Epilogue

Deena was late.

Maralei frowned at the locked office door, and paused. She had a key card, of course—after all, it was her office, too. But Deena never locked the door when she was in, unless she had a face-to-face meeting with a client. And she never scheduled those without informing Maralei.

The most logical explanation, then, was that Deena had not yet arrived, though that in itself was unusual. Deena was always here by the time Maralei got to work, without fail. Sometimes Maralei wondered if she spent the night there. She lived for her work. The last time she'd been absent—in fact, the only time Maralei could recall—had been the weeks she'd recently spent in prison.

Then again, maybe Deena had indeed scheduled a meeting, and simply forgotten to inform Maralei. She hadn't been herself lately, instead distracted, harried, and exhausted in ways her current workload couldn't explain. She'd even cut back her client list significantly. And when Maralei had pressed her for a reason, she had cited only "changes at home" and promised better answers soon.

Well, standing out here waffling wasn't going to accomplish anything. Whether Deena was here or not, Maralei had work to do. She swiped her key card to open the door. Worst case scenario, she figured, she would interrupt a meeting and Deena would be annoyed. She'd forgiven her for worse.

But the office was empty. Deena really was late.

Maralei set down her briefcase and opened her omni-tool. Work could wait a few more minutes, she decided, while she checked in with her boss. Frankly, she was worried.

But before she could place the call, Deena came rushing in, her own briefcase in one hand, a cloth-wrapped bundle cradled in her other arm, and a bulging bag slung over her back.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Maralei," she said breathlessly. "The girl I'd hired to watch the baby fell ill at the last moment, and I couldn't find a replacement in time. So I had to bring her with me."

Her head spinning, Maralei blinked in astonishment. "The… baby?" Deena hadn't said anything to her about that! "You adopted a baby?"

Deena glanced up at her, her eyes wide and bleary, but happy. "That's right, I never did tell you, did I?" She smiled down at the bundle in her arms. "She needed a home, a family, and I… I suppose I needed her."

That certainly explained why she'd been so tired lately. Maralei vividly remembered her own daughter's infancy barely a century ago, and all the panic and worry and sleepless nights that accompanied the sheer joy. It was an exciting, exhausting, and beautiful time, at once interminable and over far too soon. Maralei had long ago concluded that motherhood was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

A grin spread across her face. "By the Goddess, Deena! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, dear." Deena held out the wriggling, cooing bundle. "Will you hold her for a moment? I need to make her a bottle."

"Of course!" Maralei took the baby from Deena and cradled her, rocking her gently. "Be careful, though. I might not give her back," she teased. "She's beautiful, Deena."

She really was—almost startlingly so. It was her eyes, Maralei decided. Wide and bright and brilliantly green, those eyes stared up at her with wonder and that ethereal wisdom peculiar to infants. The baby's little mouth opened as she studied the new face looking down at her, sapphire lips forming a perfect O as she seemed to consider whether or not she liked this development.

"It's okay, little one," Maralei crooned. "Mama's getting you something to eat, yes. You're okay."

The baby seemed satisfied by this, and began to suck on her tiny fingers. But those eyes stayed locked on Maralei.

"What's her name?" Maralei asked.

Carefully measuring formula into warm water, Deena didn't look at her. "Caia."

"Caia?" Maralei frowned. What a strange name for such a beautiful child. "Doesn't that mean something like 'bitterness' or 'resentment'?"

That seemed to give Deena pause. "Does it? Hmm. I suppose so." She shrugged and took the child back, and put the bottle to Caia's tiny lips. "I hadn't thought about that. Her father named her; it means something different in his language. 'Forgiveness,' I think." Stroking the baby's cheek with a finger, she murmured, "I can only hope he would."

Those last words were clearly directed more to herself than to Maralei, but Maralei's curiosity overcame discretion for the moment. "He would what?"

Deena hesitated, then whispered, "Forgive me."