“If the baby goes to the Zegers,” Willem says, “you both keep looking for good dowry bonds with other families until we get our girl. It is imperative,” he points a finger at both of them, “that you get Hans a sister. As soon as possible. I suggest you approach the Speeses,” Willem and Bram turn their eyes to Edda. “It’s a good family, we already have close personal ties, and Aline is still unredeemed.”
Willem appears to wait for a reply from Edda, but she returns his gaze in sullen silence.
“Fine, Dad,” Bram finally says. “Problem is we also have a sudden shortage of,” he clears his throat, “karma.”
“Yes,” Willem sighs, and turns his stern eyes at Edda. “That incident on the Joyousday House was… unfortunate. But it is what it is. There’s nothing we can do about it anymore. You will just have to make do with less. Good news is, you won’t be needing as much once I…” His voice wanes, and an uncomfortable silence spreads.
Bram clears his throat. “Shouldn’t we then try to dowry-bind a more, hmm, wealthy family?”
“Aline not good enough for you?” Edda says, her icy voice almost a whisper.
“That’s not what I meant!” Bram says. “It’s just that—”
“At this point,” Edda says, “it’s not even likely the Speese Elders would consider dowry-bonding with us, and you are thinking of, what, the Haacks? The Sievers?” She snorts dryly. “We are stained right now. We have to wait it out.”
“And who do we thank for that?” Bram says, a notch louder, eyes drilling Edda’s.
“Hush!” Willem says, and gestures with his head at the sleeping Hans. “This is aws Gift’s Eve. Tonight, we show respect and civility to the family.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Bram mutters, still glaring at Edda. “Let’s just hope the baby is a girl.”
“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Both of you keep your eyes open to how our reputation develops throughout the year. You need to be smart, yeah? Smarter than ever. Can you do that?” He looks alternatively at his kids, but his eyes linger longer on Edda’s.
“I can’t stand it, Dad,” she says with a shrill voice. “Stop talking like you are not here anymore.”
Willem and Bram exchange a long look. Then Willem sighs and Bram sinks his head.
“I will not be, girl,” Willem says, his tone soft and measured.
“Coward,” she says, venom in her voice.
The word hangs heavy in the kitchen, spreading slowly in the minted air.
“In the next weeks,” Willem finally speaks, his voice as slow and patient as ever, “I’ll be going often to the colonist’s office at aws Eye. There’s a lot of paperwork to complete and it would be good if one of you comes with me.”
“I’ll go, Dad,” Bram says.
“Sure, Bram,” Edda says, venom still drenching her every word. “Encourage him.”
Bram slams the table in sudden outrage. “Don’t even dare open your mouth!” He stands, dragging his chair noisily back. Besides him, on the rocking chair, Hans is looking up at him with large, curious eyes. Bram points a shaking finger at her. “You’ve done enough, spoiled brat! Grow up!”
Edda stares up at her brother like she doesn’t know him. Bram’s glare is… disturbing, Ximena thinks, his expression… so horribly distorted. When a soft face not made for fury is gripped by it, beware being on the receiving end.
“Bram, sit,” Willem says, his voice patient, soothing. “Aws Gift Eve, remember.”
But Bram glowers on, cheeks inflamed, finger fixed inches away from Edda’s nose. “What’s next, huh? What do you want now? To invite the inquisition for dinner?”
“Oh, come on,” Edda says, her voice shaking lightly. “You’re so naive. The Quaestor is bluffing, yeah? All she wants is to get into Dad’s pants.”
“And of course, if she’s not,” Bram shrugs his shoulders with enraged exaggeration, “who fucking cares about the consequences, yeah?”
“Bram, stop, please,” Edda says, a hint of tears welling up in her eyes. Ximena feels her shock at seeing her little brother like that. He is never mad. He is never mean. And he sure as Dem never curses. “You know as well as I do that Dem is not for real.”
Bram purses his lips, eyes still glaring at Edda, but says nothing.
“Dad is going to die, goahdammit!” she says. “For no reason!”
Bram turns his face to Willem, and his expression softens immediately. He sits, eyes sunk, and begins to rock the baby chair to the visible delight of Hans.
“That is not true, Edda,” Willem says, his voice a notch louder now. “I’m meeting Goah’s Embrace because it is my time to do so.”
“But—!”
“Shut up!” Willem lashes out with as much fury as Bram displayed before.
Edda gapes back at him, dumbstruck.
Hans begins to cry, and Bram takes him into his arms.
“Shut up, Edda!” Willem says, his voice barely under control. “This is the last time I will speak of this with you. Now, get this into that thick skull of yours. I had a good life under Goah’s Gift, like I hope the three of you are having. And now the end has come. As simple as that. Under no circumstances must this family leave the protection of aws Gift and aws Compacts, because outside there is only barbarism; and short, miserable lives. Now listen: I must go, a baby girl must come, and life goes on, understood? And it is your responsibility to make it a good life for all of you.” His eyes lock alternatively on both of his children, who stare at him in stunned silence. “You are going to be Elders now. Behave as such, Goah’s Mercy, and take responsibility over the family.”
“Yes, Dad,” Bram says, eyes on his cup.
Edda stands noisily and storms out of the kitchen.
