Marigold's Big Decision

Marigold watched her boyfriend Thule sleep. Even while sleeping, he
managed to look tired these days. Stripped to nothing but a pair of
shorts, he lay with on his back with one arm flung across his eyes. At
least he was coming back to the house to sleep now. For a while, he'd
been crashing in his dorm room on campus to avoid even the
twenty-minute drive from there to here.

He was getting a full six hours of sleep a night now, too. He'd
refused to sleep any longer than that since the attacks on New York
and Washington. He'd gone from being the silent owner of a security
firm to an active participant almost overnight. Coupled with the
rigorous class schedule and the trial he was testifying in, he had
little to no free time.

Marigold had tried to convince him to sleep more and take a less
active role in the business. But, Thule had an overdeveloped sense of
responsibility. A number of FBI agents had gotten themselves suspended
from the bureau for helping him investigate the Vandevoorts. When
Thule had managed to cash in on his notoriety over the case, he'd used
most of the money to start the company and hired most of the suspended
agents. Now, he considered the success of the business to be part and
parcel with his responsibility to do right by those first employees.
Marigold admired him immensely for his attitudes, but the work made
him so tired sometimes that she was afraid he was going to literally
work himself to death.

She'd tried to talk to him about it, but chosen her timing
particularly poorly. He'd gone to sleep one night as Marigold was
getting home from a study session. She'd made dinner, spent an hour
studying another subject, gotten ready for bed, and entered the
bedroom just as his alarm clock went off.

"Thule," she asked. "Are you getting up?"

Thule nodded, "I've got a ton of reading to do for physics and some
documents to look over for the current round of financing. Then, I
need to work out and eat before class."

"Thule, isn't there anything you can delegate?" Marigold asked. "You
can't keep up this pace."

Thule shook his head as if even that tiny bit of physical effort was
taxing. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep, "What am I supposed
to delegate, Little Flower? Nobody can study for me. Nobody can eat or
work out for me. And, I have to do due diligence on RSS's financing.
I'm the owner."

Marigold couldn't argue with any of the points he'd made. So, she
said, "I don't know, Thule. I just worry. I go to sleep, you're
working. I get up, you're working. I almost never see you..."

"I'm sorry, Marigold," he said quietly. "I know I'm ignoring you. I'll
make it up to you soon."

The idea that he would give up what little sleep he was getting to
spend time with her alarmed Marigold, "Thule, I don't want you to make
it up to me." She smiled at him, "Come back to bed, just for a couple
of hours."

Thule scowled at her, "I can't, Marigold. I told you I would be busy
this year. Why can't you understand that?"

It had deteriorated from there. Thule had thought Marigold was
complaining that he didn't spend more time with her. Marigold didn't
realize that he thought that. He kept promising to make it up to her.
She kept telling him not to. He took that to mean that she wanted his
attention right now. He'd come as close to storming out as Marigold
had ever seen him. Instead, he left calmly, saying that he could think
better at the library. Marigold had gone to bed in tears, more afraid
than ever that Thule wasn't going to get the sleep he needed to
survive.

That had been the last serious conversation they'd had. The next day,
Marigold had seen him working far into the night on the financing
agreement and painfully regretted the time she'd cost him the night
before, arguing.

After that, she'd started spending more time away from the house. She
loved Thule and wanted to spend time with him, but was horribly afraid
that he would sleep less if she were there, wanting to spend time with
her. Worse, part of her wanted him to and she was afraid that she
wouldn't be able to reign in that desire.

Up until that point, she'd been slow to make friends at school. She
didn't really have a lot of experience making friends at all. Most of
her "friends" throughout high school has been people with whom she was
more interested in currying favor than actually bonding. The two
people she really considered friends were Dawn and Thule and it wasn't
like Harvard had a "people like Dawn and Thule" club. 

Plenty of people had made overtures to her. More correctly, plenty of
men had made overtures. Once she made it clear that she wasn't
interested in jumping into bed with them, many of them went away.

Still, she had made a few friends or, at least, protofriends. She made
a conscious decision to spend more time with them. The opportunity
arose next when she was in the offices of the chemistry department.

"Hey, Goldie," said Alan Hall. It wasn't a nickname she particularly
liked, but she'd never bothered to object to it. "What brings you to
our dusty, little neck of the woods?"

Marigold smiled, "I'm here to see Dr. Cordero. I didn't understand
some of his lecture points in Organic Chem today and was looking for
some extra help."

Alan smiled back. As she'd been several times before, she was keenly
aware of how startlingly handsome he was, "Dr. Cordero isn't in, but
maybe we can help with your problem."

Marigold hesitated. Alan had made it clear that his interest in her
went beyond friendship. But, unlike other guys who had done so, had
continued to be friendly and easygoing with her when she'd made clear
that she did not return his interest.

This time, she brushed away her hesitation and let Alan and the other
students in the chemistry department help her. She discovered that not
everyone who was spending time in the department's offices necessarily
worked there. Most of the people taking chemistry at Harvard wanted to
be doctors either for the prestige or because of a legacy of doctors
in their family. The people who hung around the chemistry department
either didn't want to be doctors or didn't fit in with their
classmates. Somehow, Marigold found a place with them. Sitting in the
chemistry offices, she'd had her first serious college-level debate on
the subject of livestock and antibiotics and discovered herself
completely unable to hold up her end of the debate. It had taken
several such debates for her to feel comfortable arguing strenuously.

Not wanting to appear the intellectual lightweight that she was
starting to be afraid she might actually be, she'd chosen her battle,
waiting for her moment and brought up a subject on which she'd done
her research: genetically-altered food.

She'd felt good about the discussion. Even though everyone else in the
room disagreed with her, she held her own well, making point and
counterpoint. She might have won too if Dr. Anton hadn't chosen that
particular day to make an appearance.

"Dr. Anton," said Eric Volmeyer. "Welcome back. How was Soweto?"

"Very trying," said Dr. Anton. "I do not know where the pro-starvation
protestors get the stamina needed to convince so many people that they
can eat pretty words."

"Maybe you could ask Marigold," offered Jennifer Wickman. For some
reason, Jennifer had taken an immediate disliking to Marigold when
they'd first met. "She was just explaining why she disagrees with your
work."

To Dr. Anton's credit, he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he shook
his head and retired to his office. It was Marigold who pursued the
subject.

Coming into his office, she said, "Dr. Anton, I was wondering if I
could ask you a couple of questions. I'm not one of your students,
but..."

He smiled, "Seeing as how I have no students, that's something of a
certainty. You're the young woman who was arguing against genetically
modified food. Marigold, was it?"

"Yes, sir," said Marigold.

"Did you come to argue with me today?"

"No, sir."

"A pity," he said. "Would you like to?"

"I beg your pardon," said Marigold.

"You may or may not know this," he said. "But, I am one of the world's
foremost authorities on genetically modified food. As such, I've been
trying to write a book about them for the general market. But, since I
am such an authority, no one wants to argue with me about it. As a
result, I have to guess at what people are thinking. Would you like to
argue with me about it?"

"I don't think I can," said Marigold. "I'm not really qualified..."

He indicated a stack of photocopies on one of his shelves, "That is a
copy of the source material I've gathered for the book. If you read
it, you would be qualified to be my devil's advocate."

Marigold looked at the stack, "That's quite a lot of reading. I've
already got a lot on my plate."

Dr. Anton fixed her with a stare, "Marigold, do you want the Harvard
experience?"

"Yes," she said automatically. She'd heard the phrase so many times
that she didn't need to think about it.

"This is the Harvard experience," he said. "Become an expert on
something and argue about it with leaders in the field. I'm going to
Iowa for two weeks. When I get back, I'm going to start working on my
book. I would like to have a devil's advocate to make my arguments
strong. Steel sharpens steel after all."

Marigold was unable to resist the challenge. For the next week, she
brought whichever article she was working her way through with her
wherever she went. By the weekend, she'd managed to clear away all of
her class-related work and focus on the denser, more scientific
articles. Some of the articles presumed knowledge that she didn't have
which led her to the library.

She was sitting in the library late Saturday night. Wearing her
reading glasses, she'd pinned her hair up rather than spend the time
fixing it. She was dressed in blue jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt. Not
that long ago, she'd sworn to herself that she would never wear
sweatshirts again, but amended that pledge soon afterwards to include
the words "out of body shame." This was strictly a matter of
convenience.

"Goldie," said a voice behind her. "You are the very model of a
Harvard woman tonight."

She smiled up at him, "Hey, Alan." Seeing that he was holding a pile
of books of his own, she added, "Why don't you pull up a chair before
you drop those?"

Alan put his pile down, splitting it neatly in half as it teetered
precariously.

"Big research paper?" he asked.

"Not exactly," said Marigold. "I'm just doing some research."

Alan picked up one of her books and glanced at the others, "Ah.
Genetics, agricultural engineering, and is that 'Murphy's Abstract on
Global Malnutrition?'"

Marigold nodded and yawned, "There's a lot of conflicting information
on malnutrition out there and I wanted to know what the real numbers
were. But, I don't understand some of these statistical methods."
 
Alan helped her with a lengthy explanation. He listened to her
questions and elaborated. He wasn't as good at it as Thule was, but
she hadn't wanted to bother Thule, who was finally getting some sleep
this weekend.

"Thanks," she said. "I think I've got it now."

"Goldie, you're not still fixated on that discussion of GM food. Are
you?" asked Alan. "I know Jenny was kind of hard on you, but..."

"I am, but it's not like that," said Marigold. "Dr. Anton asked me to
act as devil's advocate for his book on the subject."

"Really?" Alan raised an eyebrow. "He was complaining that he couldn't
find one. I offered to do so, but he said that I had the fervor of a
new convert and wasn't right for the role."

"I..." Marigold said.

"I'm glad you're doing it," said Alan. "It's going to be a very
important book."

After that, they'd talked more easily. Alan hadn't been present for
much of the previous discussion, so she hadn't realized that he was
one of Dr. Anton's research assistants. He spoke very fervently and
passionately about the need for genetically modified food to combat
famine.

When he made a particularly strident point, Marigold raised her hands,
laughing, "Maybe we shouldn't discuss this. I'm having a hard enough
time making the countercase as it is and you are a bad influence."

"A ha," said Alan. "I knew if I stuck around long enough, I would
manage to be a bad influence somewhere."

Marigold nodded, smiling, then yawned hugely, "I should really be
getting home for some sleep, but I'm all wound up now."

"I find that a cup of cocoa always helps," offered Alan. "Would you
like to get a cup of cocoa?"

"All right," said Marigold eying him warily. "But just one. I need to
make sure Thule isn't up all night staring at columns of figures
again."

"Thule?" asked Alan. "Not Thule Roemer?"

Marigold nodded, rising, "There aren't very many Thules. Are there?"

Alan rose more quickly, "I...uh. Listen, I should..." He tried to
smile, but it looked sickly, "I'll see you around. All right?"

"A..all right," said Marigold, thoroughly baffled at the abrupt
change.

                                     -=-

When she got home, Marigold found Thule in the residential wing. He
was awake, relaxed, and playing pool with Matika. He smiled when she
came in, "Ah, there you are. Did your studying go well?"

She came over and hugged him, "I think so. Did you sleep well?"

Thule nodded, "Six hours yesterday and six today. Plus, I have nothing
on my calendar until ten a.m. tomorrow."

Marigold saw the frown on Matika's face when Thule talked about
sleeping. If she read it right, the other woman was concerned about
Thule's sleep habits, too. Marigold noticed something else. Matika was
dressed in jeans and a yellow v-neck t-shirt, but very subtly made up
so that she looked pretty while looking like she'd done nothing at all
to get the effect. Of all the people in his life, only Jake spent more
time with Thule, but Matika certainly saw more of him than Marigold
herself did. Once again, Marigold found herself wondering if the
former agent had a crush on Thule. She was older, but not so much
older that it wasn't possible. Still, if she did, Marigold had never
seen any overt sign of it.

"Am I interrupting anything important?" Marigold asked.

Matika shook her head, "No. We were just killing time until I have to
leave for my plane which is..." She glanced at her wrist, "right about
now."

"Have a safe flight," said Thule. "And let me know what your
impression of Grycki is when you get back. I'm not sure I entirely
trust him."

"You've got it, boss," Matika said, smiling. Then, she left them
alone.

"I'm glad you're home," said Thule, hugging Marigold to his chest.
"It's been a while since we had more than fifteen minutes of free time
together. Are you free?"

"Of course," said Marigold returning the hug. "Do you know what a
scary individual you are, by the way?"

"Yes," said Thule. "But, hearing it never gets old."

Marigold laughed, "I was going to grab a cup of cocoa with a friend I
was studying with. When I mentioned you were my boyfriend, he ran away
so fast you would have thought you were there chasing him."

"And then you came home?" Thule asked. Marigold nodded.

"Then I'm glad I scared him," said Thule. "I've missed you."

"Missed me?" asked Marigold. "I'm here every day."

"I know," said Thule. "But, that's not what I meant."

Marigold nodded, "Ah. I understand. Did you want to retire to our
rooms or were you just going to ravish me here?"

Thule roared laughter, "That wasn't what I meant, either. Although, I
certainly have missed that, too." Hugging her again, he lifted her off
her feet, "And, now that you bring it up..." He continued the motion,
throwing her over his shoulder. Marigold squealed and pounded on his
back with her fists but not so hard that he actually might put her
down.

Flinging her on the bed, he climbed on after her. His hands found her
wrists, pinned them down, and consolidated them into one hand over her
head.

"Brute," she said, her voice a breathy whisper. "I told you that you
were scary."

Thule's free hand went under her sweatshirt, stroking her stomach.
Pushing away the material, he lowered his head and kissed her stomach.
Marigold squirmed, trying to get away, but Thule straddled her legs.

"Thule, stop..." she begged. "You're tickling me."

Thule stopped what he was doing and gave her a look of pure menace, "I
know."

"Thule..." she squealed as he resumed tickling her with kisses.
"Thule, wait. Wait. Wait."

He raised his head again, "Yes?"

Marigold searched for something she could say that would make the
tickling stop. Unable to think of anything, she asked, "Are you sure
you're up to this?"

She hadn't meant it the way he took it, but it got him to stop
tickling her. Before Marigold realized what was happened, Thule had
undone her pants, flipped her onto her belly, and shucked off her
jeans and underpants. Lying down so that the length of him was pressed
against her, he asked in her ear, "Does it feel like I'm up to this?"

Feeling his lust for her through the cloth of his pants, Marigold was
just as glad she was already lying down. Otherwise, she might have
gone into a swoon. Unable to come up with a more cogent answer, she
whimpered again.

Thule seemed to take it as an encouraging sign, stripping both of them
with silent efficiency. Keeping her pinned, he let his free hand roam
all over her body, coming to rest between her legs. As he stroked her,
he kissed the back of her head and neck. With her lungs compressed,
Marigold could do little more than pant.

Thule took his time, stroking and fondling Marigold, keeping her
pinned beneath him, letting her up every so often so she could take a
deep breath and make a little bit more noise. He kept that up until
she was trying to position herself so that he would slide into her,
begging him with her body to make love to her.

When he slid into her, Marigold let out an animal cry of pleasure.
With the long build-up, once he'd actually claimed her, Thule was
savage, pinning her with his hips, driving into her, possessing her
completely.

After he'd had his way with Marigold, Thule lay next to her on his
back, staring up at the ceiling. When his breathing had calmed, he
asked, "So, was I sufficiently up to it?"

"Mmmmmmmm," said Marigold, rolling towards him, kissing the underside
of his arm. "That was good."

"Only good?" asked Thule.

"Okay," said Marigold, chuckling. "It was blackmail good."

For a long time after that, they lay in bed, talking and catching up.
Marigold found that she was absurdly happy just to be with him. But,
he was up again a few hours later, getting ready for class. A minor
emergency at the office kept him busy the next few days and it was
more than a week before she saw him looking rested again.

That week brought something into sharp relief for Marigold. This year,
Thule would not have time for school, work, the trial, and a
relationship. But, he wouldn't accept it. He wouldn't give up any of
it. When the day proved too full, he would just not sleep.
Unfortunately, knowing this fact didn't give Marigold any answers how
to deal with it. She even considered leaving him for a couple of days.
But, the idea was physically painful. She knew that things would get
better after this year and wanted to be there for it. Besides, she
expected that Thule wouldn't let her go. Then, she would just end up
costing him even more sleep.

That week, she threw herself into her research, determined to impress
Dr. Anton, even if she didn't know why she wanted to. The material
he'd given her was all either in favor of GM food or of a scientific
nature and not addressing the moral issues. Now, she dug up the
protest literature. Halfway through the week, she went back to the
chemistry department before her first class. It was early and Alan was
alone in the office.

He gave her a half-smile when he saw her enter, "Good morning,
Marigold."

"Hi, Alan," she said. "Do you have a minute?"

Alan had been doing something on the computer when she entered, but he
turned away now, "Uh, sure. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could help me play devil's advocate?"

He got some of his old smile back, "Not afraid I'll be a bad
influence?"

Marigold smiled back, "I'll take my chances. I could really use some
help."

"Sure," he said. "Where are you stuck?"

"Well," said Marigold. "I'm trying to figure out where groups like
Greenpeace get their facts."

Alan laughed, "I'm afraid that I am a bad influence here, then. In my
opinion, they make them up."

Marigold frowned at him, "Come on. I'm serious. Where do they get
their facts?"

"I am serious," said Alan. "A lot of times, what happens is someone
makes up a fact or exaggerates a point to where it might as well be a
lie. Then, everybody repeats it, referring back to the original lie.
Once something has a footnote, it must be true."

"Isn't that a little simplistic?" asked Marigold.

"Maybe," said Alan. "But, there's truth behind it. The protest
industry trades in fear and good intentions. People are afraid of new
things. Most people, when you show them something new that we've
figured out how to do don't think about how it can make things better.
They think about every nightmare scenario, possible or not. The
protest industry capitalizes on that instinct. People don't do their
research before they protest. Have you ever heard of dihydromonoxide?"

Marigold broke the word down in her head, "It sounds like water."

"It is water," said Alan. "But, if you wrote up a petition to ban its
use in food production and went down to the commons, you would have a
thousand signatures by the end of the day. After all, chemicals in
food are bad."

"Dammit, Alan," said Marigold. "How am I supposed to argue against GM
food if everything the protestors say is just made up?"

"Whoa," said Alan, raising his hands. "I didn't say everything was
made up. But, the real issues aren't the sexy ones."

"So, what are the real issues?"

"Start with intellectual property," said Alan. "A lot of the companies
that make GM seeds patent the process by which they are modified. And,
in order to guarantee their profits, they modify the seeds so that the
plants which grow from them don't give viable seeds themselves. Also,
because famine and lawlessness often go hand in hand, a lot of these
plantings can go on outside of the realm of regulators. I also think
there are some good points in the argument that, in places like
Africa, there's always the danger that decisions will be made based on
the interest of the wealthy instead of the hungry."

"Okay," said Marigold. "So, I should attack it from those angles?"

"Yes," said Alan. "But, Marigold, you should attack it from the angles
where you know there are no facts, too."

Marigold furrowed her brow, "Why?"

"Because you're helping Dr. Anton write a book for the popular
market," said Alan. "If he doesn't address the fearmongering, people
are going to assume it's because he's got no good answers."

"Alan, why did you stop calling me Goldie?"

Alan didn't equivocate, "Because I'm afraid of your boyfriend."

"Thule?" asked Marigold. "I promise. He's not violent or jealous. He
wouldn't rip your arms off for buying me a cup of cocoa."

"He might," said Alan. "I'm a Vandevoort."

Marigold shook her head, "No you're not. Your last name is Hall."

"I know," said Alan. "But, my mother is a Vandevoort. My father's
mother is a Vandevoort. Most of my cousins are Vandevoorts. I'm here
on the Vandevoort Foundation scholarship."

"Oh," said Marigold. "Alan, that really doesn't matter--to him or me.
It's a big family. We know that not everyone is like Randy or Ivan.
Thule's right-hand woman is a Vandevoort cousin. He's even spoken
highly of Trina and she practically runs the family now."

"Really?" asked Alan. "That's better than my mother speaks of her,
then."

"So, we're okay, then?" Marigold asked.

"I don't know," said Alan. "I'm still not sure how I feel about Thule,
though. I mean, the media is having a field day with Uncle Ivan, but
he was never anything but nice to me. I wouldn't be at Harvard without
his help."

"I think if you met Thule, you would like him."

"Maybe," said Alan. "And that's one more reason I really would rather
not meet him. I don't want to like Thule Roemer."

"All right," said Marigold. "So, don't meet him. But, that doesn't
mean we can't be friends, does it?"

"No," said Alan. "You're right, of course."

"Great," said Marigold. "I've got a class from nine to ten thirty
today. Do you want to get breakfast after that?"

He smiled, "You've got it, Goldie."

                                     -=-

Things continued apace for the next few weeks. Thule and Marigold
stole time to be with each other. Sometimes, Thule sought her out.
Sometimes, she sought him. But, more often than not, she felt bad for
what even the little bits of time cost him.

She had her discussions with Dr. Anton, but it was truly a devil's
advocate position. She was a convert. She even started looking into
what classes she would have to take if she wanted to be a food
geneticist. She started hanging out more regularly with the chemistry
department irregulars as they called themselves. Besides being a
social circle, Marigold found that the group was giving her the tools
that she needed to think critically about issues that suddenly seemed
much more important.

Of course, they didn't give her the tools so much as demand that she
develop them. They argued about politics. They argued about science.
They argued about ethics. They argued about sexuality. They even
argued about religion. Marigold had thought her Bible studies with
Jonas to be intellectually rigorous. But, that had been two Christians
who presumed certain truths arguing analyzing the details. They
stumbled over religion by mistake. But, once they did, they raged back
and forth about it, hammer and tongs. Alan had been raised Christian,
but never really embraced it. In the wake of the attacks on New York
and Washington, he'd not only given up on religion all together, he
now had a working theory that religion was evil. Marigold argued
passionately against him, sometime going home furious at how stubborn
and wrong-headed he was.

Of course, Thule was an atheist too. But, his atheism was far more
genteel. He always said that he didn't "get" religion, but that was as
far as it went.

As Dr. Anton continued working on his book, he would often ask
Marigold to come to his office and argue some point against him. Thule
teased her about these "dalliances," knowing full well that he was a
married man, a grandfather, and approaching sixty.

After one session, he said, "I do hope I can maintain the momentum
I've built up in the last few chapters. I don't suppose I could book
your time for a week and get you to argue the next six chapters in one
marathon session?"

Marigold laughed, "I think my professors might object. I'm afraid
we'll have to keep doing them a few hours at a time."

Dr. Anton frowned, "I would love to, but I'm headed back to Africa at
the end of the semester. I have a lot of work to do."

"Oh," said Marigold. "Well, maybe we can argue via e-mail."

Dr. Anton laughed, "As enjoyable as that might be, I'm going places
where there may not even be phones, much less e-mail."

"Oh," Marigold was crestfallen.

She was in for another blow. While meeting with the irregulars one
night, she heard Alan make a reference to taking some of his finals
early.

"Why are you taking your finals early?" Marigold asked.

Jennifer smiled at her, "Alan and I are going to Africa with Dr.
Anton. We're leaving on the Wednesday of finals week."

Marigold nodded and changed the subject. But, an idea was hatching in
her mind. She approached Dr. Anton with her idea.

"I do take students with me. They even get credit for their work,"
said Dr. Anton. "But, it would be unprecedented for a freshman to go."

"But, would you do it?"

He considered the question, "When I say 'unprecedented,' that's not
really my word. It's the administration's. It's usually a code word
for 'no.' I think you would make a good assistant, but you would have
to convince the administrators."

"All right," said Marigold.

It took her a few days to decide how much she wanted to do this. The
idea of being away from Thule for a whole semester seemed almost
unbearable. But, the trial was coming to a head and his company seemed
even busier than before. Still, she had been looking forward to
spending winter break with him. Finally, she called Jonas.

"I think I want to ask you a favor," she said. "But, I'm not sure if I
do."

"All right," said Jonas, uncertainty clear in his voice.

She poured out her heart to him. Originally, she'd meant to tell him
very selective facts, but she told him nearly everything, leaving out
only the details of her love life and any mention of Alan.

When she was finished, Jonas said, "I don't really like to use my
money to influence people in this way."

"I know," said Marigold. "If I could think of another way..."

"If this is what you really want to do," said Jonas. "I'll do whatever
I can to help."

"Thank you, Jonas," Marigold said. "It really is what I want to do."

And Jonas had made it happen. Within a week, she had permission to go
to Africa with Dr. Anton.

                                     -=-
                                     
That had been weeks ago. Since then, Marigold had told her professors,
told her friends, told Dawn, told her parents. In fact, she'd told
everyone but Thule. He'd been busy during those weeks, but she'd had
opportunities. She'd even found herself putting off necessary
preparations that would incur Thule's curiosity.

Tonight, she'd finally worked up her courage. She couldn't delay any
more. She sat on the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Thule's
chest. The room was dark except for moonlight streaming in the window.
She sat cross-legged and watched. Just a few more minutes and she
would wake him. Just a few more minutes.

As if he sensed her watching him, Thule stirred in his sleep. Drawing
his arm away from his eyes, he said, "Hey." His voice was heavy with
sleep.

"Thule," she said. "I need to tell you something."

Concern etched his features, "What is it?"

Marigold told him about her plans. She tried to keep it light and
stick to the points. But, as she talked about it, she found herself
crying. Thule clearly didn't understand why she was crying, but he
held her and listened.

"You're sure this is what you want to do?" Thule asked.

Marigold had been. Now, she wasn't sure. She shook her head, "Not
sure, no."

"I can't make this decision for you," Thule said.

Marigold laughed, a hint of bitterness creeping into it, "Yes, you
can. If you tell me not to go, I won't."

Thule lay there in the darkness, stroking her hair. Marigold found
herself hoping he was trying to find a way to tell her not to go.

But, when he spoke, he said, "I know how important it is to you that
you explore questions like what you want to do with your life." He
kissed her on top of the head, "If that means you're going to have to
go away, now would be the time to do it. You're barely going to see me
this year as it is."

Marigold nodded against his chest, tears burning hot in her eyes.

"But, Little Flower," he went on. "I want you back. This schedule
won't last forever. Next year, the trial will be over. The business
will be more stable. And, I will not be a freshman. When that happens,
I expect to sleep normal hours and spend time every day with you and
Dawn. That's my brass ring. That's what I keep my eyes on when I think
I can't keep this up. If you don't come back, I'm going to come to
Africa and get you."

Marigold smiled, hugging him tightly, "I'll come back, Thule. I
promise."

                                     -=-

The day approached. Fall passed into winter. Boston was covered in a
heavy blanket of snow. As the day approached, Marigold found each
moment she could share with Thule more precious. Those moments became
fewer and farther between. Thule always seemed to have a textbook, a
contract, or a deposition in front of him whenever she saw him.

Marigold took two of her finals a week in advance. She spent the week
preparing for them then Thursday and Friday taking them. She had two
finals Tuesday then was flying out to Africa on Wednesday. Thule
talked to her about her finals and preparations for the trip, becoming
almost solicitous in making sure that she had enough time to study and
pack. In hindsight, it should have been obvious what he was doing, but
Marigold never saw it coming.

Instead, she came home Friday after her final to find their living
room decorated for a traditional Christmas complete with a real, thick
spruce in the middle of the room. Gifts were piled high underneath it.
A fire crackled in the fireplace. Marigold was so stunned that she
took a minute to realize that Thule was sitting in a chair off to one
side and watching her reaction.

"Thule, what is this?" she asked.

Thule smiled, "I didn't think it was fair that we weren't going to
have Christmas together this year, so I decided to reschedule it."

Marigold looked around the room, "Thule, you can't reschedule
Christmas."

Thule glowered at her, but there was good humor behind it, "Shall we
take a vote on it?"

Marigold looked around the room, "I'm pretty sure it would be a tie."

Thule said, "Close your eyes."

Marigold did. Thule placed a ribbon over them, tying it in the back.

Marigold smiled, "Do you have a present for me?"

"Well," said Thule. "I would if it were Christmas. Shall we take a
vote?"

Marigold bit her lip, "Thule, that's so not fair."

Thule kissed the side of her neck, "Such is the nature of
participatory democracy."

Marigold shivered, but didn't speak.

"So," asked Thule. "Can I reschedule Christmas? Yea or nay?"

Marigold shook her head, "No, you can't." She said it with an air of
petulance to make it clear that she was looking forward to being
convinced.

"And I say I can," said Thule, laying his hands on her shoulders.

"See?" asked Marigold behind the blindfold. "A tie."

"I say he can too," said Dawn from the far side of the room.

Marigold pulled her blindfold off over her head, "Dawn?"

Dawn was already halfway across the room when Marigold's eyes focused.
She was dressed in a black dressing gown and a floppy, red "Santa hat"
complete with white trim, her hair still damp like she had just gotten
out of the shower. They met in a hug that turned into a passionate
kiss. When it broke, Marigold asked breathlessly, "Dawn, what are you
doing here?"

"Playing hooky," answered Dawn. Glancing at the wall clock, she said,
"Well, not anymore. Now, I'm spending the weekend with my girlfriend
and our boyfriend."

"The whole weekend?" asked Marigold. I thought you were going on a ski
trip with Scott this week."

"I'll be joining Scott on Monday," said Dawn. "Were you really going
to leave without seeing me?"

"Things were just so crazy," said Marigold. "I didn't see how I could
get down to Mannsborough. And you had..."

Dawn leaned down and kissed her, effectively stilling all protest.
When the kiss ended, Marigold turned to Thule to ask him a question,
but he leaned down and kissed her just as passionately. Marigold
looked from one to the other, her breathing already somewhat ragged.

"I'm in big trouble this weekend, aren't I?"

Dawn laughed. Thule smiled down at her, "If you're up to it, I think
it's time to decorate the tree."

Marigold looked around, "Decorate the tree? You guys didn't..."

Thule indicated a pile of boxes. Some were unopened packages of
spun-glass balls. A couple were packing crates with UPS stickers on
them.

"I...I'll just go get changed," said Marigold. "Then, we can
decorate."

She managed to get out of the room and nearly to her bedroom before
she was overcome with emotion. She sat on her bed crying, unable to
tell why.

When she emerged, she was wearing a white sweater and navy blue skirt.
She'd also reapplied her makeup. Thule and Dawn had just finished
unwrapping all of the shrink wrap from the Christmas balls. If they
noticed that she'd been crying, they gave no sign of it.

As they hung the first wave of decorations on the tree, quarters were
close enough that they both noticed she wasn't wearing anything under
the sweater or the skirt. Marigold had been unsure of whether or not
to dress like that. Christmas traditions had a certain childlike
innocence about them that she was afraid might be sullied by being too
adult about the holiday. She soon found that the gentle, almost
surreptitious touching they did while they decorated made her feel
more loved and cared for than she could have imagined. It might be a
week too early, but it was rapidly becoming the best Christmas ever.

Once all the balls were up, Marigold asked, "Is there a star?"

Thule grinned and indicated the UPS boxes, "I think it's in one of
those."

Marigold opened the topmost of the boxes and unwrapped one of the
newspaper-wrapped bundles inside at random. She recognized it
immediately. It was a ceramic Santa Claus she'd made in the sixth
grade.

"Thule," asked Marigold, knowing immediately who would have arranged
this sort of thing. "How ever did you..."

Thule chuckled, "Jonas and your mother are going to be in Hawaii for
Christmas. They're not decorating a tree at home. So, I asked if they
could send some decorations that would remind you of home."

Marigold nodded and put the ceramic Santa up near the top of the tree.
Each bundle revealed another ornament she'd made or been given as a
gift. There were more than a dozen in all. When she came to the last
one, her hands trembled picking it up. The newspaper wrapped around it
was yellow with age and displayed the date "January 18, 1986."

She didn't need to feel the shape of it to know what it was. Tears
filled her eyes. Thule looked concerned, "What is it, Little Flower?"

"This is the ornament my father gave me the year I was born. After my
mother married Jonas, I never hung it on the tree again. It just
didn't seem right."

Thule held her, "We don't have to..."

"No," said Marigold. "I never should have stopped hanging it in the
first place. I didn't...didn't understand things. But, it definitely
belongs on my tree now."

With trembling fingers, she undid the yellowed tape, lifted the tiny
brass saxophone from its wrapping, and placed it as high as she could
reach.

The star turned out not to have been in the shipping boxes after all.
Thule produced it after the last ornaments were hung, handing it to
Marigold.

"I think you should put it up," said Marigold, offering it to Thule.

Thule shook his head, "I will if you insist. But, there's not a big
tradition of Christmas trees in the Roemer family."

She offered it to the other side, "Dawn?"

Dawn raised her hands in protest, "The Cavendishes had Christmas
traditions, but none of them good. This is shaping up to be the first
good Christmas I've ever had."

Marigold stamped her foot impetuously, "All right, dammit. You made me
say it. I can't reach the top of the tree."

Thule laughed, caught her by the waist, and lifted her up so that she
could reach easily. For a moment, Marigold wanted to protest. It was
the sort of thing you did to a child, not a woman who'd reached her
full, but diminutive height. But, the moment passed and it felt right.
So, she placed the star.

                                     -=-

After that, they opened presents. The black robe Dawn was wearing
turned out to be a gift from Thule that he'd let her open early.

"I was stinky from the train ride and wanted a shower," explained
Dawn. "Only, I didn't think ahead and the robe I packed was, well,
comfortable would be a charitable description."

"It looks kind of...familiar," Marigold teased. In fact, it was the
same robe Thule had given her the morning after taking her virginity
but with a different design painted on it.

"I get them in bulk for my legions of girlfriends," Thule joked. When
Dawn hit him on the arm, he laughed, "Hey, what's the point in having
two beautiful women if I can't dress them up."

Marigold laughed, "You have been working hard if you've forgotten the
answer to that question."

Thule growled and kissed her, his hand sliding under the sweater,
pushing it up over her belly. Before it could go any further, Marigold
felt Dawn slap Thule's hand.

"Unwrap the presents now," she said with mock severity. "Unwrap
Marigold later."

When she looked back on their first Christmas together, Marigold
wouldn't be able to remember any of the gifts except one from Thule.
Opening a big, square box, she extracted a pith helmet.

"God," she said, holding it up. "I'm really going to Africa. Aren't
I?"

Thule nodded, "Looks like it."

"What was I thinking?"

Thule chuckled, "You were thinking that it would be a grand adventure
and that you might discover your life's work."

Marigold hugged them both, "I'm going to miss you guys so much."

Dawn laughed, "Marigold, you hardly ever see me as it is. You'll be
back before I move to Boston."

More solemnly, Thule added, "You hardly ever see me either. When you
come back, things will be better, more under control. This is the
right time to do this, Little Flower."

"I know all of that," said Marigold, not releasing them. "I'm still
going to miss both of you."

When they'd finished unwrapping the presents, Thule asked, "What do
you have to get done this weekend?"

"I'm mostly packed," said Marigold. "What isn't packed, I need to do
at the last minute. I should get some studying done for my literature
final, but that's three or four hours, tops. What about you, Thule?"

"I've got a meeting scheduled for Sunday afternoon," said Thule. "Four
hours, maybe a little bit more. I figured that you two could spend
some time without my prying eyes then."

"That's it?" asked Marigold. "The rest of the weekend is free?"

"Hey," said Thule. "It's Christmas. Nobody works on Christmas."

Marigold briefly considered the sleep he'd given up in the previous
week and what he would probably give up in the week to come. Firmly,
she dismissed her worry. Thule and Dawn obviously wanted to be here.
Marigold wanted them here. Thule was doing what he wanted and living
with the consequences. How could she be so petty as to do any less?
Besides, as he'd pointed out, it was Christmas.

In spite of the fact that they couldn't stop touching one another, it
seemed for a while like they would never go to bed. As it turned out,
they never did that night. They made it as far as a low pile of
pillows arrayed around the fireplace before Marigold realized that she
was being kissed and stroked everywhere and quite efficiently stripped
of what little clothing she'd put on.

Even once they were all naked, they spent a long time petting and
stroking, kissing and touching. As close as they were to the fire,
they were soon coated in a thin sheen of sweat. By firelight and
moonlight, the way they moved against each other became a visceral and
atavistic exercise. Marigold knew she was being claimed, completely
and utterly, long before Thule was inside of her.

When he did enter her, Marigold didn't cry out. It was no longer like
being taken. It was filling a void that should never have been empty.
Thule moving inside of her seemed natural and inevitable. Her nails
dug grooves in his back, but they were not the first she'd dug this
evening. The whole time, Dawn's hands and mouth never left her skin.

As exhausted as she was, she fought sleep as hard as she could, not
wanting the night to end. But, it overtook her nonetheless.

                                     -=-

Christmas morning (by Thule's decree,) Marigold woke in front of the
fireplace. Dawn had retrieved her silky, black robe at some point and
was now crouched next to the fire, adding wood. It had burned down
almost to embers.

When Dawn saw that Marigold was stirring, she smiled and said quietly,
"I thought we would let him sleep for a while. But, I don't want him
to get a chill."

Marigold nodded, rising and stretching. Dawn smiled at her, "I could
use a shower. How about you?"

"I thought you didn't like sharing the shower," Marigold said. "As I
recall, the last time I tried to join you in one, you threw a loofa at
me."

Dawn laughed, "Well, you scared me. Since then, I've had plenty of
time to get my fill of showering alone. Besides, I thought it would be
a good chance to spend some time together."

There was an innocent sensuality, Marigold thought, to the way she and
Dawn touched each other in the shower. It was a new experience to her.
Even during her relatively innocent summer dalliances with Maya, there
had been an anticipation. She may not have been entirely sure of what,
but there was a sense that it was leading to bigger things. Now, it
was just touch, comforting and reassuring without the concern that
something might or might not happen. That matter had been resolved.

"So," she asked. "Are you looking forward to spending the week with
Scott?"

"Yeah," said Dawn. "It looks like I'm really going to slut it up this
week."

"Oh, Dawn," said Marigold. "You shouldn't think of it that way."

Dawn gave her a reassuring smile, "I don't. Well, I do. But, I don't
care. I don't think that word means anything bad to me anymore."

"I guess," said Marigold doubtfully. "I just hate talking about it in
any way that makes it sound like I regret the turns my life has
taken."

Dawn pushed out her chin defiantly, "Well, I don't regret slutting it
up one bit. I know that I may one day, but I don't now and I'm not
going to start regretting it in advance because I might later. Do you
know what my plans are this week with Scott?"

"What?"

"Every year, Scott going to Mount Snow with his cousins and their
friends. They've been doing it since he was like ten. To hear Scott
tell it, he doesn't really have a good time because they pick on him
for being different and not being able to get a girlfriend. He wasn't
going to go this year. But, I talked him into it. He's up there now,
taking the abuse, probably even egging them on. Then, I'm going to
show up on Monday. And, I probably won't take my hands off him the
whole time I'm there."

"Dawn, you're shameless," said Marigold. But, she was laughing.

"I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of," Dawn said. There was
a challenge in her eye, "Do you?"

Marigold stopped laughing so that Dawn would know she took the
question seriously, "No. I don't. And, I'm not ashamed of anything
I've done either."

"In fact," said Dawn. "I'm rather proud of it. Scott is just about the
nicest guy on the planet and he deserves a little vindication."

"The nicest?" Marigold looked skeptical.

"Well, the nicest guy I've met," said Dawn. "Not that I've had a lot
of opportunities to meet nice guys considering where we grew up."

"What about Thule?" Marigold asked.

Dawn laughed so hard and abruptly that she inhaled water from the
shower and started to choke. When she was finally able to stop
coughing, she said, "Thule? Marigold, sweetie, Thule is one of the two
great loves of my life to date, but he's about as far from a nice guy
as you can get. Are you forgetting that he blackmailed you into
sleeping with him and handcuffed me to a weight bench?"

"Yeah," said Marigold. "But, that's in the past. I think he's settled
down now."

Dawn looked extremely doubtful, "Well, you see more of him than I do,
but I really doubt it. Everything I hear seems to indicate that he's
still a scoundrel."

"Well," said Marigold. "Maybe he is. But, he's very nice as scoundrels
go."

                                     -=-

Thule was still asleep when they passed through the living room. After
covering him with a blanket, they let him sleep and headed down to the
main kitchen for some breakfast.

"Matika," said Dawn, hugging the former agent fiercely.

"Dawn," said Matika. "Glad to see you made it out all right. Did you
three have a nice night?"

"You knew about this?" asked Marigold.

Matika smiled, "It took a lot of people to make this go off smoothly.
It did go off smoothly, didn't it?"

Dawn nodded, "You should have seen her face when she saw me. Not a
clue."

"Where's Thule?"

"Still sleeping," said Marigold.

"Good," said Matika. "He doesn't sleep enough."

"I know," said Marigold. She gave Matika the eye, "You all work him
too hard."

"Don't blame us," said Matika. "The most commonly spoken sentence at
RSS is, 'Thule, why don't you let me handle that.' But, he takes his
responsibilities very seriously." She glanced at Dawn and Marigold,
"I'm not saying he micromanages, mind you. He does focus on the
important stuff and seems to be making a life or death decision for
the firm practically every week."

"But?" Dawn asked.

"But, there are easily a hundred people at headquarters that have made
a living making life and death decisions. I just worry that he's
overdoing it. That's all."

"Me too," said Marigold. "I'm glad to see that there's going to be
somebody here that worries about that while I'm gone."

"Well," said Matika, laughing. "It's not like I'm going to be able to
make him sleep if he doesn't choose to."

"Don't worry," said Marigold earnestly. "I can't either. I tried.
Believe me. Between work, the trial, and this relationship, he's..."

"Wait a second," said Matika. "You're not going to Africa because
you're afraid the relationship is taking up too much of his time. Are
you?"

Marigold was too stunned to answer, but her silence answered for her.
When she looked up, Dawn and Matika were both staring at her.

Dawn broke the silence first, "Damn. I don't know if that's the
bravest or the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Believe me," said Matika immediately. "That does not need to be an
either-or choice."

                                     -=-

By the time Thule joined them, it was getting towards mid-afternoon.
They wound up taking Dawn on a walking tour of the property which,
despite being practically in the city of Boston proper, were fairly
extensive. They included a pond, now frozen over, and a small wooded
area.

"I can't believe how much space you have here," said Dawn.

"I think that's why Jonas bought the place," said Thule. "As valuable
as the house is, the property could be worth a lot more as the city
spreads out."

"You mean he would tear our house down?" Marigold asked, alarmed.

Thule seemed puzzled by her alarm, "Or sell it to someone who will.
It's not like we're going to live in Boston forever. If we do, I
suppose we could buy it from him."

Marigold wanted to protest, but Thule went on, "I'm just thinking out
loud. Jonas knows so much about making money that I don't."

Marigold put a hand on his shoulder, "It'll come, Thule. You've got a
good company and good people."

Thule looked at her, surprised.

"Hey," said Marigold. "I do pay attention, you know. And, I'm not
stupid. I'm a Harvard woman."

Thule laughed and hugged her, "You're right. I do have good people. I
should know. I picked most of them."

                                     -=-

They had dinner in the main kitchen. Matika had gone home, but Jake
had come in during the afternoon to get some work done before Monday.
He ate with them. Before long, conversation turned to his pending
divorce.

"I would say that it's pretty much inevitable now," he said. "But,
she's giving me full custody of Darwin. The rest of it...well, the
chips will fall where they may."

"Where is Darwin now?" asked Marigold.

"My father," said Jake, chuckling. "As soon as I told him I had Darwin
back and Hazel was staying in Mannsborough, he flew out from
California. Apparently, retirement is driving him batty and this is
just what the doctor ordered."

"Speaking of chips," asked Thule. "How is the poker coming along?"

Jake laughed, "I haven't played in a while. I'm thinking I'll hit
Foxwoods next weekend."

The conversation ebbed and flowed. Even as she was a part of it,
Marigold observed it, understanding part of the purpose of the gift
this weekend was. Thule was showing her what college would be like
when she got back and things weren't so crazy. He wanted her to
remember this weekend when she'd been in Africa a while.

Most importantly, he wanted to make sure she would come back. Marigold
couldn't imagine not coming back being an option at this point, but
Thule was a man who covered all of his bases.

She wondered if it really would be like this. The trial was expected
to end in late June or early July. And, everything she'd heard said
that sophomore year at MIT should be much easier than freshman. But,
would that mean more free time or would he just take on more
responsibility at work?

As she mulled this over, Marigold realized that someone had asked her
a question and she had missed it. All three of them were waiting for
her to answer.

"Sorry?" she asked.

Thule grinned at her, "I said, 'This is your night. We can do anything
you want. What do you want to do?'"

Marigold didn't have to think long, "Let's go dancing. I promised
myself I would go dancing once I got to Boston and I haven't done it
once yet."

They'd gone dancing a few times during the summer. The first time
Marigold suggested it, he'd tried to demur saying that he was willing
to give it a try, but not if he was expected to chaperone two women
alone. Sometimes, they'd brought Scott along. When they were in
Hawaii, they'd gone with Kale and Ioke, sometimes with a sixth,
sometimes without.

All three of them were staring at Jake. After a moment, he noticed,
"Whu?"

                                     -=-

"I haven't gone dancing in years," said Jake. "I don't think I
remember how."

Thule laughed, "You can't do any worse than I did the first time I
took these two out. I'd never been dancing."

"Don't worry," said Marigold. "I'll teach you. I'm a very patient
teacher."

Jake looked doubtful, "I hope you brought some iron-toed shoes."

"I would have," said Marigold. "But, it's so hard to find one with a
good heel. And, when you're five foot nothing, you want all the heel
you can manage to stand on."

She danced with Jake first, enjoying his reticence. He even seemed
nervous about holding her properly to the point that she had to say,
"Jake, I'm small, but I'm not made of porcelain. Hold on a little
tighter."

He did as he was told, "Sorry about dat."

Marigold caught the hint of an accent she knew her dance partner
didn't have, "Jake, are you doing your big, dumb thug routine on me?"

Jake stood up straighter, eliminating a hunch she hadn't noticed in
his shoulders. He also shifted his hands indicating that this part of
dance, at least, he was familiar with. "Sorry," he said again in his
normal voice.

"That's better," said Marigold. "Why would you try to convince me
you're a big, dumb thug?"

"Force of habit," said Jake. "I guess I'm just a little nervous,
dancing wit da...sorry, with the boss's girlfriend."

Marigold laughed gaily, "If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll
tell Thule he's not to rip your arms off even if you get fresh."

They were dancing now, Jake showing a surprising facility as he
loosened up, "I'm not sure which part of that statement is less
reassuring--that you think I might get fresh or that you think it's
necessary to tell Thule not to tear my arms off."

Marigold laughed again, a sparkle of mischief in her eye. When the
second song ended, she said, "You're doing great. I think it's time
Dawn and I switched."

"Actually," said Jake. "I'm gettin' kinda winded. Maybe I should
siddown."

"Liar," said Marigold, her eyes taking the sting out of the word. "If
I get to dance with you and Dawn doesn't, she'll never forgive me."
Before Jake could answer, she'd managed to maneuver out of his grasp
and into Thule's. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that Jake
and Dawn were, indeed, dancing together.

Thule chuckled as they danced, "That is dirty pool."

Marigold tried to look innocent, "What is?"

"His divorce isn't even final," said Thule. "And I suspect he's had a
crush on Dawn since before I knew either of them."

Marigold shrugged, "So? I seriously doubt anything's going to happen.
I just thought it would be nice if Jake could start to remember how
nice this sort of thing was."

Thule laughed, "You're shameless."

Marigold grinned back at him, "I don't have anything to be ashamed
of."

                                     -=-

When they got back to the house, Dawn feigned exhaustion, announcing
that she was just going to sleep in her room so that they "wouldn't
keep her up all night talking." Thule and Marigold kissed her
goodnight.

"Do you think she was really exhausted?" asked Marigold.

"God, no," said Thule, unzipping her out of her dress. "I'm pretty
sure she's inexhaustible. Still, I appreciate her giving us a little
privacy."

"What would we need privacy for?" Marigold asked, shimmying out of her
dress.

"If you don't remember," Thule said, lifting her out of her shoes and
laying her on the bed. "I must be working too many hours."

"You are, you know," Marigold said, kissing the top of his head. "I
don't want to nag, particularly not tonight, but..."

"I know I am," said Thule. He kissed the hollow of her throat, his
hands reaching around to unclasp her bra, "I'm doing too much. But, I
don't know which parts are too much and which parts absolutely need my
attention. I'm figuring it out though, Little Flower. By the time you
get back, I may be a gentleman of leisure."

Marigold laughed and shivered as his head found her breast, "Oh,
Thule. Even in leisure, you're an overachiever. Don't work too hard at
being a gentleman of leisure. I'll be thrilled if you can figure out
how to be a lazy scoundrel."

                                     -=-

Marigold woke on Sunday morning lying atop Thule, still straddling his
hips from the night before. She could still feel the pleasant soreness
that indicated he'd been inside of her. Lying perfectly still, she
tried to capture every aspect of the moment. Some day soon, she would
want to remember all of it to get her through some lonely nights.

As she was getting dressed, Thule's alarm clock went off. He opened
his eyes, slapped the clock and rose.

"I thought you were free until this afternoon," said Marigold.

"I am," said Thule. "But, I wanted to have brunch with you two. I may
not see Dawn before she has to leave otherwise."

Brunch was a quiet affair, held in the kitchen of the residential
wing. Conversation was light with long gaps. But, the gaps weren't
uncomfortable. They were just there. Afterwards, they sat in the
smaller, more private study and caught up one last time.

When Thule left for his meeting, Marigold lay in Dawn's arms, spread
out on the big, leather couch. They talked about Dawn's college plans
for the next year. She was determined to go to a college in Boston.
She just didn't know which one yet.

As they talked, Dawn dozed off several times.

"You must have been exhausted last night," Marigold joked. "You're
still drowsy now."

"Actually, I couldn't sleep much last night," Dawn said.

"Why not?"

Dawn didn't answer for a while. Then, she said, "Marigold, be careful
in Africa. I want you to come back safe."

Marigold wanted to say something more reassuring, but anything she
could think of sounded like it would just come out naive and worry
Dawn more. So, she said, "I'll be careful, wildcat. I promise."

They made love on the couch. Marigold had wondered at the beginning of
the weekend if there would be too much sex so that she wouldn't have
time to just be with Thule and Dawn. Now, she found herself wishing
there had been more. Visiting was nice and all, but both of her lovers
had become intimately familiar with her body. Dawn, as much as Thule,
knew just how to touch her. Of course, the whole weekend had served to
leave her in a state of near-constant arousal. So, it didn't take much
for her to find herself with her legs locked around Dawn's neck, feet
crossed in the small of her back.

They stayed in the study a long time, making love, relaxing, and then
making love again. Lying next to her, panting, Dawn said, "If we keep
this up, Thule may have time to come back."

Marigold's laugh was a throaty purr, "Would that be such a bad thing?"

Dawn nodded, "I don't think I would be able to stand it. And, I really
need to get going."

"Well," said Marigold. "Maybe we have time to give him one more
Christmas present before you do."

                                     -=-

The next two days were a flurry of finals, preparation, and packing.
Marigold managed to almost completely forget Thule's last birthday
present. It was Tuesday night as she was packing away her new digital
camera that she remembered.

After three abortive tries on her own, she went down to the area of
the house that had become a de facto satelite office for Roemer
Security Services. Jake was in his office with the light on. Matika
was sitting at a desk that had been moved into the main library,
reading. She started considering the pros and cons of asking each to
help her. Asking Jake would certainly prove amusing.

Before she could get past that first thought, Matika looked up and
smiled, "Sorry, Marigold. Thule's not here tonight. He's got a class."

"Actually," said Marigold. "I was looking for some help with a
Christmas present for Thule. It's kind of workplace inappropriate,
though."

Matika's grin was unmistakably mischievous and made her look like a
hell-raising fifteen year old, "Workplace inappropriate is my middle
name."

"Great," said Marigold. "I'm trying to get some pictures off this
camera so that I can pick one and print it out on photo stock."

Matika took the camera, gave it a quick glance, and started hooking it
up to her PC, "This is the same model we use in the office. It's a
little tricky until you get used to it."

Marigold watched, nodding her head, "I'm glad you showed me this. I'm
not sure how much tech support I'm going to get in Africa."

"Okay," said Matika. "They're downloaded. Let's just take a...wow."

Marigold didn't say anything. She was enjoying watching Matika's
reaction too much. It was almost as good as Jake's would have been.

Finally, Matika seemed to remember that there was someone else in the
room, "So, uh. Which one did you want to print?"

"The sexiest one possible that isn't obscene," said Marigold.

Matika seemed to consider the question, then said, "With that look you
two have on your faces, they're all pretty obscene."

Marigold laughed, "All right. One that doesn't show too much below the
waist."

"How about this one," Matika suggested. "The way Dawn's hair is
falling over her face..."

"Too coy," said Marigold. She pointed to a different image, "I think
this one is perfect."

Matika nodded, selecting the image and starting the print job.
Marigold watched her the way Thule had taught her. The former agent's
breathing was shallow and a little bit ragged, her skin faintly
flushed. Marigold had wanted her off-balance, but off-balance and
aroused was even more entertaining. Marigold supposed she shouldn't be
surprised. The first time Thule had met Matika, she'd been making out
with Svetlana Vandevoort. Still, she was a little bit surprised.

"Matika," she said. "Can I ask you a question, woman to woman?"

Matika turned away from her screen, "Yes?"

"Do you have a thing for Thule?"

The question hung in the air long enough for Marigold to wonder if
she'd pressed her luck too far by asking it. But, Matika said, "Woman
to woman?"

Marigold nodded, "Yes."

"I'm going to tell you this because you're one of the few people I
think will really understand it," said Matika. "Plus, you're going to
Africa, so I'll have six months to brace for it getting out."

She definitely had Marigold's attention now. The younger woman said
nothing, letting Matika get her nerve.

"I have a thing for a lot of people around here," said Matika. "I fall
in love at the drop of a hat. I think that's why I'm not with any of
them. I spend the day surrounded by admirable men and women. Who can
pick one and cut the rest off forever?"

Marigold nodded, absorbing the information. Then, she asked, "And, is
Thule one of the admirable men and women you've fallen in love with?"

Matika said, "I would never do anything about it."

Marigold sat so that they were at eye level, "Matika, listen to me.
I'm afraid for Thule. I'm afraid that he won't take care of himself. I
know you care about him. I would feel a lot better about this trip if
you promised me that you would keep an eye on him and make sure that
he doesn't push himself harder than he can take. If he gets close to
that, I don't care if you have to handcuff him to his bed and sit on
him. Keep him alive and I could forgive almost anything."

Matika said, "He's a very difficult and demanding man sometimes."

"Promise me," said Marigold.

Matika smiled, "And, in some ways, you're a perfect match for him. I
promise, Marigold. I'll make sure he gets through this year. I would
have done it even if you never asked."

Marigold hugged Matika tightly, "Thank you." After she broke the hug,
she added, "Would you do one more thing for me?"

Matika laughed, "Is it any easier than the last thing?"

Marigold smiled, "Yeah. But, it's still a favor."

"All right," said Matika.

"If I give you cash, would you pick up a frame for that, wrap it, and
make sure that it's on Thule's desk in the residential wing on
Christmas morning?"

Matika nodded, "You've got it."

                                     -=-

All too soon, Wednesday night came. Thule insisted on coming to the
airport to see her off. He had a car pick them up so that he could
sleep on the way back.

At the airport, Alan tried to stay as far away from Thule as possible
while remaining at the gate. Marigold introduced them, omitting Alan's
lineage. She also introduced Thule to Jennifer.

"Nice to meet you," said Thule, shaking Alan's hand. "Keep an eye on
her while you're over there, would you? Keep her safe."

"I'll keep her as safe as I keep myself," promised Alan.

"Fair enough," said Thule.

Thule hugged Marigold to his chest as hard as he could, kissing her
sweetly on the mouth before letting her go. To her credit, Marigold
managed to hold back her tears until they were on the plane.

Alan put a comforting arm around her, "You miss Thule already. Don't
you?"

Marigold nodded, "Dawn, too."

"Who?" Alan asked, eyebrow rising.

Marigold chuckled, "Never mind. I'll tell you later."

"I'm told that it helps if you look forward towards what's coming
rather than at what you've left behind," offered Jennifer.

Marigold nodded, drying her tears, "And, it's sure to be a grand
adventure."