green-lined street, and indulged in a moment of great contentment.
“It’s a shame you don’t drink,” Gary said. “You should have one to celebrate.”
“You have one for me,” she said, “since I drove. I don’t
He laughed ruefully and agreed — and ordered a double Scotch on the rocks, in her honor. Watching him drink it, she didn’t think she was ready for that yet, even if she wasn’t driving. What she
She got hardly any more work done the rest of that day than she had when she came back from the hospital. She didn’t worry about it a bit. Sooner or later, she would catch up. In the meantime, she’d enjoy herself. She’d earned it.
And if that wasn’t a change in attitude, she didn’t know what was.
On the way home with the kids, she stopped at Cost Plus Imports. Kimberley and Justin loved the place. Among other things, Cost Plus had weird toys from all over the world — and imported candy bars, too. Nicole wasn’t ready quite yet to corrupt them that far, though she almost yielded to the temptation. Instead, she bought Kimberley a child-palm-sized frog with bright green, satiny skin, and Justin a red-and-blue lizard. They were delighted with their prizes.
And she bought herself a bottle of red wine. She didn’t know anything about wine; except in Carnuntum, she’d never had anything to do with it. The brands had changed a bit since then: no Falernian in stock here. She hoped it would be good. It certainly had cost enough, even at a steep discount. If it wasn’t as upscale as its pricetag, she could only hope Liber and Libera would forgive her.
There was a certain comfort in the routine of a Thursday night at home: dinner she actually cooked, fried fish and mixed vegetables and, as a treat, a package of curly fries; then baths and bedtime story and bed for the kids. They didn’t understand why Mommy was so happy, or just what a partnership was, but they were glad because she was glad. It mattered more to them that there were two new additions to the population of stuffed animals. Nicole was amused to hear Kimberley explain to Scratchy the stuffed bobcat,
“Now, remember, Scratchy, you can’t eat Ribbit, even if he is a frog. You have to be friends.”
Justin protested loudly: “Lizzie! Lizzie too!”
“Lizzie, too,” Kimberley agreed. “You hear that, Scratchy? You can’t eat Lizzie, either. Except,” she added with calculation worthy of both her parents combined, “if Justin is naughty — “
“No exceptions,” Nicole said, exercising parental veto. Kimberley glowered, but for that particular sentence, there was no court of appeals. She sulked for a minute or two, but she’d survive it. Nicole kissed her good night and left her clinging tightly to both the much-mended and much-battered Scratchy and the shiny new Ribbit. Justin was already asleep in his own bed. Nicole kissed him on the forehead, too lightly to wake him, and went back to the brightly lit and newly quiet kitchen.
She had to rummage through the drawers before she found a corkscrew. She’d never used one before, or paid much attention to anybody else who did — she’d been too busy being censorious about the evils of alcohol — as if good red wine and rubbing alcohol were the same poisonous substance.
She managed to push the cork down into the wine instead of pulling it out of the bottle. Her mouth twisted in chagrin, but really, it didn’t matter. She found a goblet deep in a cupboard, one of a set of crystal she’d been given as a wedding present, and filled it nearly full of wine that looked like the Falernian she’d sold by the cup in the tavern. It smelled much less sweet, but no less rich; a richness that felt, somehow, very modern, very spare and contemporary. That was fitting, when she thought about it.
She picked up the goblet and a dishtowel, and carried them into the bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, shedding a soft glow on the plaque from Carnuntum. She folded the dishtowel at its base and poured a little wine, first over Libera’s face, then over Liber’s. Whatever the deities didn’t drink ran down the limestone surface and soaked into the towel.
“Thank you,” Nicole said to the god and goddess. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She set the glass in front of the plaque as a second offering. But there needed to be more. She lifted the glass again and, for the first time in her modern life, took a sip of wine.
It wasn’t nearly so sweet as Falernian. The flavor, like the smell, was richer, and more complex. After several sips and some moments’ thought, she decided she liked it better. She could hope Liber and Libera did, too.
However they felt about it, they weren’t saying. She set the cup down half empty, leaving it for them if they wanted it, and turned out the light. She’d sleep well, she was sure. Whatever worries she had, for this night at least, none of them mattered.
In the dark silence of the bedroom, Libera’s stone eyes swung toward Liber’s. The god was already looking her way. They nodded. The wine had been a little on the sour side, but it was the first formal offering they’d had in a long, long time. They were both well pleased.
They were also both amused. They were gods; they could read a human soul as easily as a man could read letters on a parchment. Nicole had not simply been thanking them for returning her to this time — which she, for incomprehensible mortal reasons, preferred to their own. She was thanking them, too, for all that had gone well in her life since.
And that, Liber and Libera knew, was foolishness. How could it be anything else? She’d done those things, every one of them, herself.
