely gratifying that the town thinks of me as chaste.”

“I mean, are they wrong?”

Ceridwen’s laughter was rueful.

“They’re not. Or not entirely. It’s a small town, Lark, and once you make the front page, it’s very difficult to get off it. My life is my own; what I show them is only what I choose to. The rest I keep to myself.”

“I got that much, hence my very inappropriate question about your absence of partner. Which still stands, by the way.”

“Oh, Seren will have her hands full with you.” Ceridwen elbowed her and kept working on the greenery in the standing arrangements.

“I wasn’t always alone. But then family became my main commitment, and I couldn’t offer her more. And she didn’t stick around to wait for that more either. The choices we make, Lark… The choices we make really do build us the cages we then have to live in.”

“So you made the choice, and she made hers. She didn’t stay with you?” Lark tried to phrase the question as softly as possible because Ceridwen’s face was drawn now, emotions rolling over, reflecting old pain. A deep, raw, unhealed pain that even time and age did not help scar over.

Instead of elaborating, Ceridwen just shook her head.

“It’s long past. And alone doesn’t have to mean lonely. I certainly haven’t been. The island is not the only place…” Ceridwen trailed off, and Lark gaped at her.