In the final days of pregnancy, T'Naisa stood on the cabin's porch, her hands wrapped around a steaming-hot mug of cocoa. A crisp breeze made the pines restless. It tore the last yellowed leaves from the plum trees along the creek and sent them dancing over the dusting of snow left by a fast-moving storm.
Settling deep into her coat, she listened. The sound of music came again, distorted by distance, yet hauntingly beautiful. Then it stopped. She waited, sipping at her drink, but the woods were silent. With a shiver she turned and went inside.
oooo
Home from school, James rushed in from the cold and banged the cabin door shut behind him. The fourteen-year-old scarcely glanced at T'Naisa as he headed past their little Christmas tree, toward the kitchen area.
"I'm starved," he said. "Where's Simon?"
"Across the way," she replied from the toasty corner of the living room where she was curled up on the sofa, reading from a padd. As an ordained gol'nevsu, or deacon, Spock's eldest son lived in the retreat house and provided some spiritual guidance for the steady stream of Yanashites finding their way to Plum Creek. Simon had only recently arrived from Vulcan for a "pastoral year" before his ordination to the priesthood. At twenty-one, he was a tall, well-built man with handsome features that favored his deceased mother, Lauren—except for his dark hair and the set of his blue eyes. Jamie was the one who looked most like Spock. His voice was starting to deepen and he was spurting up fast, lanky and ungraceful, but in time his body would sort itself out.
Jamie came out of the kitchen carrying a glass of milk and a fistful of oatmeal raisin cookies. Though he would not have behaved quite so casually in his father's presence, he literally flopped into an upholstered chair.
T'Naisa asked, "Did you hear music outside?"
"Music? What kind of music?"
The memory made her smile. "Heavenly music…far away…like angels in the trees."
Jamie shook his head and devoured a cookie. "It probably came from the retreat house. Sometimes they play music there."
"No," T'Naisa said firmly. "I'm sure it was out in the trees."
She turned off her padd and set it aside. These days, it was hard to keep her mind on anything but the new life within her. Just now a little foot was pushing against the base of her ribs. She shifted position and the discomfort eased somewhat, but her belly had grown so large that it sometimes felt hard to breath. Her lungs were still delicate from the bombing on Vulcan. Even with the rich Earth oxygen, her obstetrician had her taking triox until the baby was born.
A contraction began to tighten her uterus—the third in the past hour. Her pulse raced with nervous excitement. Rubbing her back, she got up and went to the window. Maybe this was it—the real thing—the start of labor. T'Naisa Brandt was functionally sterile, yet here stood T'Naisa S'chn T'gai, about to give birth to a daughter. Spock's child. It still seemed like a miracle to her.
The contraction passed. "Be patient, little one," T'Naisa murmured, gently patting her midsection. "You'll be here before Christmas, I promise."
With a full, thankful heart, she gazed out at the pale afternoon light streaming into the forest clearing. This time of year, the sun carried little warmth. Lacy ice was forming along the edges of the creek. More snow was on the way. This would be their first winter at Plum Creek, and she intended to enjoy it fully.
Suddenly she heard the drone of a skimmer approaching the pad behind the retreat house. A couple of minutes later Spock's warmly clad figure came across the clearing, straight for the cabin. She met him at the door with a heartfelt embrace. She worried when he flew. Ever since surviving the skimmer explosion on Vulcan, she preferred using their groundcar.
"How's it flying?" she asked. They had only recently purchased the late model skimmer, a slightly different shade of red than their trade-in.
"Perfectly," Spock replied. "It is not factory-new, but quite adequate for our needs."
He shed his hooded coat and their conversation turned to the retreat house. Although it had opened to the public only a few weeks ago, it was already exceeding expectations. The Vulcan visitors seemed to enjoy the mountain setting. They were also fascinated with the livestock—their shaggy burro, Paco, and the horse lent to Jamie by Jim Kirk. It was not unusual to find Vulcans standing at the corral, hoping for a chance to touch Paco or Biscuit. They watched Jamie closely when he saddled the horse and cantered off into the woods.
T'Naisa envied Jamie, too. She looked forward to the day when she could get back on a horse.
Still standing, Spock activated the wall screen and ordered up the news from Vulcan.
With a twinkle in her eyes, T'Naisa said, "I heard music again. It's starting to sound more and more like a lullaby…"
He swung around and met her gaze, one eyebrow quirked. T'Naisa was reminded of a nocturnal creature startled by the beam of a flashlight. "Your fifth child and you're still nervous," she teased, knowing full well that circumstances had always kept him from participating in any of the births. Seriously she said, "Don't worry. My health is a lot better now. All it will take is a couple of good pushes. You'll see."
oooo
But things were not as easy as T'Naisa had anticipated. For one thing, it hurt. She tried not to show just how badly it hurt as Spock bundled her into the skimmer. Together, they soared into the clear midnight sky, leaving Jamie and Simon to handle matters at home. With the contractions coming so much harder and faster, she no longer felt brave at all. Blinking back tears, she admitted, "I'm not ready for this. I change my mind. I want to go home."
Spock was the strong one now. "T'Naisa…ashayam. When we reach the hospital in Boise, I will begin the Surah'than massage and you will feel better." He paused and with a touch of wry humor, repeated her own words back to her. "All it will take is a couple of good pushes. You'll see."
"I hope you faint," she grumbled.
He let the remark pass. "Look at the dash readout. We are almost there."
Her fingers dug into the armrests. There was no stopping the birth now. There was no turning back. "But…" she said, "what if I'm a bad mother?"
Spock laughed. It was only a brief jolt of laughter, but the first T'Naisa had ever heard from him, and the shock carried her all the way through another contraction.
"Really, T'Naisa," he said, "that was most amusing. You have mothered my sons for years. You have mothered the children at Seleya and at Baruk. Why would you behave any differently with your own child? You are a natural mother."
Shortly before dawn, with Spock at her side, T'Naisa gave the final push that brought their little daughter into the world. Her eyes brimmed with tears of joy as she held the swaddled newborn for the first time. Making soft sounds, the baby grimaced and waved her tiny but perfect hands. Spock touched a finger to her infant palm and she gripped it tightly.
T'Naisa's heart ached with tenderness. "Oh look, she wants her Daddy."
Spock gently smiled. Settling on the edge of the bed, he picked up the small, warm bundle and noted the damp auburn curls on her head. "Not quite red, not quite brown."
"A cooperative effort," T'Naisa said, "but she has my ears and eyebrows—not quite as pointed as yours. I think her name will suit her perfectly."
"Which name?" Spock questioned, not unreasonably, considering the number of times T'Naisa had settled on "the perfect name", only to change it a moment later.
Kissing the velvety little forehead, she said, "How about Tess? You were so fond of your daughter Teresa, and Tess is a derivative of that name…"
oooo
From the moment of her birth, Tess thrived. She was such a contented, undemanding baby that T'Naisa felt doubly blessed. It was, Spock claimed, the "ascendancy of her Vulcan genes" that kept the newborn sleeping peacefully through most of the night and silently alert during her wakeful daytime periods. In Vulcan's distant past, noisy children had brought snarths, le-matyas, and other predators upon their clans. Over the ages, it became a matter of natural selection. Tess was a "snarth-proof" child.
But all was not well at Plum Creek. In the days following Tess' birth, T'Naisa slowly began to notice a change in her husband, a subtle distancing that carried the chill of winter.
"Her name bothers you," she suggested to him in private. "We can still change it."
"To the contrary," he replied. "Tess is good name. It suits her."
"Then what?" she persisted. "Something is bothering you."
"I will be more attentive," he promised, and was true to his word.
On the day before Christmas, the Plum Creek Sanctuary closed to the public. The weather was clear and cold, the ground carpeted with a fresh layer of snow. Midmorning, the Pascal family arrived and they all gathered in the retreat house temple for the Yanashite equivalent of a baptism. Using water imported from the Seleya fountain on Vulcan, Simon performed the rite placing little Tess into the Shiav's care. It was a joyful occasion, but when the family later joined Jim and Antonia Kirk at their neighboring ranch, T'Naisa sensed Spock drawing away from her again. Bundled warmly, they walked to a snow-clad rise by Jim's place and watched the children pair off and slide downhill on a big sled. At their turns, Louis Pascal and Tru Kirk shrieked with delight. T'Beth's newly adopted daughter, Rose Ellen, was equally enthralled and begged for more rides with her sister Bethany or James. Then even the adults took to the sled.
T'Naisa left Spock holding their baby daughter and slid down the hill with Simon. Her cheeks flushed from the cold. Laughing hard, she hit bottom and looked around for Spock.
He was gone.
T'Naisa followed the snow tracks all the way back to Jim's house. There she found Spock sitting alone by the fireplace with Tess in his arms.
"It was cold out," he said in answer to her questioning look.
"She has a warming blanket." T'Naisa felt him resisting the pull of their bond and did not understand the reason for it.
"I was cold," he said. Nothing more.
Walking over to him, she put her arms around his shoulders and pressed her icy cheek to his hair. By relaxing, she could sense the general movement of his thoughts, even though he was trying to shield them. What she seemed to discover, dismayed her.
Standing bolt upright, she accused, "You're unhappy with the baby."
"No," he quickly denied with a brief glance in T'Naisa's direction.
"Yes, you are. Why? Would you have preferred a boy?"
"No," he firmly repeated. "Truly, it is not her." After a moment of fire-gazing he said, "I have been thinking…how good it would be if our family's faiths were already united…Yanashite and Catholic…so this child could freely participate in both."
T'Naisa could not accept it. "Maybe you have been thinking of that, but something else is bothering you."
Holding Tess securely, Spock rose and offered T'Naisa his warmest, most caring look. "If anything is bothering me, ashayam, it is your matchless beauty."
T'Naisa was not taken in by his apparent change of mood, for she sensed that it was not genuine. She was about to speak when voices sounded on the porch and everyone piled into the house. The Catholics among them changed clothes, crowded into a skimmer, and set off for Christmas Eve Mass. T'Naisa and Simon helped Jim Kirk keep an eye on dinner while Spock watched over Tess and discussed science with Aaron Pascal.
After church, they all sat down to a feast of traditional Mexican food topped off with a cream-filled pineapple cake. T'Naisa tried to set aside her personal concerns; after all, this was Christmas Eve. She had become good friends with the Kirks and especially enjoyed these get-togethers that involved the entire family.
Jim poked his fork in Spock's direction. With a glimmer in his eyes, he was saying, "…and so I told Antonia, 'wouldn't you know it; he's turning Uncle Lem's place into a sanctuary for displaced Vulcans.'"
Spock raised an amiable brow and there was laughter around the table.
Jamie interjected, "You won't believe it, Uncle Jim. The Vulcans are crazy about Biscuit; they love watching me on horseback. You should set up some trail rides. It would be a real moneymaker."
"That reminds me," Jim told him. "I spoke to my cousin Lucas about that job in Iowa next summer. He said he could always use a strong, young back."
Spock stirred beside T'Naisa. "A job in Iowa?"
Jamie briefly ducked his head before meeting his father's eyes across the table. "I was going to ask you, really. I was just waiting to see if Mr. Howard wanted me. I'll be fifteen…and I love working outdoors."
T'Naisa looked at Spock and sensed his deep reluctance. Apparently he did not want Jamie to leave. But come September, the boy would be starting high school; he was growing up fast. Encouraging a little independence seemed like a good idea.
She focused her attention on Jamie. "Are you talking about the whole summer?"
"Well, not that long," he replied, no doubt remembering the horse trails and the good fishing down in the canyon. And there was also the old groundcar that he was helping a friend restore. "A month would be nice, though—maybe six weeks. I could stay with the other farm hands in the bunkhouse."
"You'd stay with Lucas in his house," Jim corrected in the tone of a protective uncle. "Fully supervised."
Jamie sighed in aggravation. "I'm not a baby."
"You're not a man, either," Simon told him.
The remark from his older brother made Jamie stiffen.
Quickly T'Naisa said, "Jamie, I can see that you really want that job. Your father and I will have to discuss it and talk to Lucas." She reached for Spock's hand. "Won't we, dear?"
Spock made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat, but it was enough to reassure James. Dinner finished on a pleasant note. After clearing the table, they moved to the large, rustic living room where a tall, beautifully decorated Christmas tree glowed by the staircase. T'Beth took hold of Tess and settled in next to her father on a loveseat. T'Naisa chose the rocking chair near the fire, contented and a bit sleepy after the good meal. Antonia began to turn on some Christmas carols, then glanced with apology at Simon, who had lost his keen musical ear during a severe illness when he was nineteen. For the former violinist, the sound of music had become a discordant irritation.
"Do you mind?" Antonia asked him.
Simon smiled agreeably. "It's alright. Go ahead…please."
She set the volume low.
Tru ran over and scooted onto her father's lap. She was five now, a brown-eyed strawberry blonde in curly pigtails. Her complexion was a shade or two darker than Jim's, but otherwise she strongly favored him in both appearance and temperament. On her last birthday she had received a black and white pinto pony, and she regularly saddled up Shiloh and accompanied her father on outdoor adventures. One might think that Jim spoiled her, but as a former starship captain, he could be a rigid disciplinarian.
Just now his eyes were full of mischief as he gazed upon his only child. "Bedtime," he teased, "isn't it?"
"Daddy, no!" Tru corrected him. "It's Christmas Eve! Time for presents, remember?"
Three-year-old Louis hopped up and down, his eyes shining. "Presents! Yes, presents!"
Jim pretended to let himself be convinced, and gifts were distributed to each child. An hour later, the living room was strewn with discarded giftwrap and packaging. The children had all received something in the way of toys and clothing, and now the youngest among them were beginning to yawn.
It was time to go home. To T'Naisa, it seemed that Spock had left her and Tess even before the presents were distributed. His pensive mood was back, and she knew it could not be blamed on the discussion about Jamie, for the trouble had begun even before they came to Kirk's ranch. One way or another, she would air the matter tonight.
Back at Plum Creek, Simon settled T'Beth and her family into the retreat house with him. In the cabin, T'Naisa waited until Jamie went to bed. A cold wind gusted against the thick log walls, and the barometer was dropping fast.
"It'll be storming soon," T'Naisa said, turning out the main lights, leaving only their little Christmas tree shining.
On the sofa, Spock rose from his thoughts long enough to notice. "Leave off all the lights if you wish; I don't need them."
Steeling herself, she said, "You're not coming to bed?"
His eyes were on the tree. "Not now. I might go over to the temple."
The strangeness between them made T'Naisa shiver. Determined to put an end to it, she said, "No. We're going to talk. Either we do it here in the living room where Jamie might overhear, or we go into the bedroom. We won't bother Tess if we keep our voices low."
He gave her a pained look. "It is a private matter. You need not concern yourself. I will deal with it alone."
"A private matter? Your private matter has been spilling all over me for days. I'm getting tired of it and…" her voice quavered on the verge of tears "…and frankly, it's starting to scare the hell out of me."
He sat stock-still, silently wrestling with some inner demon. T'Naisa abruptly turned away and went into their bedroom, where Tess was sleeping soundly in a cradle. She was changing into her bedclothes by the glow of a nightlight when Spock came in and shut the door. He looked as tense as ever.
Crossing the little room, she grasped his warm hands and gazed into his eyes. "Out with it, ashayam. I love you. You know that I love you."
Gently he disengaged himself. Sitting down on the bed, he stared over at their infant daughter. "It is love," he said thickly, "that is the problem."
Love? The strange admission sent a fresh ripple of fear through T'Naisa. Surely he was not confessing to some infidelity…
She sensed him struggling to contain his emotions, and sat close beside him. For a moment she thought he might break down completely. He must have lowered his mental barriers, for it all suddenly came clear.
Relieved, she said, "You miss them. You miss Lauren and Teresa. Our baby's birth, and the sledding, and Christmas—they're stirring up memories."
His head bowed in shame. "It is not right. You are my wife now…and you have given me a beautiful daughter."
T'Naisa put an arm around him. "Listen to me," she pleaded. "Love doesn't end at the grave—I know that. These feelings of grief don't mean that you love us less. Those memories are part of you; they always will be."
Without speaking a word, he lay back on the bed, stretched out his legs, and stared at the ceiling. But the bond between them remained open. T'Naisa could feel his continuing pain, and her heart ached for him. Finally she said, "You never talk about Teresa or share any memories of her when we meld. She must have been a very special little girl."
His dark eyes briefly found hers, then looked away.
Rising, T'Naisa went to a window and drew aside the curtain. Thick white flakes were spattering against the glass. "It's already snowing," she said. "I bet Teresa liked the snow, didn't she?"
Spock sighed. "She would have been very happy here. She would have been happy anywhere, as long as she was with her family. From her earliest years, Teresa was…full of sweetness."
T'Naisa returned to Spock's side of the bed, and sitting beside him, gently stroked his dark hair. "Tell me more," she urged.
His tenuous control began to slip. Words choked from him. "On the last day…she wanted to go with me to Rome, but I…I would not allow it. I…got only as far as the station when…when I knew Lauren had died. I…hurried back home… but not quickly enough to save them." He closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to shut out the bitter image of their slain bodies. Then gradually his face cleared. He was back in command of his emotions.
"How terrible," T'Naisa said. For a long while neither of them spoke. She began to wonder if Spock's grief over Teresa was making him a bit overprotective toward her surviving twin brother. "What about Jamie? You don't you want him to go to Iowa, do you?"
Perhaps he was reading her thoughts, for he replied, "If you think it is because of Teresa, you are wrong. Consider this. While on Vulcan, James lived among Yanashites, and here on Earth he has mostly attended Catholic schools that promote charitable behavior among the students. Despite his Vulcan appearance, he has encountered very little prejudice. If he goes to Iowa, that will likely change."
T'Naisa gazed down at him. "You sound very sure of that. I look Vulcan, and I haven't run into many problems."
"A boy is an easier target than an adult. Believe me."
T'Naisa went to her own side of the bed and got under the covers. Lying with her hand on his chest, she said, "Poor Jamie. We'll just have to sit him down and explain things. He needs to know what to expect, especially with high school coming up. But I think some time on the farm would be good for him."
"A farm?" Spock's voice held a distinct note of displeasure. "His time would be better spent gaining work experience in a more useful field of endeavor. No pun intended."
"Aha!" The words came as no surprise to T'Naisa. "I've been waiting to hear you say that since Jamie was ten. It bothers you that he's shown no interest in anything but the outdoors. Spock, he may look like you, but he's very different from you and from Simon. He's going to find his own way, be his own man."
"A Vulcan cowboy?" he suggested with heavy sarcasm.
The remark was so irritating that she almost spoke too loudly. "And is there anything wrong with that? As I recall, I don't have a college degree…thanks to a certain commandant of Starfleet Academy. I don't even have any technical training. So I suppose, in your estimation, I don't amount to much. Do I?"
Spock turned, and gathering her into his arms, whispered, "That commandant was a fool."
"That commandant," she countered, "was a man of high character. And he still is."
At that, he kissed her mouth in a way that left no doubt that he found her more than satisfactory.
Reluctantly she drew back and reminded him, "The doctor said six weeks."
"He is," Spock lamented, "a most unreasonable man."
Grateful to have her attentive husband back, T'Naisa smiled. "Put yourself to sleep, darling. You know how."
As he got under the covers, she closed her own eyes and let dreams overtake her.
…Music was playing. Consumed with envy, she watched Spock dance with a lovely, golden-haired woman. It was his wife, Lauren. Then, somehow, T'Naisa felt his arm around her and now she was his wife, moving in perfect time to the music. Sweet, beautiful music…
oooo
T'Naisa's eyes opened to a room full of soft morning light. Drowsy, she felt the weight of Spock's arm on her waist as they lay nestled together. The dream music was still playing, instrumental, on solo violin. Hark the herald angels sing…glory to the newborn King…
As she further awakened, her heart began to pound. She bolted upright in bed. The sudden movement roused Spock. In the cradle, Tess somehow slept on.
…Peace on Earth and mercy mild; God and sinners reconciled…
"Spock! Do you hear it?"
She did not wait for an answer. Leaping out of bed, she threw on her robe and hurried into the living room. Spock was not far behind her. Side by side, they stared at the young man standing by the lit Christmas tree, expertly playing a violin. T'Naisa reached for Spock's hand and felt joy encircling them.
"Simon…" Spock said.
At the sound of his father's voice, Simon turned, never missing a note. As he was finishing the piece, Jamie wandered out of his bedroom, blinking away the sleep.
Simon lowered his violin and broke into a happy grin. "I can hear music properly again. I've been waiting to surprise you. Merry Christmas!"
Spock walked over and enclosed him in a brief embrace. Then T'Naisa caught hold of her stepson and said, "So that's what I've been hearing! You've been practicing in the woods, haven't you?"
Simon nodded. "When I thought I could get away with it."
"Play something else," Jamie urged.
Simon raised his violin and began a sweet, lyrical composition of his own.
T'Naisa went over to Spock. Touching his face, she told him, "I dreamt we were dancing. We never have, you know." An impish sparkle lit her eyes. "For your information, it's been scientifically proven that dancing enhances cerebral and cognitive thought processes."
His eyebrow climbed. He glanced down at his bathrobe as if the rumpled attire might excuse him.
"Come on," Jamie begged, "dance with her!"
Outside, the storm had broken. As the birds shook off the cold and welcomed the snow-clad Christmas morning with songs of their own, T'Naisa smiled at her husband. Their eyes held and she went into his arms. Then they began to move with the music, a slow mesmerizing dance of love that she knew she would never forget.
oooOOooo