Free Carousel Seas by Sharon Lee

my head. “They must be sharper than your average—or even your average elevated—Ozali.”
    “There’s that,” she said, and gazed off into the trees, chewing her bottom lip, apparently deep in thought.
    That gave me a good chance to study her. My first impression of a significant, general improvement in her health and well-being had been spot-on. Mother was positively glowing.
    “Dancing at Midsummer Eve agrees with you,” I said.
    She looked into my face, an arrested expression on hers.
    “Certainly, it helped,” she said slowly. “But Midsummer Eve was only—the beginning.” She reached out and took my hand.
    “Katie, I’m . . .” She hesitated and then laughed, shaking her head. “When I was your age, I’d’ve said that I’m walking out with Andy.”
    I blinked, remembering the trenvay guitar player at Midsummer Eve, with his hot eyes, and the intense, low-voiced question: Are you home now?
    My mother’s grip softened, as if she thought I disapproved, but honestly, who was I to disapprove of anything that made her this happy?
    “You guys go ’way back, though, right?” I said, putting my free hand over hers.
    “Andy and I were good friends, and we might eventually have set up together, but your father arrived on the Beach, and he was . . .” She shook her head, and through the land I felt old sorrow, wryness, and a sort of wistful amusement.
    “Nathan was quite something: complex, moody, mysterious, exotic—everything Andy wasn’t. I must’ve inherited some of Father’s wanderlust, or I was just too young to value simplicity, straightforwardness, and constancy.”
    She squeezed my hand, and gave me an earnest look.
    “I don’t want you to think—I loved Nathan; and I loved Andy, too. It was just that . . . as I thought at the time, I loved Nathan more. Mother did ask me if I was certain, and of course the instant she asked, I was more determined than ever, though not more certain. Andy never asked me to stay, or pressed me . . .” She smiled.
    “So, I married Nathan, and went back with him to the Land of the Flowers where I had adventures enough to last me for the rest of my life, no matter how long it might be. All that in addition to the marvel who is my daughter.”
    “For whom you bartered your soul,” I said, my voice harsh in my own ears.
    “It was what I had,” Mother said simply, and squeezed my hand again. “I’d do it again, Katie. If it was needful.”
    There wasn’t really anything to say to that, so I glanced aside, a little embarrassed by the brightness of her eyes.
    “Are you angry with me, Katie?”
    I looked back to her face, startled. “Angry? How could I be angry ? I was horrified, frightened for you . . .”
    Nessa laughed.
    “Not about that!” she said gaily. “I meant about Andy.”
    I blinked.
    “Hell, no, I’m not angry about that, either! I wish you every happiness, Mother, and if Andy can give you that, then I’m all for him.”
    She laughed again and released my hand.
    “Well, he can’t give me every happiness, but . . . happiness enough, and sharing—and music, too!”
    “Then I can’t find any fault with the man,” I said stoutly. “He play anywhere else except private gigs and Midsummer Eve?”
    “He plays at all the places in town. Tonight, he’s playing at Jay’s—seven to one.”
    “Maybe Borgan and I can stop by after the park closes. It’s past time for me to find out what kind of music he likes.”
    “It’s going well with Borgan, then?”
    “Yes,” I said, hearing the conviction in my voice, and feeling it reflected back to me from the land. “I’m pretty sure he’s not simple, or straightforward. To hear him tell it, though, he’s as constant as the tide.”
    “He would say so,” Mother pointed out. “Do you trust him, Katie?”
    “Yes,” I said, and the reflected truth of that damn’ near knocked me backward.
    My mother smiled.
    “You’ll do fine, then.”
    I smiled back at her.
    “That had better be a