Chapter 6: In which River and Kaylee flirt with varied results

"I love your hair, River," Katie, Kaylee's fourteen-year-old cousin said as she ran a horsehair brush through the long brown locks. "It's so pretty."

"It's just fabric," River said to Joanne, Kaylee's sixteen-year-old cousin, ignoring Katie and her observation all together. "It should be soft."

"Well, we're gonna stuff it with somethin'," Joanne said, taking the doll River had stitched together away from the girl. It wasn't very complicated, the body was made out of the scraps from an old apron, it was red with little white flowers on it and very, very soft from years of wear. A flour bag made up the bonnet and the baby's hands. Zoë's baby, Joanne was positive, would absolutely adore it.

River had never sewn a doll before. She'd never sewn anything before. She didn't know why, but this activity, Joanne had insisted, would be the most rewarding of all the many things they could do that day. Joanne had said that Jack wouldn't want to be around 'them girls' if they were sewing. River didn't know why anyone wouldn't want Jack around, but she didn't feel nearly confident enough to say so. It had turned out all right though, after much protesting from Joanne, Katie and Miriam (Kaylee's nine-year-old cousin), and an intervention by their mother where River was forced to make her opinions of the situation known: Jack was allowed to stay as long as he didn't get in the way. Much to Joanne's displeasure, he'd spent the entire afternoon totally out of the way, sitting in the windowsill whittling and observing as Joanne patiently showed River how to cut and pin and stitch.

"Not sand," River said. "Sand is little, little rocks. 'If your son asks for a loaf of bread, will you give him a stone'?"

"Oh-kay," Joanne said, glancing at Katie significantly. From across the room, Jack glared spitefully at his sisters. "What else we got?"

"Sawdust," River said, petting her little doll. "Heart and soul of wood. Living, breathing, growing."

"Good idea, River," Jack said before his sisters could throw each other more significant glances. "Uncle Collin's got loads a sawdust. That doll'll be soft as a baby bunny."

"But it won't bite," River said, glancing at Jack.

He smiled at her and chills she couldn't quite account for flew down her spine. It was an alarming yet very pleasurable experience. She wanted him to smile at her again.

"You girls comin'?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Joanne said as she stood up. She'd really wanted to be River's bosom friend, but Jack was stealing the new girl away. Perhaps it was for the best.  Joanne was starting to think that River must be totally loopy, in which case, she didn't really want to be her friend so much after all.

"I'm sorry," River said to Joanne softly as they followed Jack, who was showing off by walking nearly three feet above them on a rickety fence post, to Collin's workshop.

"You're sorry?" Joanne asked. "What did you do?"

"I don't know how to be your friend," River said. "You're mad."

"I'm not mad," Joanne gasped.

River looked at the girl, quizzically, "Yes, you are."

"How would you know what I feel?" Joanne practically screamed. "What, do you read minds or something?"

"I'm sorry," River said again, more than a little cowed by Joanne's violent overreaction. "The girls, they talk and they know the words to say and I lost the script, forgot my lines. Maybe they dug into my brain and they pulled them out, or maybe they were just never learned to start with. It's blurry."

Joanne starred at River absolutely horrified. "What the hell . . ."

"I'm sorry," River said again. "If you lend me a script I'll read off it. I can memorize real fast."

"I . . ." Joanne said. "I think my mom's calling me."

"No, she's not," River offered helpfully.
"Yeah, I think she is," Joanne insisted. "She's calling all us girls. You can stay with Jack."

"All, all right," River said softly. She'd been lied to before, she didn't know why this particular lie made her feel so bad, like she was stupid and silly and just not good enough.

"Katie, Miri, come on," Joanne ordered. The girls looked at their older sister curiously, but followed her lead as she turned and started heading back towards their house.

River heard a thud as Jack jumped from his precarious position on the fence post and landed slightly behind her. "I really am sorry," River said. "I want to be fixed but they took a way the tools."

Jack laughed, but not meanly. "You're really different."

"I'd like to be the same," River said honestly. "But I've never matched."

"The same is boring," Jack said, scrunching his nose. "Joanne's the same as every other girl in this town and she's boring."

"She's not like Kaylee," River observed. "Kaylee's from this town."

"Kaylee was different too," Jack said, slipping his hand into hers and, with that leverage, turning them both back towards his Uncle Collin's. "Now come on, we wanna finish that doll ta give ta your friend Zoë, don' we?"

"You don't think I'm crazy?" River asked, not defensively but rather curiously.

"'Cours you're crazy," Jack laughed. "Crazy wonderful."

"That, that doesn't . . ." River began.

"I mean," Jack went on, "The way ya danced last night, and the way you talk and the way you do, well, everythin', it's all different from everybody else. It's all crazy, but it's all pretty wonderful too."

River stared at the boy, overwhelmed by how earnestly he meant everything he'd just said. For the first time in her life she didn't have a thing to say. Even since the Academy, since she'd become confused, she'd still had something to say, regardless of whether or not anyone else understood. But now, looking at Jack's very deep brown eyes, she was dumbstruck.

"Hey, there, kids!" Wash said, drawing Jack's attention and startling River so badly that she screeched, stumbled back a few steps and finally took a somewhat defensive position behind Jack.

"He's a tattle-tale," She whispered harshly into the boy's ear. "He'll tell the big people and we'll have our tongues cut out."

"It's ok, River," Wash said, holding his hands up as if to prove they weren't blue. "I promise not to tell anyone anything that will lead to your tongue being cut out," the pilot couldn't help but wince at the thought.

Jack, as soon as he got over the initial shock of hearing her scream, and his brain had processed what exactly it was she'd said, laughed. "You're such a nut," he said playfully.

"You think I'm joking," River said, a little defensively.

"Well," Jack asked, his smile slipping just a little, "Ain't cha?"

"Of course she is," Wash quickly said, stepping forward and pulling River out from behind the boy. She moved jerkily, like a marionette or a rag doll, but without a struggle. "That's just what we call her up on the ship, crazy, joking River."

"You don't . . ." The girl started softly, looking up at Wash with a curious expression that reminded him very much of Simon.

"You two look so good together," Wash said, overpowering the girl's protests as he deposited River right next to Jack. "Like one of those old pictures, you know?"

"Why not a newish picture?" Jack asked.

"Well I guess you guys look like one a them too," Wash replied a little deflated. "Just old ones are, ya know, quainter." Neither Jack nor River seemed entirely taken by Wash's arguments. He switched tracks. "Where you two headed?"

"Collin' an' Margie's," Jack said. "River's gonna stuff the doll she made with sawdust."

"You made a doll?" Wash asked. "Can I see it?"

"It's for the baby," River said, shoving her left hand, which had been holding the doll since they left Jack's home, behind her back. "It's a surprise."

"You can show it to me," Wash insisted, "The baby'll still be surprised."

"Go on," Jack insisted, nudging the girl encouragingly with his elbow, "Show 'im."

Timidly, River raised the floppy construction up for Wash to examine.

"River, this is adorable," Wash said, his voice sounded surprised, as if he half expected the girl to sew a doll with too many arms or a horribly misshapen head. "And you're gonna put saw dust in it?"

The girl nodded.

"Neat," He said, handing the doll back to River. "I promise not to tell Zoë about it."

"We don't need to surprise Zoë," River said softly. "We need to surprise the baby."

"I don't see that as being too hard," Wash muttered, then added, "Why don't you take my advice and just keep it a secret from Zo? I'll tell you when ta give it to her."

River turned to Jack and whispered in his ear, clearly not wanting Wash to know her thoughts: "Is that a good idea?"

"Yeah," Jack said, smiling back at her. "Probably. I don't know 'bout baby stuff."

"Ok," River said, eyeing Wash shrewdly. "I'll trust you. But if you tell the big people . . ."

"Not really an issue," Wash assured her, once more demonstrating that his hands were not blue in the least. "Hey, I won't even tell Simon."

"Simon," River said, her brow wrinkling, "Why would you?"

"I, ah," Wash said a little awkwardly. "I wouldn't."

*   *   *

"Yeah, yeah," Kaylee grunted as she pushed herself out from under the R-8-30 engine.  "That's what'll happen when ya drive a hover boat on land.  Ain't ment ta go over lumps, just nice smooth water."

                "But can ya fix it, Kay?" Henderson Ringwood asked, leaning down so that their faces were pretty much parallel. 

                "I could," Kaylee said, pushing herself into a sitting position.  "But I don't much see the point.  Your just gonna break it again."

                "Swear I won't," Henderson said, putting his hand over his chest and holding his arm up.  "Swear on the Holy Bible."

                Kaylee sighed. "Ya know, I wouldn't even be doin' this 'cept I love your hover boat so much.  It's too good a machine for an old loser like you."

                "Yeah," Henderson said softly from low in his throat. 

                "'Sides the 'bout thirty rips ya got on the pad here," Kaylee said pushing herself up and away from the hover boat, "your equalizer's shot.  And I can't just fix it, it's been rerouted and cross wired so many times that there ain't hardly nothin' left."

                "You oughtn't a gone on that ship, Kay," Henderson said, out of the blue.

                "What?" Kaylee slurred, turning her head, only vaguely aware of what he'd said. 

                "You should have stayed here, Kay," Henderson asserted, stepping closer to her.  "The town misses you."

                "And I miss the town," Kaylee said, sweeping a loose wisp of hair behind her ears.  "Ain't nothin' so nice as comin' home."

                "Ya should stay," Henderson said, taking yet another step forward. "Town ain't the same without cha."

                "That ain't true," Kaylee laughed, a little nervously, turning back to the hover boat so she could pretend to examine it further.  "I get waves from my folks.  All the same people doin' all the same things."

                "Well, it don't feel the same," Henderson said, taking still another step closer. 

She could practically feel his breath on her neck.  It was annoying, he was annoying.  He was the boy next door, literally, and she may have liked him when she was younger, when her world was smaller, but now she looked at him and couldn't help but see a cocky hick who liked not having to learn anything new, not having to try anything different, not having to suffer, even a little, regardless of the pay off.  "Get back, Henderson," Kaylee growled over her shoulder, "We ain't like that, haven't been for a long time."

                "Seein' ya again Kay," he said, putting his hand's on her waist, pressing his body inappropriately close to her.  "It's makin' me crazy.  I didn't know what I was missin' 'till it was gone."

                "And I didn't know what I was lakin' 'till I hade it," Kaylee said forcefully, turning herself around and grabbing Henderson's wrists so she could pull them off her waist. 

                "What would that be?" Henderson asked seductively, clearly not reading her mood.

                Kaylee opened her mouth to tell him that she'd found a big, wonderful universe full of people who were smart enough to take care of their hover boats, and clever enough to see when a girl wasn't interested, and kind enough to not try and rekindle old flames, especially when they were the ones to dump water on the fire in the first place so they could chase after a pretty blond girl from across town who was three years younger.  That's exactly what she was going to say, but she didn't.  Because as soon as she opened her mouth, she saw Simon poke his head around the door and into the workshop.  His mouth was open, as if he has been about to say something, probably call her to dinner, but what he saw chased all those words from his mind.  He just stood there, wide eyed, slack jawed, trying to think of what to do next.   

                "Simon," Kaylee said, pushing herself away from Henderson and running over to the doctor, who'd finally managed to take a deep breath, close his mouth, and blush.

                "I, ah, I didn't realize . . ." he stuttered, taking a few steps back, away from the door.  "If, if you were . . ."

                "He's an old friend," Kaylee tried to explain as Simon continued to inch away from her.

                "A friend?"
                "Just a friend," Kaylee said.  "I mean, we were once . . . but now, now he's . . . he's not even a friend.  I was doin' him a favor 'cause I like his boat."

                "His boat?" Simon laughed bitterly.  "What kind of favor?"

                "Fixin' it" Kaylee explained.

                "Fixing his boat?" Simon nodded, his voice squeaked a little.

                "No," Kaylee gasped, exasperated.  "The hover boat, idiot don't know enough ta keep it on the water.  And don't you go findin' innuendo in that!"

                Simon looked at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching a little.  She thought he looked hurt and frustrated and a little angry.  She wanted to walk up to him and squeeze his arm and ask 'what's the matter baby?' but she knew that would only make things worse.  Besides, she knew what was the matter was.

                "You're mother wants you," he said stoically staring at her.  "Dinner's almost ready; she needs you to . . ." he faltered a little, his eyes drifting to the ground.  "She didn't say why she needed you.  She just wanted me to let you know."

                "Right," Kaylee sighed.  She didn't even turn to say goodbye to Henderson, who had gotten as far as he was going to get on the virtue of owning and neglecting a hover boat.  She pushed past Simon in a huff and started heading towards the back of her house where the long tables were set up for yet another community dinner.  She'd gone nearly five paces before she realized that she wasn't being followed.  "Ain't cha comin'?" She demanded, spinning around, her loose whips of hair falling right in the middle of her face in the most annoying way.

                "I was going to go find River," Simon said, a little tersely, "If that's all right."

                "River'll be at dinner," Kaylee practically yelled.  "You've been away from her all day, I don't think couple more minutes is gonna kill either a ya."

                "Forgive me for caring about my severely traumatized sister," Simon snapped.

                "I do," Kaylee replied.  "All the time!"

                Simon looked at her, his eyes were cold and hard and unmistakably hurt.  But he didn't yell, he just shook his head and sighed before turning and walking away.  Kaylee felt suddenly cold. 

                "Stupid Simon," Kaylee muttered as she turned back to her house.  "Assumes stuff, don't ask, obsessed with crazy River.  Might as well run back ta Henderson, least he likes me right now."  But then, Simon did like her, he'd said as much, while he was sober nonetheless.  And he'd said more too.  She could remember, very clearly, him saying 'I respect you.'  That was something that none of the boys in town or the men that had come to port had ever told her.  Simon was the only one who saw in her something that deserved respect, and she knew enough about men, and about herself, to know just how much that was worth.

                "Stupid Simon," she said again, wiping hot tears out of the corners of her eyes with her jumpsuit before she reached the yard and her mother could see that she'd been crying, or at least been almost crying.  "Stupid, stupid Simon."

To Be Continued . . .