The Underground Part 18

"It's nothing. They've died down," the Queen said, noticing Shayla size her up.

"What about that pet.i.tion that's circulating?" Shayla asked, and the Queen heard a nearly accusatory tone.

"What are you talking about?" the Queen said.

"The one to end castration. C'mon mother, it's just me here," Shayla said.

"Yes, yes, I know about that. It's a pet.i.tion that n.o.body wants to sign with their real names," the Queen said. "My dear, someday you will learn about the many people with no backbones. You think this is the first time this idea has surfaced? You wouldn't remember the last time because you were just a little girl. They petered out then and they will peter out now, too. Mark my words," the Queen said. If this movement of people didn't fizzle on its own, she'd have to stomp it out herself.

"h.e.l.lo, my love," Michael said to Shayla as she walked in the door of his apartment. She used all of her effort not to turn away and allowed him to kiss her on the lips.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Michael, we need to talk," she said.

"Okay. We can talk over dinner. I've made a reservation at..."

"I want to talk to you here," she said, sitting down across from him, the kitchen island between them.

"Okay, take off your jacket at least and have a gla.s.s of wine," he said. Shayla set her summer sweater on the island, beside her purse. She had hoped to ease into it, but she knew he loved her in a way she could never reciprocate, and it gave her a feeling of urgency.

"Michael," she said, but couldn't say more. She knew she was going to break his heart which was never her intention. She looked down at her own hands against the backdrop of the seash.o.r.e colored granite countertop that was his canvas for many beautiful meals he'd served her. She remembered watching him knead bread and pour wine and try his absolute best to make everything perfect. He'd done nothing wrong. He didn't deserve this, but she needed to be true to herself.

"What is it?" he asked studying her carefully and trying to read what she was about to say.

"I can't marry you."

"What are you talking about?" he asked skeptically, his eyes stuck open wide in wonder, his mouth contorted in disbelief.

"I can't marry you," she said, shaking her head back and forth as the tears began to fall. She sniffled and willed the tears to stay at bay, at least for now.

"I can't marry you," she said again. No matter how many times she rehea.r.s.ed, it didn't matter. It couldn't be sugar-coated in any context that would make sense to him.

"You proposed. We're getting married!" he said, taking her hands roughly in his and squeezing them all together, as though that made it certain to happen. She pulled her hands away as gently as possible.

"No. We aren't," she said, gathering her composure. "I care for you and never meant to hurt you, but I know what I want to feel when I get married, and I don't feel that with you. I wish I did. I thought I did. I tried. I'm so sorry."

"Please Shayla. Give it more time. I love you." A tear escaped his eye.

"It's not meant to be," she said.

"That's it. The end?" he said, a tint of anger in his voice.

She stood and turned to leave, wishing she could be fairer to him. He was an innocent in all this. He let go of her, and she grabbed her things and hurried out the door.

"What on earth is the matter with you?!" It was the unmistakable crow of her mother on the other end of the phone, tearing into her without even h.e.l.lo. Shayla looked at the clock, and saw it was 1:30 in the morning.

"I'm sleeping," Shayla said, feeling groggy.

"Well, wake up! I just got a long distraught email from Michael saying that you proposed and that you two were engaged, which was news to me, and now you broke off that engagement for no apparent reason. What the h.e.l.l is going on with you? How could you do that? He was perfect for you!" the Queen yelled.

It seemed as if her mother cared more for Michael than Shayla.

"Can we please talk about this tomorrow?" The att.i.tude didn't surprise her, but she didn't think it was necessary to talk about this in the middle of the night.

"I'd like to talk about it now," her mother said. Shayla sighed. As much as she wanted to click the phone closed and pretend this was a small part of a bad dream that would be gone by morning, she might as well let her mother go on. To finish with this inevitable lashing meant she was one step closer to a normal life with Nathaniel.

"I broke up with him, but it's not because I don't care about him. I absolutely do, certainly a lot more than you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Queen said.

"It means that I broke off the engagement to be fair. I just don't love Michael. I thought I did, but I really don't. Sure, he's sweet," she said as her voice trailed quietly.

Her mother said, "And good looking and loving and trustworthy and from a good family and smart and kind and a great cook and a perfect gentleman! What more do you want?! What more could any woman want?!"

"It's not your business. This was between me and Michael and I'm not going to discuss this with you," Shayla said.

"It became my business when he sent me this long email," the Queen growled.

"I'm sorry about that," Shayla said, her voice growing calm. "I really am, but I don't want to live my life with someone I don't love. Something is missing. Can't you understand that?"

"You're just scared. It's perfectly natural," she said dismissively. "The two of you glow together. I don't want you to make a decision you'll regret."

"Mother, that's precisely why I broke up with him."

"You know, I really don't see that. I just don't understand you, Shayla."

Chapter 30.

Office of the Queen's Royal Spouse, Sir Edward Smith, II My Dear Shayla, Congratulations on your engagement. I'm sorry I can't meet your future husband. I have no doubt that you've chosen well.

Before you marry, I thought you should know more about your lineage, from my side of the family. As I write this, you are too young to understand, but I gave you Reminder of Truth and trust you have read it and kept it from your mother, as I instructed.

It is a special book in its own right, but even more important for you to know about. Your grandfather, Edward the first, is the author. He could not stand by and watch the injustices that your mother, and prior generations endorsed. He did more than just write that seminal book. He started an organization that you may, or may not, know about. By the time you read this, it may be disbanded or it may be ruling the country. It is called the Underground. You should be proud that your bloodline founded it.

I am weak and my time is short on this planet, but wherever I am, my love will always be with you and I hope your life is beautiful, full of peace and joy. Even at the age of 10, I can already see your gifts, and know you will go onto do great things.

Much love, Father As Shayla refolded the letter, the creases well-worn, and replaced it inside the velvet bag along with Reminder of Truth, she was grateful to have it. She felt sad that her father would never meet Nathaniel, but she knew he would have approved of her choice.

She was unsure how she could make Nathaniel her husband, but she was going to figure it out no matter what. They'd be photographed when things went public, and at the very least Janice would surely call the Webavision in a drunken rage to claim that the Queen's daughter had stolen her fiancee.

Then again, who would the Webavision believe? The Queen's daughter, or a wretched drunk.

"I'm so happy that we're going to be together, We'll actually be able to live together. No more hiding," he continued, as he hugged her.

"Do we have to talk about that right now?" she said, sounding a little grumpy. "I'm trying to enjoy today," she said, looking into his eyes, pulling him close, forcing his arms to wrap around her. He held her tightly, inhaling her vanilla scent that he had missed when they were apart.

"I am enjoying today, but I'm thinking about our future, too," he said, caressing her arm. "I can see us married with children," he said, feeling happy at the thought until her body tensed.

"I'm just not sure," she said.

"Not sure about what?" he asked, feeling uneasy. Was she not sure she wanted to marry him? Not sure about their love? One way or another, he needed to marry, and while it would kill him not to be with Shayla, he had to protect himself, ultimately. He turned to face her so he could look into her eyes. It reaffirmed his knowledge that she loved him deeply. He saw it, even with her wariness in talking about the future.

"I'm sure about you, Nathaniel, but..."

"But, what?!," he said. His heart pulsed quickly, from fear, not pa.s.sion. Isn't that why she broke up with Michael; so they could be together? He had spent his entire adult life worrying about castration, never-mind finding true love and fulfillment. Everything he wanted was in his arms. He refused to let it slip away again.

"Calm down!" she said, sitting up to face him. "You're an outlaw, Nathaniel. If they find you, they'll kill you. I'm the enemy. Can't you see that I am fully committed to you? I am. But that doesn't mean we can have a public relationship. As soon as there is talk of me marrying, there will be a lot of attention and photographs. People study those photographs. You've never been in the spotlight that way. I have been there most of my life. The press will dig into your background... your fictional background, and think about what they'd find, what would happen."

"I look different now. I'll grow my beard back. Dye my hair..."

"Nathaniel, you disappeared. Do you honestly think a little hair dye would make you unrecognizable to all the friends and family back in Cambridge? You can't afford that. And what about the Underground? You think they'll just look the other way? They'll want something," she said, exasperated.

"Shayla, I have to marry. You know that! What the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do? Put yourself in my shoes, here. I'm still in great danger of being castrated! If I don't marry you, then..." Nathaniel couldn't finish.

"For now, I'll keep you on as a temp. We'll go along the way we have been," she said. "But long term, I don't know."

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"What I'm saying is I don't know how to fix this," she said.

"I'm dating a wonderful man and I'd like you to meet him," Shayla asked, hoping her mother would realize that Michael was really out of the picture. She twirled the phone cord, nervously, and felt glad that her mother wasn't there to see.

"Who is he?" she said with a formality that Shayla recognized. It was the tone she fed to visiting diplomats and businessmen she didn't particularly like.

"His name is Joe Merino," Shayla said hesitantly. She still hadn't grown accustomed to thinking of him as Joe. He would always be Nathaniel to her. "I met him at Steelco. He's wonderfully sweet, completely charming and highly intelligent," Shayla said feeling proud.

"What does he do?" the Queen asked.

"Actually, he's working as a temporary worker, mostly as a meeting scribe at Steelco," Shayla said, hoping her mother would find that palatable, but knowing she probably wouldn't.

"A temporary worker? Where is he from?" the Queen asked. Shayla could picture her mother's face, matching her skeptical voice.

"Kansas City. Is that okay with you?" Shayla asked in an accusatory tone, feeling like she wanted to slam down the phone.

"Why do you always have to get snippy with me?" the Queen asked with a fake innocence.

"Because you are giving me the third degree," Shayla declared forcefully.

"Dear, I was just asking a few questions. Is that so awful? Look, I'd love to meet this man. I have dinner with the amba.s.sador of Cuba, who is visiting this evening, but I am free for lunch tomorrow."

"That sounds great," Shayla said before getting off the phone and turning to Nathaniel.

"Tomorrow, lunch, you will meet my mother," she said smiling.

"I can't wait," he said, rolling his eyes, before hugging her.

"Let's just take this one step at a time. It might not be so bad," Shayla said, taking comfort in Nathaniel's strong arms wrapped around her, his fingers still rough from years of hard labor. Would they ever be smooth? She hoped not. He had to change his ident.i.ty, but underneath it all, he was still the same man she fell in love with.

"I need you to do me a favor," she said to Gerald who she summoned as soon as she got off the phone.

"Yes, your majesty," he said, standing before her.

"I need you to look into a Mr. Joseph Merino. That's M-E-R-I-N-O. All I know is that he's from Kansas City, temping at Steelco and Shayla is smitten with him. Find out what you can, ASAP," she said, writing "Joe Merino" in block letters on a piece of paper that she ripped off and handed to him.

"Of course," he said.

"He's coming to lunch tomorrow. Shayla is dating him," she said, wearily. "Did you know?" she added, observing him keenly. While she trusted Gerald implicitly, so did Shayla. Perhaps she confided in him.

"I had no idea she was dating anyone, your majesty," he said, unhesitating, his eyes locked with hers.

"I'm not optimistic. I suppose this is a step up from that chap from the Cambridge Public Works, but she always seems to pick men beneath her," the Queen said, shaking her head. She was still bothered by Shayla dumping Michael, seemingly out of left field "Let's hope he's a good fit," Gerald said.

"She hardly knows him. I find her dating habits odd. She's all over the place. First with that laborer, then Michael, and now back down the ladder to a temporary worker?" she said to Gerald, shaking her head.

"Maybe she's finally getting ready to settle down. After all, she's 29," Gerald said.

"I think she's naive. No matter how many times I've tried to explain that people are out to take advantage of her, she doesn't pay attention," the Queen said, growing weary of Shayla's childish att.i.tudes.

"I promise to get right on this and get back to you later today," Gerald said before turning to leave.

"Gerald?" she asked, and he turned back toward her.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"What do you think?" she said.

"About what, exactly," he said, his face unreadable a as always.

"Shayla and her dating choices."