It was raining when she came back three days later. Not that that was news for Aberdeen, but she was again completely soaked, like the drowned Phoenician Sailor. He didn't know why that image came to mind. Water plastered her hair against her body in a haphazard sort of way. Water streaked her face and rolled off of her forehead and the tip of her nose.

"Can I stay?" her voice said. Her eyes said something different--something about an infinite sadness that he couldn't quite translate then. He put it aside for later and concentrated on the one thing he did know.

Monty almost laughed in relief. "Of all the stupid questions!" He pulled her in and clung to her for dear life. "Now I have a stupid question for you."

"No, Monty, please don't ask. I'd tell you if I could, but it's not just about me."

He stroked her hair with what he hoped was reassurance that he didn't know how to put into words. "I've got ta ask you this one question. The rest doesn't matter a whit. Will you marry me, Lesa?"

She nodded, yes.

He pulled her in against his chest. It was many minutes later that Monty realized the rain was still blowing in on them and maybe he should close the door.

They lay in bed warming each other. It was the oddest thing. No one would have called it sex, but it felt like making love all the same. "Do you want to call your family?" Monty massaged her back.

She stiffened.

"You know, to tell them about the wedding. I have university rates on my comm--it's not bad at all."

"Your family is a close knit one. Not all of them are." She turned her head away and bundled her hair to the side as if to let him work on her neck.

"Well, this is different--their only daughter getting' married." Monty paused, considering how little he really knew about her. "Are you their only daughter?"

"Actually, I have two sisters."

Monty began to knead her neck. "I never heard you mention them. But I suppose, as you say, if you're not close."

In fact, her words had been that 'some families' aren't close.

"I still think they'd want to come," said Monty.

"Don't make guesses when you don't have the facts. They're different than your kinfolk. They wouldn't come."

"Well, they won't if you dinnae ask."

"They won't."

"They don't approve of me, is that it? I know it doesn't look like much now, but I have good prospects not just at Aberdeen but at any Federation University. I've already won two grants and been offered more positions than I could take in a lifetime."

"It's not you; it's me," she said. "Like I told you, not all families can be close." He voice was wavering dangerously and she looked away at the last word.

"Okay," he said changing the subject. "And I am sorry about that."

"Me too." She reached back and squeezed his hand. "But I was hoping maybe I could borrow your family for the occasion."

He stroked his hands down her neck to the tops of her shoulders. "My family is your family now. But I hope you aren't thinking of anything as temporary as borrowing." He cupped her shoulders and swirled fingertips around the top ribs and the mysterious region where chest miraculously transforms itself into breast.

She laughed through her nose, but little humor came through. "No such luck. I'm afraid that you're stuck with me now."

"Praise be," he said and lay down beside her giving up his erstwhile sincere attempts at massage.

For a while, things were nearly normal. She was accepted to the university environmental design program and spent most of her days at school and all of her nights at the apartment. She had an inarguable eye and talent for design and her mentors held out great hopes for her.

She never took a painting class or went back to painting again. It was as if that little part of her had died.

Monty asked her about it once. She'd answered sharply enough that he had known better than to raise the subject again. It wasn't the same without her old brushes, she'd said. They'd been made just for her and were special.

As odd as women were, Monty found that evasion hard to believe.

Still, he'd taken her at her word. He'd offered to have a set custom made, ergonomically designed for her. Anything she wanted. He'd hoped that going back to painting would give her back that ineffable spark. That it would fix whatever had been ruined by the crash over Dornoch.

She'd just given him that moron look again and he'd left her alone with her design texts.

So, where should we go for the honeymoon?" Monty asked as they lay intertwined on the sofa. "Anywhere you want. You'd never been in space before. We could go to Andor--or how about Cyrillius VI? You'd love the oceans there."

"Wherever," she said. "They both sound lovely."

"We'll have to put a rush on your passport then. If you go for the genotests tomorrow we might just get it in time."

"Genotests?"

"Aye. You'll need to submit a DNA specimen as positive id for your passport. Don't worry; it doesn't hurt."

"Maybe we should stay closer to home. School is so hectic, I hate to lose more travel time." She looked away to the sofa back with that same hopeless timbre to her voice.

"Ireland? We could go see the places that John talked about. Visit his family if you like--" His voice trailed off, but he kept his eyes glued to her head.

"No." She shook her hair firmly and turned back to him. She took his hand. "I want to get away with you, but let's keep it on Earth, okay?"

"Maybe Thailand? They have lovely beaches."

"Not the beach," said Lesa. "I was thinking mountains."

"But you love the ocean." Monty massaged her hand "I thought you might like it with some sunshine for once. You haven't been the same since you stopped going--painting."

Lesa shrugged. "People change; I changed. I don't want to be around the sea. I'd really like to see the mountains. I want to go as high as you can go on earth: Mount Everest. I want to go all the way to the top of the world." She rolled over onto his stomach and held her face very close to his. "Can we afford it?"

Monty tickled the back of her knee. "Aye, I can work out the fee easy enough, but I'd prefer nae to be spending our honeymoon in biosuits." He kissed her once and again. And again. And again. Somewhere in there he lost track.

"How about Kilimanjaro?" he asked when they finally broke apart. "No biosuits and they provide private envirotents."

"How far is it from the coast?" she asked.

"I don't know. Pretty far inland, I think. We can look it up in the morning if you want, but the area isn't known for seafood, if that's what you mean."

"Sounds good," she said and rolled him over and on top of her. "Can we stay for a whole week?"