Judith Tarr - Household Gods

“We’ve got our suitcases all ready to go,” Dawn said as she left the kitchen to make the rounds of the rest of the house. “Unless you’d rather we stayed for a little while? Will you be all right by yourself?”

Nicole glanced automatically at Frank. His expression was distinctly sour, but he nodded. They were both trying very hard to be decent about things.

“I appreciate that,” Nicole said. She surprised herself: she meant it. “I will be okay, I think. If I start to feel rocky, do you mind if I call you?”

“No, not at all,” Dawn said. “Not in the slightest. Here, let me put our number up by the phone, why don’t I? Kimberley, you see this number? If your mommy starts to feel sick and can’t dial the phone, you call it, all right?”

Kimberley looked as if she wanted to burst out crying, but was too big a girl now to succumb to the urge. She held her head up high and nodded.

Nicole hugged her again — any excuse for a hug — and said, “I don’t think you’ll need to do that, honeybunch. I feel fine.” And she did. She felt wonderful. That wasn’t the whole of it, or even a tenth part, but it was as true as that she stood, at last, in her house in West Hills.

Frank eyed her a little oddly — hoping she was right, afraid she was wrong, she supposed — but then he said, “Okay. We’ll finish packing up, then. It won’t take long.”

Frank was efficient — efficient to a fault sometimes, as in the way he’d dumped her. She wasn’t at all sorry to see him and Dawn out of her bedroom, her house, and, for that matter and however temporarily, her life.

The children hugged and kissed them both good-bye. Frank was their father; Nicole could hardly mind that they seemed sorry to see him go. But it was as much as she could do to keep a smile on her face while they did the same to Dawn. For all her good intentions, she couldn’t help wondering which of those two would be the first to trade the other in for a new model.

Meow, she thought. But it felt good. It felt — cathartic. Yes.

Then, at long last and yet also a bit soon, they were done. Nicole was alone in the house with her kids. She caught herself looking around for Julia, to ask her to lend a hand.

It amazed her how much she missed Julia. Not just the helping hand. The company; the alliance against the world; even, to an extent, the friendship.

“This is funny, Mommy,” Kimberley said from waist level, where she’d been since Nicole came into the house. “We’re not home with you in the daytime very much.”

“You aren’t, are you?” Nicole said. They were at daycare during the week and at Frank’s on the weekends. She’d had to stop and remember that, after so much time inhabiting the body of a widow who worked out of her own home. She was going to miss some of that. Having the kids so close, day and night, weekdays and weekends. Not having to commute.

She hugged Kimberley yet again, and Justin for good measure. Kimberley grinned at her, with Justin half a beat behind, as he always was. “Monday we go to Woodcrest,” Kimberley said. “I can’t wait. It’s way cool, Mommy!”

So much for Josefina. Nicole thought.

“Tomorrow!” Justin said emphatically.

Kimberley rolled her eyes and put on an elaborate give-me-strength expression. “No, Justin. Not tomorrow. Monday.”

She knew the days of the week; Justin didn’t. Anything that was going to happen in the future would happen tomorrow, as far as he was concerned.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the world really worked that way?

But then, from the perspective of eighteen centuries ago, everything in this century really was tomorrow. Somewhat bemused by the thought, Nicole wandered into the bedroom, with the children tagging after her. There was a lingering strangeness in the place: a hint of Dawn’s perfume and Frank’s aftershave. She’d crank the air conditioning in a minute, and blow it all away.

But first, there was a thing she had to do. She looked toward the night-stand. Yes, there it was: the plaque dedicated to Liber and Libera. It was the one Brigomarus had given her in Carnuntum. She recognized the ding in the upper right corner, and the tilt of Libera’s head toward her consort. Even worn and stained by all the centuries, it was unmistakably the same.

That same wearing and staining made her shiver a bit. So much time had passed. Every human being she’d known in that other world was centuries dead. Their city was a ruin or an archeological dig, their lives the concern of scholars. Regular people, people like Nicole herself, never gave them a moment’s thought.

She brushed a finger across the carven faces. She was almost afraid to feel the brush of tiny lips, the shock of electricity as they woke, but they remained cool, stony, still. She’d get a bottle of wine later, so she could properly thank them for sending her home again. I may even taste some, she thought. I really may.

Frank and Dawn had put fresh sheets on the bed, for which Nicole was duly grateful. They were the beige ones that had been a wedding present — from one of Frank’s cousins, who was a beige-sheet person if Nicole had ever seen one. She stripped them off and dumped them over Kimberley and Justin. The kids giggled madly. “I’m a ghost!” Kimberley declared.

“Ghost!” Justin agreed heartily.

While they ran around flapping and booing at one another, Nicole remade the bed with a vivid ocean print. The kids liked it. They abandoned their game to help put on the new bedclothes. Between the two of them, they were about as much help as a cat.

While the sheets Frank and Dawn had used were in the dryer, and while the kids were occupied with a stack of coloring books, Nicole put in a call to the office. Cyndi was almost as glad to hear from her as she’d been the day before. “I’ve got your check here, Ms. Gunther-Perrin,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do with it while you were, uh, out. “

“ ‘Out’ is right,” Nicole said. “Save it for me, why don’t you? I’m calling from home; I expect to be back Monday, to start getting out from under whatever’s waiting for me. Doctor wants to see me next week, but nobody’s going to keep me from doing what needs doing.”

“That’s all good news,” Cyndi said, and she sounded as if she meant it. “I’ll be glad to see you then, Ms. Gunther-Perrin.” She hadn’t had to say that. It made Nicole feel good that she had. It was nice, no, more than nice, to be appreciated.

The day went smoothly, no fights, no annoying phone calls, just the quiet pleasure of a day at home with her own — her very own — two kids. They didn’t mind being grabbed and hugged at random intervals, and they certainly didn’t mind that she had the time or the stamina to sit and play with them by the hour.

In the late afternoon, after Justin’s nap, Kimberley cracked. She’d been too good for too long. She started teasing him, teasing and teasing, determined to keep at it till she had him in a screaming tantrum.

“Knock it off,” Nicole said sharply. Kimberley obeyed for a minute, but most of the way through the second minute, she was at it again.

“I said,” Nicole said more pointedly, “knock. It. Off.”

Kimberley kept right on going — with a glance at Nicole that invited Nicole to do something about it. Nicole was delighted to oblige. She was beside her in two long strides. Before Kimberley knew what was happening, Nicole had swatted her on the fanny.

It wasn’t anywhere near as hard a whack as she’d often had to administer to Lucius — he’d required a wallop just to get his attention. It wasn’t even hard enough to make Kimberley cry. She stared, open-mouthed, too astonished to say a word.