HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER

He had a reputation for being a bit of a rogue, the famous dalgos rider. He did the most impressive tricks and raced faster than anyone in the history of the fetes of the beast riders. He also had the notoriety of racing away with the women's hearts. Although he really was rather shy. His heart only ever belonged to the fruit merchant's daughter. ~ DK

…

Shara remembered sitting here at the bar a year ago on the first night of salt and light. "So there wasn't anything from a holonet retailer called Harbor Wears?"

Maris shook her head, thinking. "Seems like I do remember seein' a package with your name on it, but Lana came down and picked up everything that was delivered here for the Hold yesterday."

"She didn't tell me about anything…"

Maris's eyes opened wide. "Maybe I wasn't supposed to mention it!"

Shara smiled. "I won't tell her you told me. Anyway I couldn't have used the new wetsuit till the thaw. Though they are taking their sweet time about it. That's not why I came in anyway." She reached into her bag and pulled out a, still warm from the oven, pie. "Happy salt and light!"

"It smells amazing!"

"It'll be even better with some of that Blu Whip that your father-in-law likes to spray on the caff. We didn't get any fruits from the greenhouse yet but we did get one big squash. It was big enough that I got two pies out of it."

"Aww, thanks, Shara, for thinkin' of us," said Maris.

"Oh but," Shara suddenly worried. "Maybe you shouldn't if you think you might be… One of the herbs I used has been known to cause problems with unborn…"

"You don't have to worry about that." Maris blushed before she could go on. And then said in a whisper even though the bar was empty. "I got the hypo. Ness and I agreed we'd wait a bit before we start trying for a little one."

Shara must have looked confused. She'd never really considered such a thing. She knew that she was the reason her own parents had married and the main reason she had married Sanjay was to produce an heir.

"You don't think there's somethin' wrong with that, do you?" Maris asked defensively.

"No." Shara hurried to assure her. "Just being the two of you, without all that pressure? It sounds… nice."

She might have to discuss this with Jamos, if she could work up the nerve. She still hadn't talked to him about what he thought of her past, like Lana had suggested a couple of months ago at Maris's wedding.

…

She was so busy examining the beautifully arranged shells on the cover of the sailors' valentine Jamos had given her that Shara hadn't even realized there was still another present left to open. He must have been paying attention to how much she admired Lana's collection of the octagon shaped boxes. Shara knew just what she wanted to keep inside it: the silk net binding cloth that was a reminder of her being caught up with Jamos.

"This last one wasn't really meant to be a salt and light gift…" Lana's voice drew Shara back to the present. "But it arrived just in time so I commed Edda and asked if she minded if I saved it to give it to you tonight. She said that would be alright, and she wants to hear from you some time."

"This is from Edda?" Shara reached out to take the box from Lana. It wasn't wrapped in the bright colored paper like the other gifts. It was just the plain brown flimsy of a shipping package. "How sweet of her to think of me."

"What is it?"Jamos asked, sliding closer to her on the couch to see.

"Looks like a journal of some kind." She shrugged as surprised as any of them. "I didn't know anybody but Melaana kept one of these anymore."

"Whose is it?" Marlon asked.

Lana smiled. "Or does she expect you to have enough adventures to keep one of your own?"

"Already had a few adventures, haven't we?" Jamos winked at her.

"It came with a note." Shara held it up and then scanned it wistfully before she read it aloud. "She says, 'I finally got the chance to go through the last of the boxes from your father's house and I came upon this journal that belonged to your mother.' It was my mother's!"

She looked around at them all with pure joy. Then she swallowed and went back to the note. "'I must apologize for the scribbles inside the front cover. Bremon has been teaching Saw to write runes and he left his pens out where his little sister could reach them. You'll just have to count that as Steela's addition to the original. And Saw wanted to show you what he's been learning as well'."

Shara held out the note so they could see the carefully penned runes that ran across the bottom of the page from right to left that spelled out, "Sawyer Drokko Gerrera."

"Oh that's sweet." Lana gushed. "I never learned the runes as well as I should. I hope you'll help me teach Dalla when she's old enough."

"Of course I will." Shara nodded and opened the book. It was just written in plain Aurebesh and the pages weren't nearly as full as she would have liked, but she knew she would treasure every word. It had been a long time but she still recognized the extra little swirls that denoted her mother's original handwriting.

She flipped through the pages. Hadassa Cornel Rupingwood hadn't been as consistent with her writing as Mel had always been.

"Will you read it to us?" Jamos asked. "I'd like to hear more about your mother. I'm sure we all would."

Marlon and Lana both agreed.

"Looks like she didn't write down everything. I'll have to fill in from the stories my father told me and things I've guessed about her. Although my mother was a bit of a nexu when she was young so there are bits of it that probably won't be appropriate for Dalla to hear."

The one and a half year old looked up at the sound of her name, "Dalla hear!"

"Aye, you hear everything, don't you?" Her mother scooped her up from her pile of presents. "And you repeat everything too. It's time for you to go to bed."

The little girl pouted and let loose with a howl of indignation.

"Awww Chirn Bait, you've gotta get your rest." Jamos encouraged her. "You wanna go swimming in the hot spring tomorrow for water night with me and Aunt Shara?" He winked back over his shoulder. He'd been calling her that lately, maybe trying to get Dalla used to the moniker.

"JaJa an' Sasa swim!"

"That's right! So off to bed with you."

It still took some doing to get her in PJs, a story, a song, a cup of water, but finally the adults were alone and ready for Shara to begin her tale.

…

She was the reckless one. When she was supposed to be working the fruit stand at the fete, she would have much rather run around with friends and see the events. But that required avoiding her cousin Grigori who had been sent out to look for her and one rather amorous admirer.

In her flight, Hadassa ducked into a tent. She has no idea who it belonged to, but she noticed, as she surveyed her surroundings, that it was set up with sort of a barn stall on one side and a sleeping space for a rider on the other.

The side reserved for the dalgos was in perfect order, with clean, fresh straw, blankets and brushes laid out neatly. Every comfort was accounted for, with no expense spared for the animal.

The other side was a complete mess. Pieces of riding costumes were strewn everywhere, along with discarded racing numbers and junk food wrappers.

Hadassa had nearly guessed who the tent might belong to when she heard a commotion outside. Girls voices were talking and giggling. Then she heard a dalgos snort and a male voice telling them that he couldn't possibly go with them because Castor needed a brush and a rest before the big race. Finally they seemed to break up and wander away disappointedly.

Kason Rupingwood pushed the tent flap open and lead the dalgos in. He didn't even see her at first, being so focused on caring for his mount and complimenting Castor's performance.

"That's right, Boy!" The rider crooned. "You were magnificent! And we got away from that gaggle of girls, didn't we?"

Hadassa cleared her throat to get his attention. "It seems you weren't entirely successful there."

Kason jumped but covered his surprise with a grin. "No, it would appear that one of them caught up with us."

"Well I wouldn't go so far as to say that I was one of them. I was evading my own pursuers when I found myself here." She admitted.

Kason went back to brushing the dalgos nonchalantly, "Oh? And what were you running from then?"

Hadassa frowned. "My father for one. Would you believe he wants me to work a fruit stand on this beautiful day and miss all the festivities?"

"That is tragic." He offered. "So you managed to get away to see the trick riding exhibition?"

"No," she was honestly disappointed. "I was trying get away from that so called artist, Balthazar."

Kason looked at her more critically. "He wants to paint you?" He turned back to the dalgos with a smirk. "I'd buy a painting of you."

"He wants me to pose with no clothes on." She said dryly meaning to shock him.

He only shrugged, though she thought she might have caught a blush rise in his complexion. "I'd pay extra for that."

Hadassa called his bet and raised the stakes. "Well what if I wasn't really running away from him? What if I was just looking for a place where I could do my modeling more discreetly?"

Kason looked around the tent. "Not much of an artist's studio but if you wanted to keep away from prying eyes…"

"You mean you wouldn't mind if I told Balthazar to meet me here, tonight?" She was joking, wasn't she?

He smiled at her. "You think I would say no to having a beautiful, naked girl in my tent and stifle the cause of great art?"

Hadassa wasn't going to back down now. "Alright. I'll tell him I'll be here tonight after the race."

"Not during the race, while everyone is down at the track?" He asked.

She shrugged, not looking at him. "Well, I didn't get to see the famous Castor at the trick riding exhibition. I wouldn't want to miss seeing him perform again." Not to mention Castor's famous rider, "And besides I think it might be a good idea to have an objective witness here while Balthazar is working, just to make sure he doesn't try anything funny."

"I could be objective." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "...and you'd better believe I'm not going to let him try anything."

Hadassa decided. "Alright. So I guess I should put in some time at the fruit stand so father will let me off for the race and … after."

Kason nodded.

She approached the animal and rider and reached out to pet Castor before she left the tent.

"Wait! You might not want to!" Kason started to stop her. "He can be kind of shy of strangers."

Hadassa took a jogan out of a pocket in her skirt and offered it to the dalgos before stroking his muzzle. "Good luck at the race tonight,Boy."

Kason smirked. "Are you going to wish me luck tonight too?"

She smiled coyly back at him. "Does the great Kason Rupingwood need my wishes to get lucky?"

"Your consent perhaps?" He looked as if he would like to kiss her right then but restrained himself. "And your name? I don't even know who you are."

"Hadassa Cornel, daughter of the fruit merchant." With a sigh she made her way to the tent flap.

"Hadassa." He repeated the name as if it was a line of music.

"Till tonight, then?" Dxun! What has she gotten herself into?

"Till tonight."

…

Hadassa sucked down great gulps of air as soon as she had left the tent. She felt as if she had been holding her breath for the entire conversation with the rider. But she didn't have much time to collect herself before one of her pursuers caught up with her.

"Ah, there is the loveliest lady at the fete." Balthazar took her hand and kissed her cheek before she could stop him. "Please tell me that you have reconsidered my offer and you will consent to be my model for my next great work of art."

She didn't think he really expected her to but she surprised him. "Actually I have."

"You- you have?"

"Yes." She sped on before she lost her nerve. "If you would care to meet me here." She gestured at the tent behind her. "Tonight after the dalgos race, I would be honored to model for one of your paintings."

"Oh, beautiful Hadassa! You don't know how happy this makes me!" He impetuously kissed her cheek again before he started to run off, calling back to her, "so little time to get all of my tools prepared!"

"You're not really gonna let him paint you?" Hadassa turned to see the wide-eyed boy of twelve who had uttered the question in disbelief. It was her little cousin Grigori. And he wasn't so little anymore, she realized. He had shot up several inches this summer and was nearly as tall as she was.

He could make trouble if he told her father about her plans.

"What?" She strode towards the courtyard where the food merchants had set up their trade. "You mean am I going to let him take a brush and apply color to my skin? No, of course not." She laughed. "He won't even touch me. He'll be on the other side of the room behind his easel."

"But he'll be looking at you. I've seen the way he looks at you." The poor boy seemed honestly concerned.

"Grigori, he's an artist. They look at things. It's how they create their art. And you don't have to worry because I'm going to have a friend there the whole time making sure all he does is look."

He still looked unsure. "Do you swear?"

"Dxun drexls take me for a liar." She crossed her heart.

Grigori Tandin, keeper of the straight and narrow, nodded grudgingly.

"Now Grig, you've got to promise me you won't tell mother and father about this."

"What? If there's nothing wrong with it, why can't you tell them about it?"

She was afraid she'd lost him, so she thought fast. "Well, that's just it. What if this painting turns out to be really great and I want to give it to them as a gift? I would want that to be a surprise, right?"

"Yyyeah." He stretched out the affirmative.

"And I'll make you a fruit cake!"

"Yeah, alright." He smiled.

"Thanks, Grig! I'll never forget this!" She hugged him and raced off to her family's fruit stand to put in her time.

…

"I don't have to be completely naked in the painting?" Hadassa called out from behind the curtain that had been hung up to give the model a measure of privacy while she undressed. Not that it would matter much when she stepped out from behind it and revealed herself to the two pairs of waiting eyes. (three if she counted Castor)

"Not if you don't wish to." Balthazar's voice answered. "I want you to feel perfectly comfortable."

She was beginning to have second thoughts. It was one thing to expose herself to these two men for a few minutes but the idea that her image would be forever fixed on canvas in oils and pigment was a little more daunting. She grabbed up a piece of white cloth from the floor. It appeared to be one of Kason's discarded shirts. Then she took a deep breath and self-consciously left her hiding place.

She glanced at the painter but he seemed preoccupied with preparing his palate. So her gaze turned to Kason. She expected him to be smiling, mocking her, but instead he looked nearly as nervous as she felt. And he kept shooting angry glances over at Balthazar behind his easel.

Finally the artist noticed her and motioned towards a vase of tall flowers. "Ah here you are. Just stand there please."

Hadassa went to stand where she was told, in profile to Balthazar. With one arm covering her breast and the other holding the shirt so that it hung in front of everything else important, she felt decently shielded from his point of view.

The other gentleman in the room, however was nearly directly in front of her. To him she was almost completely exposed. She wondered if he knew it was his shirt she was using as a covering. He must. She couldn't look him in the eye and dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Beautiful." Said Balthazar, but not as if he meant anything by it. "Just stay where you are." He held up one hand to remind her to hold that position and began sketching furiously with the other.

Soon he had switched from pencil to paint and brush. And then almost before Hadassa believed he could possibly be finished he made one more swipe with his instrument and laid it down in the tray. "There!"

"It's about kriffing time." Kason got up from his seat, but before he went to see how the painting had turned out, he went to Hadassa and hurriedly took the shirt from her hand and helped her to put it on. He was as gentle as she had seen him be earlier that day when he was caring for his dalgos. "You looked cold," he said quietly.

"Did I?" She asked.

"Yes. You've got nunabumps."

"Do I?"

Before he could answer Balthazar called them both over to survey his masterpiece.

"Is that really me?" Hadassa stared disbelieving at the girl on the canvas.

"Most beautiful girl at the fete!" The painter repeated his previous assertion. But he wasn't looking at her anymore, he seemed to have fallen in love with the work of his own hands.

Kason grunted. "Well, you're done. You can gather your things and clear out."

Hadassa looked at him, shocked by the outburst.

Balthazar, however didn't seem to have noticed. "You are quite right. I have taken up enough of your time." He had already started packing up his things, wiping off brushes and closing tubes of paint.

Kason was impatient for the other man to go but Hadassa, pulling the shirt tighter around herself with one hand, thought she should say something. "Thank you, Balthazar for…"

"Oh no, thank you, my dear!" He took her free hand. "You were a brilliant model." He started to lean in to kiss her cheek as he had done before.

Kason threw an arm out before he could make contact. "Alright, enough of that." He had promised to make sure that the artist didn't try anything. He watched Balthazar with a ruping's stare until every last artist's tool was packed away and the painter picked up his canvas and easel and said his goodbyes.

Hadassa could have gone and gotten dressed while this was going on but she was almost afraid that Kason might throw a punch if the other man wasn't moving fast enough. And as soon as he was gone the rider turned to her with a guilty expression.

"Are you alright?" He asked as if she had just come through some great ordeal.

"Yes, of course." She shook her head not understanding.

Kason reached out and touched her face gently. "I've half a mind to go out there and stop him and take that painting and burn it."

"You didn't like it?" She covered his hand with her own. His felt cool against the blush of her cheek.

"It was beautiful… just like you."

Her heart hammered in her chest.

"I just… I never want to share that image of you with anyone ever again. Hadassa, I…" His lips met hers with a desperate urgency. And she was swept away in the passion of his embrace.

…

She couldn't be sure if it had happened that night or the next or the night after that. Hadassa had sneaked out of her family's tent every evening of the fete after the night of the painting to be with Kason. And then on the last day, they had said their goodbyes.

"Only for a little while." He had promised. It was a contracted tour. The riding circuit wouldn't wait. But Kason had promised, "As soon as the last show is over, I will come back for you."

He was earning good credits, riding. He'd be able to show her parents that he was capable of supporting the two of them and, and…

Her father and mother told her that he'd never stick around. He was as wild and untamed and dangerous as his mounts. They were sure it was only a phase she was going through when she watched the holos of him with such love in her eyes.

She was still trying to think of a creative way to tell him. None of the holo greetings she'd seen so far put it in quite the right words.

She was looking for… oh, I don't know… something about a daddy dalgos? Or maybe she could record herself singing the song Child Loves His Father? But what if she was having a girl? Would that matter?

Hadassa found herself humming the song at odd moments. Maybe that's how her mother first realized.

However it was they found out, her parents didn't want the dalgos rider anywhere near the baby. If they had their way he would have never even been told that Hadassa was carrying his child. They confiscated her personal comm unit and forbade her from contacting him. Not that something like that had ever been much of a deterrent before.

"Kason." He wasn't answering his comm. Maybe he was in hyperspace somewhere or maybe her parents were right and he really had moved on. She couldn't believe that so she went on with the recording. "I had to sneak away. They didn't want me to tell you but you have the right to know. I didn't want to tell you like this. I wanted it to be a happy moment we'd always remember because, well, I'm pregnant."

Tears sprang to her eyes but she didn't want him to see. She stopped the recording to collect herself and then resumed. "I don't want you to feel obligated. If you can't, if you don't want…" she swallowed back a sob and blinked her eyes several times. "What I'm trying to say is that we'll be taken care of. Mother and father have arranged for me to marry a widower. He has other children, fourteen I believe."

She made an attempt to laugh it off. "Flints. What can I say? He says he doesn't mind that I'm having one of my own. In fact he was rather glad that he might be able to stop paying for a wet nurse for his youngest when I can…" here she couldn't help but break into a sob as hard as she was trying not to. "So you see, I… we'll…" She ended the recording and sent it before she could think twice.

…

Shara stopped reading. She flipped back a few pages and then returned to the page where she had been. "Oh."

"Is that all there is?" Lana asked, sitting figuratively and literally on the edge of her seat.

"No there's…" Shara looked around at each of them and then, her own eyes shining with tears, her gaze returned to the page. "She wrote a letter to her baby."

Shara read the words silently to herself and then closed the book. She didn't feel like she could share something so precious.

It was Jamos who finally spoke up. "She wanted you to know who your real father was some day, in case she was forced to marry that Flint?"

Shara nodded.

"But you did know him." Marlon observed. "Things worked out for the two of them after all."

"Aye." She beamed, shedding a few happy tears. "He dropped everything, the tour, his whole career. He showed up at my grandparents' door and begged them to let him marry her. He said he'd do anything for her and the child… me."

"How romantic." Lana smiled.

Shara laughed. "It wasn't all sunshine and roses. My grandfather expected him to earn his keep and learn the family business. Once he made up his mind to, my father worked hard everyday of his life to prove himself worthy of my mother."

Jamos caught her eye and Shara could almost see him asking what he must do to be worthy of her. She looked away with a sigh. "And then the sickness came," she continued with the story. "My father was immune somehow but he could guess how bad it was going to be. He wanted to take Mother and I north before the quarantine was set up but then my grandparents got sick and she wouldn't leave them. It was the only time they ever argued."

Shara looked down at her hands wondering if she should tell them. Down south there was such a stigma for those who had suffered the Dalgos Flu but maybe they didn't know. She decided it was best just to be honest. "And then I got sick." She hurried on. "Father wouldn't leave my side. He hardly noticed when they brought him word that my grandparents had died and my mother was taking the last lonely walk behind their coffins. She came home after it was over and he was so happy to tell her that my fever had broken and she… she smiled for a moment before she… collapsed. He barely caught her before she hit the floor."

Shara looked down and realized that Jamos was holding her hand. She looked him right in the eyes as she told the rest. "She was in and out of consciousness for a week, always asking about me when ever she was awake enough, and apologizing that she hadn't gone North with him when he suggested it. As I got better she got worse. And I remember waking up one morning feeling fine and I got out of bed and I asked him, 'Today, Father, can we go for a ride?' It had been so long since I had been on a dalgos. But he was crying and he said, 'No, Sweetheart, today we're going to go for a walk'."

Jamos pulled her into his arms and let her cry. When her sobs subsided he guided her to her feet and without a word, led her to her bedroom. The alarm on her door had long ago been disabled.

"That's her." He said in a reverent whisper, nodding at the painting that was hanging on her wall.

"Aye." Shara nodded, resting against him. "Do you think she can see? Do you think she knows that I'm… happy here…" with you?

"Aye, she knows." He turned her to face him and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He looked as if he wanted to speak. Maybe he wanted to ask her again. Maybe he thought it wasn't the right time. Maybe he was afraid she still wasn't ready. Maybe in that moment she would have said yes…

Instead he kissed her forehead. "She knows."

…

A couple of notes about Shara's bittersweet flashback:

First a fun fact: One of those fourteen Flint children who would have been Shara's step brother, grew up and got married and had a family of his own. He named his third daughter, Werda.

And B: the paintings described in this chapter are based on actual works of art by a painter named Robert Coombs. The painting of Shara and her mother is titled, 'Safety'. I'm not sure of the title of Hadassa's more risque modeling endeavor (which is still tasteful as far as art goes) if you care to Google them. The works of Robert Coombs and another American Figurative panter named Daniel Gerhartz have been inspirational in how both LS and I imagine the look of Shara and several other of the characters from this story.

Thank you so much for reading and please drop us a review or comment or check out the forum for lots more fun info about the characters and setting of Polaris!