Affianced
by Durandir


1

~

We found my car waiting where I'd left it, in the driveway of the Hermitage,
when the *Gaia* had come to shuttle me to Mendellia for Operation Arrakis. When
I saw where Thayer was headed, I raced to beat him to the driver's side door.

"No you don't, Thayer!" I called. "I'll drive us home."

"You?" He glanced back at me, looking genuinely surprised but also a bit
sheepish. "I thought you didn't care for driving."

"Well, no, it's not my favorite pastime," I said. "But there's something about
one's own car--having to sit while someone else drives you around in it is just
plain painful. 'Sides, you flew us here. It's my turn."

"You're sure?" He doesn't like sitting while someone else drives him around,
even when it's not his own car, I know.

"Thayer. Which of us has the Indiana driver's license?"

"Point." He grinned and tossed me my car keys. "All right, you drive. You'll
want these."

"Sneak!" I giggled. "When did you--" He didn't answer, just kissed me quick
before darting around to the other side of the car.

~

We were silent at first as I drove away from the Hermitage onto morning-quiet
country roads, but by the time we reached Highway 46, nervousness was making us
both talkative.

I gave in to the urge to discuss strategy. "Maybe its best if we don't tell them
all at once--you know, it might be a bit much to take in. If they just get to
know you first, and *then* we mention the bit about being the Catholic king of a
small tropical island that is very, very far away from the bride's mother who
will already be worried just at not seeing me for a few *weeks*. . . ."

"That's easy for you to say; you already know me," Thayer pointed out. "What if
they don't like me enough before you spring all those details on them to
maintain a good opinion after you do so?"

"Who wouldn't like you?" I grinned. "What's not to like?"

"I thank you for your vote of confidence," he said dryly, "but I think I'd best
consider that a biased opinion. Of your affection I've no doubt. Of them . . .
."

"They'll like you," I assured him. "Once they get over the shock."

"Is it so very shocking?"

"Well, you know, it's not every day one of their daughters announces her
impending marriage to the ruler of a nation."

"I suppose not."

"Ordinarily she'd at least have made some mention earlier that she was *dating*
said ruler." I winced at the thought of that. I'd often wished I *could* tell
them, during the year that I wore the Queen's Ring on its chain instead of on my
finger, but I couldn't find a way to explain Thayer without bringing Terra Group
into the story.

Now Sci had given us an incredibly precious engagement gift: a way to tell that
story without saying things I mustn't.

Thayer watched me for a while. "Will they understand why you couldn't speak
before?" he asked at last, gently.

"I hope so."

~

Before we got too far from Terre Haute to get a signal for the cell phone, I
called home.

"Becki?" Mom's voice answered. "Are you okay? We haven't heard from you--"

"I'm fine, Mom," I said. "On my way home."

"Is everything all right? Where have you been?"

"Well, I . . ." Thayer smiled reassurances and I pressed on. "It's kind of a
long story. I'll be home in an hour or so--probably won't make it in time for
church, but we-- I'll come in late." I grimaced at the almost-slip there, but
Mom didn't seem to have noticed. "I'll explain everything after service."

"Okay, honey. See you then. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom. Bye."

~

"Are you sure they'll like me?" Thayer asked as we turned onto Highway 159.

"Well, I don't really think that they'll disapprove of you. You pass all the
tests."

"What?"

"Tests. The Suitability-to-Marry-Our-Daughter tests. First, of course, the Faith
of Our Fathers test."

He chuckled at that. "Yes, of course. So you think they'll agree with you that,
being Catholic, I pass that test?"

"They will. Once they know you, they'll agree."

"That's surely not the only test, though?" Thayer asked.

"Oh, no. Next there's the Mental Stability test. You pass that, no problem."

"Mental Stability?" He laughed long at that.

"Well, my parents worry if a guy seems at all on shaky ground, you know,
emotionally. My sister had some pretty weird boyfriends in high school."

"Your sister? Hadn't you any such?"

"Oh, no. I had weird boyfriends in junior high." He chuckled, and I explained.
"Of course there probably weren't any other kind, at that age. But once I
reached high school I got too picky to really date. Until I met you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." I grinned. "But then, it's not like you and I've dated all that
much either. It was how many days after we met that you asked me to marry you?"

"What was the point in waiting?" he grinned. "No, don't answer that. We were
right to wait. Foolish, perhaps, but right."

"Yeah. For one thing, without that year of waiting we probably wouldn't pass the
Test of Time."

"That would be the test normally failed by suitors who propose after less than a
week?"

"Precisely."

~

2

~

We reached my hometown with some fifteen minutes remaining in the morning church
service. Feeling abruptly nervous at the sight of all the cars parked outside
the building, I proposed a tour of the town before we would face the church. "It
won't take more than ten minutes," I explained. Thayer--he who thinks of
hometowns in terms of Mendel City--looked dubious.

Eight minutes later, as we pulled into the church parking lot, he looked
confused. "That's all of the town?"

"All that's worth seeing." I'd shown him my old high school, our old house from
before the parsonage was built, the parsonage itself of course, the IGA, the
Dollar General. That was about it. "What do you expect? It's a town of
twenty-three hundred. The High Palace could probably house the entire
community."

"Except that it takes more than ten minutes for a tour of the High Palace."

Church was over a few minutes early, apparently; cars were already pulling out
of the parking lot, and the bussed-in kids were already congregating around the
church vans. In my absence, my parents' car was parked in the spot I usually
took when Mom and I drove to Sunday school; so I parked behind it. I couldn't
bring myself to leave the car at first, till Thayer reached over and squeezed my
hand.

I smiled up at him. "Okay. Here goes."

~

We didn't have any trouble as we made our way through the folks leaving church.
To those who asked, I introduced Thayer as "a friend" and tried to evade any
more specific questions.

Then, at the stairs leading up to the auditorium, we ran into my mother,
shrugging into her coat and preparing to head home. "Mom!" I greeted her with a
kiss on the cheek and then hooked an arm through her elbow. "Come with us. I
want to give Thayer a tour of the church."

"Thayer?" she asked, bewildered.

"Yeah. Mom, this is Thayer Atner. Thayer, my mother."

"At your service," Thayer said, and to my relief he held himself to only the
slightest of bows; I don't know how Mom would have reacted if he'd used the
full-scale Mendellian gesture--or, good grace, if he'd kissed her hand as he did
when first introduced to *me*. "It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Bush."

"Thank you," Mom managed, smiling the way she does when she's between flattered
and embarrassed, though at the moment there was also a heavy dose of "confused"
in it. "Nice to meet you too. Becki? I didn't know you were bringing--"

"Ah . . . no," I said with a nervous grin. "It's a long story. Come on, walk
with us. I'll explain soon."

~

I don't know why I decided so suddenly to drag Mom along while I showed Thayer
the building; we probably would have done better to make that tour by ourselves.
But her presence certainly made things interesting. We started out in the church
basement with its labyrinthine layout, alternating between me pointing out this
room and that, and Thayer making polite conversation with my mother, and my
mother tactfully probing to figure out just who he was and what he was doing
here. She latched onto the accent immediately. "Where are you from, Thayer?"

"Mendellia," he smiled proudly.

"Mendellia? Where is that? I can never keep names like that straight."

"Oh," he said, "it's a rather small country, an island in the Pacific."

She looked at him more oddly than ever after that, and it was several minutes
before she took up her questioning again.

~

We finished the tour in the auditorium. Thayer was glancing around the room, and
I was getting ready to point out to him my chair next to the piano where I play
my flute on Sunday mornings during the worship service, when Mom said, seemingly
out of nowhere, "So how long have you two been together?"

We both turned to look at her in alarm at first, and then Thayer flashed a grin
at me as if to say, what were you so worried about? "We . . . I mean . . . How
did you know?" I asked, startled and feeling a blush beginning.

Mom smiled mischievously, that half-shy, half-proud smile that she has, her
never-underestimate-the-power-of-a-mother grin. "Well, for one thing," she said,
"you're holding hands." So we were--by reflex, I suppose; at least, I couldn't
remember when our hands had first met during that church tour. Now, instantly,
like children caught in the act of disobedience, we let go and stepped apart.

Mom looked disappointed and said, "Oh, no, it's not . . . You don't have to
stop. That's just how I knew that something was going on. I don't often see you
holding a boy's hand, Becki."

"Mom!" I blushed even deeper.

"But still, this is quite a surprise, you know," she continued. "How come you
haven't mentioned Thayer to us before? I know you were busy last semester with
teaching, but--"

"Well," I interrupted, "it's a long story."

"Very long," Thayer smiled. "But a tale worth hearing."

"Yes. I'll try to explain it all. Over lunch maybe?"

~

3

~

Lunch was to be chicken, marinated and grilled (Dad's specialty), and that's no
surprise: my family's abnormally fond of poultry, if you ask me. While we waited
for Dad to get home from locking up the church, I showed Thayer around our house
(and that was to the High Palace as my hometown is to Mendel City, of course, so
it didn't take long) and then introduced him to the feline contingent. Mia
decided that his was a suitable lap for catnapping. Coco-kitten decided that he
was a serious threat and valiantly attacked his feet--though, what with a lapful
of Mia, Thayer wasn't in much of a position to fight back. Pogo talked to him
for a while with her melodic meows, and then she decided that he wasn't going to
feed her and wandered off to find someone who would.

Then Dad arrived, and in mid-giggle I looked away from Coco's little war on
Mia's tail as it twitched across Thayer's knees, and with a bashful grin I
greeted my father. "Hi, Dad."

"Well," he answered, "Becki! When did you get home?"

"Just as church was letting out."

"She called just before Sunday school," Mom volunteered from the kitchen. "I
didn't get a chance to tell you earlier."

"Well, welcome home," he said, setting down his Bible and keys and coming over
to hug me.

That's when he first noticed Thayer sitting over in the family room just off the
dining area, surrounded by cats. Seeing my father's surprised expression, I
hurried to make introductions.

"Oh, um, Dad, I want you to meet someone," I said, pulling him along, while
Thayer quickly stood. Mia, suddenly dislodged from his lap, rolled to the floor,
gave a disgruntled cackling meow, and wandered off to find a quiet corner. Coco,
spooked by the sudden movements, darted behind the couch.

"This is Thayer," I said as he shook Dad's hand, bowing over it slightly so that
Dad looked ever more puzzled. "My, um . . . boyfriend."

~

That was an odd moment, you know. I'm pretty sure it was a meeting Dad hadn't
been expecting anytime in the near future--they'd truly had no sign from me that
I was involved in any sort of romantic relationship. Dad's face briefly showed
his astonishment, but he's a pastor and tact is part of the job description, so
a moment later he was chatting cheerfully with Thayer the way he does when he
meets a new visitor at church, and when he went out to the backyard to grill the
chicken, Thayer went with him.

In the meantime, I helped Mom finish up the rest of lunch. "So," she said as I
was setting the table, "where've you been? We didn't hear from you the past few
weekends and we were getting worried."

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry. It's . . . well, I'll explain as best I can. But
some of it I . . . I'm not at liberty to discuss."

She paused in seasoning the vegetables and gave me a funny look. "Are you in
some sort of trouble?"

"Oh, no, Mom," I laughed. "Nothing like that. Not exactly. I just . . . Wait
until everyone's here, and then I'll tell the story from the start, okay?"

Reluctantly, she let it be, quickly switching to another--perhaps more urgent,
for her--topic. "So, tell me about this Thayer."

"Well, you've met him," I grinned. "What'd you think of him?"

~

With your pardon, I'll interrupt the rather giggly girl-talk that now ensued
between my mother and me, to recount a parallel, yet naturally quite dissimilar,
discussion going on out at the grill. At least, as Thayer told it to me
afterwards, it was quite dissimilar. I doubt there would've been all that much
giggling, anyway, since neither he nor my father have ever struck me as the
giggly type.

Tactful though he might be, Dad could also be quite direct. Thayer recalls that
he'd barely wheeled the grill out of the garage before he launched into the
conversation, unknowingly echoing Mom's earlier inquiries, with "So how long
have you been dating my daughter?"

"A little over a year," said Thayer, "or just a few weeks, depending on what can
count as dating."

The look my father gave in answer to this, Thayer assures me, left him feeling
properly reprimanded for flippancy. (I suppose it didn't help the situation much
that my shrieks of laughter when he quoted the conversation to me must doubtless
have encouraged him in such glibness. But I could certainly identify with his
vague answer, vague as our year of "dating" had been.)

"How's that?" Dad dared to ask.

"Oh, we've not seen much of each other throughout the year, what with her
teaching and my . . . work."

"I see." Dad started laying out the chicken on the grill. "You know, we didn't
see as much of her as we'd have liked when she was teaching, either. But even
so, I'm surprised she never mentioned you to us. You've known her for a year
now?"

"About that," Thayer admitted as Dad layered on the barbecue sauce. "We met two
Novembers ago, when I was in Terre Haute on business."

"Oh," Dad said, "what is it that you do?"

Thayer, clever scoundrel that he is, simply informed my father that he was "in
government." I plead guilty to renewed shrieks of laughter.

~

Meanwhile, as Thayer continued to dodge any questions that really mattered and
keep Dad busy with questions of his own, about the church, the town, the family,
and so on, Mom and I managed somehow to get the rest of dinner ready in spite of
the frequent pauses in our work while I declaimed with animation on Thayer's
more admirable qualities. I suspect even Cicero would have seemed terse by
comparison to my oration on my beloved.

This pleasant rambling was cut short by the return of the menfolk with the
chicken, however, and we sat down to eat. Dad said his usual lengthy,
almost-forgetting-to-mention-the-food prayer over the meal. I had a moment's odd
feeling of displacement, thinking of the day soon when it would be Thayer
filling that office at our own family table. Or does a king have a courtier to
say Grace for him?

Not this king, I was certain.

My parents were, as usual, good hosts, even on our short notice. They've often
enough taken on that role in offering hospitality to the missionaries and fellow
pastors who visit and speak in our church. Mom, in most other settings a shy and
self-conscious woman, truly shines when playing hostess to such guests. She
easily led the conversation now, drawing anecdotes and opinions out of Thayer
with an ease that I, anxious about the diplomatic role of a queen, envied more
than ever.

He had already told her he was from Mendellia, and her wide-ranging curiosity
happily dwelt there, tactfully probing for all he would tell her of his
homeland. And, Thayer being not only a talented storyteller but the foremost of
Mendellian patriots, both knowledgeable and enthusiastic in his subject, this
made for conversation fascinating to us all.

But it also led to the inevitable question: "So Thayer," Mom asked, "what
brought you from Mendellia to Indiana?"

His eyes met mine. There was a sudden seriousness in them. I swallowed, then
nodded: time for the whole story.

"The same thing," he said, "that brought Becki to Mendellia, more or less."

My parents' forks froze in unison above their plates as his meaning sank in. I
had never really explained my brief absence and lack of communication with them
in the weeks of Project Boussh. I certainly had never mentioned my visits to
Mendellia.

Before they could ask, I got up and found my coat, fished through the pocket for
Sci's engagement gift.

Then I returned to the table, pushed my food aside, and sat down to begin
explanations.

It would have been easy enough, in retrospect, to just say, this is Thayer and
I'm going to marry him. The difficult questions, the ones that had prevented me
from speaking of him before or from wearing the ring, were the questions of how
we had met. The problem was explaining my presence in Mendellia without
mentioning Terra Group. That was where Sci's gift to us came in handy. I handed
the sealed envelope to Dad and waited while he opened it and read the documents
within.

Mom had followed my movements with a growing expression of alarm. As Dad began
to read, she asked me, "Becki, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I reassured her quickly. At least I hoped not. "It's just . . . the
letter explains things I could never tell you before."

"And another thing," she said, glancing from me to Thayer. "Just how serious are
you?" Her glance fell on the ring. "Is that what I think it is?"

I held my hand up so that I could see the red-and-purple of the Queen's Ring,
and Mom leaned in for a closer look as well. "Yes," I said at last. "More or
less. Well, sort of."

Mom looked confused, but Thayer reached in and took my hand, holding it by the
fingertips so that the ring was still in clear sight. "It's a sort of heirloom
of my family," he offered, "and it means more than an ordinary engagement ring.
But, yes, I have asked your daughter to be my -- bride."

"Becki!" Mom grabbed my other hand and squeezed happily, while Dad looked up
from his reading in surprise. "Why didn't you tell us before? How long have you
. . ."

"Over a year," I muttered.

"And you never told us! How did it happen?"

"That," I said, "is the long story." I waved a hand at Sci's letter by way of
explanation. Mom took the hint, leaned in to read it over Dad's shoulder. Thayer
and I waited, practically counting line-by-line as they perused the document; if
they didn't actually read it several times over, the length of our anxious wait
certainly made it seem so.

"So you see," I said as they finally looked up again, "that's why I couldn't
tell you before."

"Government business?" Dad glanced over the documents again in disbelief.

"But how did *you* end up a part of . . . of . . . And I don't understand what
it was they had you doing, either," Mom said.

"No," I said apologetically, "and that's just what I can't tell you. I'm sorry,
but . . ." I gestured towards the "Top Secret" label Sci had affixed to the
envelope.

"So," Dad said, "that time a year ago, when you were gone over Thanksgiving and
never really explained why. This is why? Government business, national security
. . ." Again, he glanced over the documents in disbelief.

"Yeah." National security, had Sci said? International security, more
accurately. Planetary security. But then that would have been even less
believable for my parents. I wondered again, as I had ever since Sci handed me
that envelope, just whom he'd gotten to sign it. Someone high in the American
government, he'd implied. Probably SACUL had been involved.

"It's . . . quite a surprise."

"Who would've thought?" Mom murmured.

"And what's this got to do with your getting married?" Dad asked.

"Oh," I grinned, and, following the line of Dad's glance, realized that Thayer's
hand and mine had met again, by reflex or whatever. This time we didn't let go.
"Well, as that letter establishes, I was in Mendellia two Novembers ago for . .
. reasons I'm not free to talk about. That's when Thayer and I met. I would have
told you sooner, but . . . Terra Group was top secret. Is. I couldn't figure out
how to tell you about Thayer without mentioning that, too."

Mom nodded, but looked disappointed. Dad glanced back at the letter, saying, "I
don't know which is more of a surprise: your engagement or this Terra Group. We
had no idea. . . ."

Those aren't the end of your surprises today, I thought guiltily. But I wasn't
ready yet to break the rest of the news. I had to be sure that my family truly
could accept Thayer on his own merits, aside from the issue of what the red and
purple of the ring on my finger really meant.

First I said, "I know this is a surprise and very sudden and all, but . . .
before we marry, we want to know that we have your blessing."

"You know that's not something we can decide very quickly," Dad said. "Thayer,
we've just met you. You seem like a nice young man--and I know Becki has good
judgment. But marriage is a very serious decision."

"Yes, sir," Thayer said. "And after the past year, if I may say so, I am very
glad to know that you think of it as such."

Dad looked a bit confused. *Oh, good heavens, Thayer*, I thought, *don't even
start with the ladies-in-waiting thing*.

But he didn't, and Dad went on. "Are you certain about what you're doing, both
of you?"

"Oh yes," I said.

"Without doubt, sir," said Thayer.