But his thoughts were on another woman at the moment, so instead he left the room and headed down the stairs, towards the chatter of women busy in the kitchen and the laughter of children at play.
His resolve about leaving Lana behind was strengthened when he entered the kitchen and found her already there, helping out. Although “helping” was probably putting it generously; the young woman seemed a bit embarrassed by her complete lack of knowledge or skill in cooking, but in spite of that was determinedly doing her best to grate potatoes for hash browns.
The first view of her made Aiden's breath catch.
Gone was the crewman in a spare uniform, hair pulled into a messy ponytail for convenience or maybe because she wasn't sure how to properly care for it. Now the young woman wore a wispy yellow summer dress that hugged her slender curves, her reddish-blond hair had been brushed until it shone and pulled into a fancy braid, and unless he was crazy he was fairly sure she was wearing subtle makeup, making her big hazel eyes seem even bigger, full lips fuller, high cheekbones higher, and porcelain complexion more flushed with health.
That flush turned into a proper blush when Lana turned and caught him staring at her. She smiled almost shyly and looked away, hastily focusing back on her work. On the other side of the kitchen Jorroc's granddaughter Velsie caught the exchange and gave him a knowing grin, and he felt his own cheeks heating.
What exactly had the girls gossiped about last night, and how much of it had been about him?
Aiden gave Lana one last lingering look, cementing this moment in his memory. She was the picture of beauty. And like a picture, he now knew without a doubt that she was out of reach. She was so young, so hopeful. And, whatever the horror of a mind wipe, it had at least left her with no memories to haunt her. She had her whole life ahead of her, and no reason why it couldn't be a happy one.
In other words, his opposite in every way. He'd be a fool, a selfish fool, to hope he had anything to offer her. Anything, that is, but the gift of something better than a bitter old man and his doomed war on his doomed ship.
So he turned away and sought Jorroc out, finding him in the workshop around the back of his house.
“Up bright and early, Thorne?” the old man said jovially. “Usually you use your visits as an excuse to get some proper rest and relaxation. Something you're in urgent need of, if you don't mind me saying.”
“I want Lana to stay here,” he told his friend, not bothering with pleasantries.
Jorroc blinked, slowly setting down the diamond-tipped drill he'd been using to bore holes in metal plating for the coming day's work. “For her sake, I was hoping you'd ask,” he said quietly. “And kind of surprised you did.”
“She deserves better than life on a privateer ship.”
“She does,” the old man agreed, giving him a keen look. “Have you considered she's not the only one?”
Aiden bit back a sigh. “This again? If I stayed here eventually my past would catch up to me. The Movement would punish the people who harbored me, probably everyone in the colony.”
“You don't know they'd find you,” Jorroc argued. “I think what's keeping you away is you don't think you deserve anything but your endless war. That you don't deserve to be happy.”
“Yeah, probably. I know what the Deeks deserve, though.” Aiden leaned against the door frame, staring intently at his old friend. “I could hear all this from Ali, whenever she's nagging me to try to improve my circumstances for my own wellbeing. The question is, will you take care of the girl?”
“Of course.” The colony's governor stepped forward, reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I'll treat her as my own, you know that.”
“Good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out another anonymous credit account card, slipping it into the old man's hand. “This should help her start a new life.”
Jorroc looked down at the card, expression pained. “Thorne . . .”
“I don't saddle friends with burdens, I shower them with gifts.” Aiden gently closed the man's bony fingers around the thin wafer of metal. “Call me a selfish pile of rotting waste for that if you want.”
“Lana's not a burden,” his friend said quietly.
He thought back to the young woman in her yellow summer dress, those big, pretty eyes shyly searching his to see what he thought of her new look, and felt a pang. “I know.” He turned away, clearing his throat. “Breakfast seemed just about done. Let's eat and get to work . . . lot still to do before I take off.”
“Aiden,” Jorroc said, just before he reached the door. It was the first time in years the man had called him by his first name, so he paused, back still to him, and waited as his friend continued. “A man volunteered to fight in a war.”
Oh void, here we go. Biting back a sigh, Aiden turned around.
The old man continued determinedly in spite of Aiden's obvious impatience. “At the same time, he started a family. For over a decade he traveled to dozens of systems, fighting and killing the enemy in numerous engagements. He watched friends die, he failed to protect innocents, he did things he wasn't proud of.
“When he could, he returned home to be with his family. He cuddled his children, he went out in the yard and played ball with them. He did his best to be a husband to his wife, even as he watched her become a near stranger due to his absence. And became a near stranger to all his loved ones. But he loved them, and they loved him, and he
