primary education. By that time, the university would likely be finished, and she could attend an actual university instead of taking correspondence lessons.
Her babies werenât babies any longer, and though Marrin didnât want to hold them back, part of her mourned the loss of her role as young mother. They didnât need her any longer. Not like they had.
She half-listened to the speeches, her mind on the company sheâd finally turned into a success. Ashco had turned its first profit this year. A year of good weather and an unusually plentiful rain season had allowed her to siphon some of the expense sheâd normally have spent on irrigation into finishing up the climate-controlled warehouses and implement the distribution system that allowed the crop to reach all parts of the colony before it spoiled.
Luck had been with them this year, no doubt about it. It meant money and security, and the realization of a dream and the success of the business contented her in ways sheâd never expected. Marrin Levy, a businesswoman? Sheâd have laughed at the thought. Now, she couldnât imagine anything less.
Keaneâs arm rested along the back of her chair, and she stole a look him. Without him, sheâd never have made it to this place. The fever that stole her first husband had left them bereft, alone in a harsh land that was not home. A young mother of two, with a third growing in her belly, struggling to plant and harvest a brown and bleached scrap of land without the man whoâd brought them there⦠There had been so many times sheâd come close to giving up. If sheâd had the money sheâd have taken her children and gone home, but he hadnât left them even with that.
Three rotations of struggle, of poverty, of hunger and backbreaking labor, had finally forced Marrin to send away for what the Homesteaders called a âfield-husbandâ. A man to work her fields and help take care of things.
Love hadnât been meant to enter into it. She looked at Keaneâs face, his eyes trained on the stage where there were more speeches being made. His lovely, dear face, which hadnât changed since the day sheâd first seen him.
He turned to look at her and they shared a secret smile. The speechmakers stopped talking. The audience rose to clap and cheer for the graduates, and Marrin turned from the sight of her husband, the man whoâd come to tend her fields, but whoâd ended up tending her heart, and found Saraiâs beaming smile.
The colony was still small enough to support group celebrations like this one. The tables had been set with flowers and pretty cloths. A band hired to provide music. Food, laid out in a bounty that proved to any who doubted how prosperous theyâd all become.
Marrin watched Sarai chattering with her friends. Her other daughters, Aliya and Hadassah, had also abandoned the dull company of their parents to seek their companions. Marrin had a plate of salad and a glass of iced water, but wasnât doing much beyond looking around in amazed pride.
âYouâre Saraiâs mother, arenât you?â
Marrin turned at the question to see a woman of about her own age she faintly recognized. âYes. Iâm Marrin Levy.â
âArlene Simpson. Iâm Jackâs mom.â
Marrin didnât know Jack, but she smiled and nodded anyway. Keane came up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently before stepping away to take the plate from her hands and begin finishing the salad.
âHi,â he greeted Arlene.
The other womanâs eyes widened slightly. âHello. Iâm Jackâs mom.â Her smile thinned as she looked at Marrin.
Keane smiled and shrugged, more honest in his reply than Marrin had been. âSorry, I donât know Jack.â
âJack Simpson?â Arleneâs tone clearly said Keane ought to know him. âHe might be a year or two behind