Chapter 14: Judgments

From the top of the mountain, Hannah looked out at Howe Sound, rapture on her face. "How beautiful God's majesty is! Look at this, mom!"

"It's a gorgeous view," June agreed.

"It reminds me of Colorado Springs. There are mountains there, too. Cold in the winter, but so pretty."

She brushed the windswept hair out of her daughter's face, relieved to be having a normal conversation with her. Hannah was beginning to loosen up; the look on her face wasn't as judgmental as it had been that morning. "Would you like to live in mountains? Or on the coast, or in a city?"

"Not in a city. Too many Guardians, too much…." Danger, she wanted to say. Boston had too many sirens, arrests, particicutions, criminals hanging from trees with their tongues lolling. "Too many people."

Nichole threw her stuffed panda on the ground. "Wanna go home."

"Aren't you having fun, Nichole?" Jules asked her. He was completely charmed by the toddler, and had taken over as her caregiver. He picked up the fallen teddy bear before it fell off the cliff.

"No," she complained.

June turned her attention to her younger daughter. She was wearing a grumpy expression that June knew well. The 'I'm about to lose my shit and have a meltdown' expression. "You know what, baby? Let's have a snack. I've got some nice blueberry muffins here," she said quickly, rummaging through her backpack and tearing a package open. Store-bought muffins from the café where they'd stopped for a late lunch: hopefully tasty enough to placate a little girl who'd missed her nap.

Nichole looked interested, so June broke one muffin in half and offered it to her.

"Too big!" She burst into tears.

"Uh-oh," June muttered, looking at Nick. He—like the twins—looked flummoxed. Tears over trivial things usually preceded a temper tantrum.

Hannah decided to take charge, Gilead-style. She'd had plenty of childcare lessons in school: it was high time to put them into practice. "Nichole," she said firmly, channeling the voice of aunts who taught her, "if you don't stop crying, you're going to get whipped with a belt. Is that what you want?"

"Well, let's try a smaller piece of muffin first," June said briskly, ignoring Hannah's threat. She could talk to her elder daughter later about child abuse. She broke one piece of muffin apart. "Here you go, nice tiny pieces."

"Too small!" Nichole shrieked, now crying harder.

Nick started to laugh. June shot him a look. "Don't you dare."

He bit his lip, put on the neutral expression he usually wore in Gilead. After assessing the situation, he picked up his baby, held her face against his shoulder, wiped her tears, stroked her hair. The move worked on her mother, he figured. "Okay, Hollyberry," he soothed, "let's just walk quietly. Shh." He moved her away from the other children, then spoke in a whisper as soon as her sobs lessened. "Would you like some juice? Something cold for your throat?" He'd tried that once on her mother, too, when she was upset about the Mexican ambassador's visit. Would you like a glass of water?

"Uh-huh," Nichole sniffled. June rummaged through the diaper bag, handed Nick a sippy cup. After taking a few swallows, Nichole lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"She missed naptime," June murmured to him. Quietly, they all began walking again…towards the cars. Time to go back to the resort. The Secret Service agents trailed behind, silent as usual.

After a few minutes of silence, Nick stifled a sudden laugh. "Finally, I've figured out what was wrong with Serena." June quirked an eyebrow. "You remember how her mood could turn on a fucking dime? How nice she was when she thought you were pregnant, then what a monster she became when she realized you weren't?"

"Yeah."

"All she needed was a daily nap."

"Yeah," June agreed, deadpan. "That's all she needed."

Later that afternoon, Nick found Luke relaxing in a lounge chair, listening to the very-appropriate song "Stepping Stone" by Duffy, drinking something clear out of a goblet. Gin, vodka? He certainly deserved it, after last nights' humiliation. Nick tried to imagine how he would have felt if June had spent the night with Luke.

Maybe that's why Luke and Rose had ended up in bed this afternoon? Revenge? If that was their goal, they needn't have bothered; Nick wasn't even upset about it. He was glad, actually, that Rose was dipping her toes into the water of freedom. More than a toe, it seemed from that selfie. But he wasn't about to bring that subject up with Luke.

Nick's feelings towards June's husband were complex, but they mostly vacillated between remorse, guilt, and gratitude, the latter emotion having to do with Holly. Luke had raised that baby for the first year of her life, and had done a splendid job of it. A lesser man would have dumped the child in the foster care system, especially after learning how she was conceived. Nick would always owe him for taking such good care of Nick and June's child. Even bringing Hannah across to Canada didn't even the score, as far as he was concerned.

"Can I get you another?" Nick asked politely.

"D'you have any Canadian money?"

Good point. "Uh, no, not actually."

Luke laughed. "Well, okay then. Charge it to your room—I've charged all the other drinks to your room already. Tuello's gonna freak when he sees your bar tab. But I'll take another sparkling water. With lemon, if you please." He'd had enough alcohol for one day; he wasn't used to drinking liquor, but he'd pounded some serious tequila back with Rose. Besides that, he knew Hannah was lurking around, and—perhaps absurdly—wanted to stay sober in front of her. He felt judgment radiating out of the twelve year-old, particularly towards June and Nick. He hoped that Hannah would see him as a paragon of virtue by comparison. Luke knew it wasn't a competition, not really, but he still wanted to be in first place.

Nick sat down in the lounge chair next to him. He set drinks on a small stand. Coke for himself, Perrier for Luke. "She's really great," he began.

Luke just stared. "What the fuck are…are you trying to make me hate you?"

"Uh, no." Nick was confused at the non sequitur.

"I was married to her for thirteen years, okay? I know how great she is. You don't have to rub my nose in it. God damn."

Nick tried to keep a straight face. "I was talking about Hannah."

"Oh."

"Lemme start again. That daughter of yours, Hannah? She's a really great kid. Smart as a whip, funny, witty. It's hard to have a sense of humor in Gilead, but she's managed to keep hers."

"Thanks." Luke managed to look sheepish. "I might be a little bit touchy."

"Well," Blaine shrugged, "you have the right to be. I owe you an apology."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"For what?"

Nick took a sip of his drink before turning to look straight at Luke. "When I met June, she thought you were dead. A lot of our early conversations were about you, how much she missed you, what a great dad you'd been, how bravely you died. She mourned you for years."

"I wasn't brave at all. She wanted to run north weeks before I did; I was the one who insisted we stay put. If we'd left earlier, maybe none of this would've happened."

"Nah, you'd have been caught either way."

It was Luke's turn to shrug. "So what's the apology for? Pushing yourself on her when she was still in love with me?"

That's not at all what happened, but if it's easier for him to think that way…sure. "Yeah. We found out that you were still alive when June was, I don't know, about a month pregnant with Nichole. We could've ended things then. But we kept going." He didn't add that he'd actually tried to end their relationship; June was the one who insisted they carry on. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry that you had an affair with her?"

No. "Sorry that things got so complicated. There's no decision she can make now that won't hurt someone."

"You're sorry I lost her." He gulped his drink down. "Why? You won."

"It's not a competition."

"Well, it kinda is. And it's not like I don't know how it feels to be unfaithful. I was married before, did you know that?"

"Yeah, I know." June used to talk a lot in his garage apartment, stories always spilling out of her after three years of silence.

"Annie. I left her for June. Once you find the shiny new thing, you don't go back to the old one. I didn't, at least. June was it for me. But as they say, if they'll cheat with you, they'll cheat on you."

"She wasn't cheating." Nick felt the need to defend her. "She thought you were dead."

"At first."

"Yeah. And along with that, she needed…affection. Someone to talk to. Gilead is a cold place."

"Oh, I'm sure you supplied plenty of heat." Luke looked at the younger man sideways. "Can I ask you something? I don't care if it's yes or no, just tell me the truth."

"Sure," Nick said warily.

"After she got to Canada, she met you at the border, right? Once or twice?"

"Right. Uh, four times, actually."

"Wait, four? She only mentioned one visit to me. Tuello let it slip that it happened a second time."

Four times, Nick thought. Once for murder, three times for conversation. But maybe Luke didn't need to know all that.

"Well, anyway," Luke continued. "Could you tell me, like, I'd just like to know if, you know, while June and I were sharing a house, sharing a bed, was she with you?"

"Huh?"

"When you guys met up at the border, did you…have sex?"

"No."

"Just tell me the truth."

"No, we didn't. We just talked. I…you won't believe me on this, but I actually encouraged her to work on her marriage with you. It would've been easier."

"Well, she did try. Kind of. But then she came back home after seeing you, with the baby, and she looked really happy. Calm. Glowing."

"I gave her some intel on Hannah, and we played with Nichole for a while."

"That's it?"

Nick looked away. "Okay, we did kiss."

"On the mouth?"

Nick nodded.

"Did you tell her you loved her?"

"Yeah, but that's how we always talk to each other. It was always hypothetical, Luke. I mean, in a different world, we would've been together, run away from the Waterfords and gone underground until we got to California. I'd have no wife, she'd have no husband, and we'd just be together with our daughter who would never, ever be taken away from us. But that was all just bullshit fantasy."

"Until yesterday."

"Well, yeah. Now suddenly everything's different. But…I'm sorry for you. June's sorry. She loves you, she really does. She hates what she's doing to you."

"She might love me still, but she's not in love with me. And she's so mad at me, I'll never get her back now."

"What would she be mad at? She doesn't look mad."

"Oh, no, June and I have been very polite with each other since she got to Canada. Almost a year, and we've had exactly one fight. That was the only time she actually said something honest to me. You know what she said? She told me I was gonna do the same thing I'd done for the last seven years: 'fucking nothing.' I sat in Canada, safe and sound, while Hannah was raised by strangers and June got raped and tortured and God knows what else."

"She didn't mean that."

"Oh yes, she did. That was the truth. I did fucking nothing for my family. Not like you. It took you, what, three months to get your baby out of there. And June was supposed to get out with her, right?"

"She was too stubborn to get on the goddamned truck with Nichole."

"Didn't you plan an escape for her before that, too? Some little propeller plane? Plus you got to Hannah. You're three for three, my man. You're a hero."

Nick snorted in disbelief. "No. I'm a war criminal, Luke."

"You're her hero," he corrected. "The first thing I thought when Hannah said you'd gotten her out was: well, there goes my marriage. 'Cause I can't compete with that. I know I should fight for her, and God knows I want to, but I can't compete with you. You're her superhero."

Nick shifted in his lounge chair to sit up, looking straight at Luke. "Listen to me. If I weren't gonna tell Tuello a shit-ton of secrets about Gilead's military, I'd be in an Alaskan prison right now. I've killed civilians—lots of them. I've rounded up women to become handmaids and Marthas, including Rita. I've arrested and shot American rebels. Not to mention the treason I committed in the US before Gilead's takeover; on the day of the Revolution, I was standing in front of the Supreme Court building with an AR-15, stopping the police from helping the Justices who were being executed inside. I'm not anywhere close to a hero, Luke." He stopped to take a breath. He wasn't used to talking in such long paragraphs.

"Does June know all that?"

"Some of it. Not most, no."

"D'you think she'd still love you if she knew?"

"I think she'd never, ever call me a hero. So you should stop doing that." Nick sat back, looked at the pretty, placid scenery around them. "Morality is different there. Everyone kills in Gilead. Even schoolchildren help in particicutions. Nobody's innocent. Hannah has almost certainly helped hang people. Violence is normal there, and there are no heroes."

They all had dinner outside on the terrace. It was cooler tonight, so the waiters rolled out the patio heaters, which blew gently on them as they ate together.

Hannah offered to say grace. "Dear Lord, thank you for showing us the majesty of Your creation today—mountains and lakes and sky. Thank you for giving my mother back to me, as well as providing this bountiful meal. Please watch over Valentina and Jules, Rose too, as they travel tomorrow to a dangerous place with big fish that eat people off of the beach." She paused. "But I'm sure You know what's best for them. Amen." A chorus of amens followed, including—this time—from her father.

"Big fish that eat people?" Luke asked her.

"Whales," Hannah explained. "I learned about that at school."

"Whales don't eat people," Val argued mildly. "Only plankton, and maybe little fish. And they don't come near the beach, cuz they're too big for shallow water. No need to worry about us." But she appreciated the concern. She was going to miss her new friend; she'd have nobody except her twin to talk to in Mexico.

"Are you thinking of the story of Jonah, Hannah?" Nick asked. It was the only whale-eats-man reference in the Bible.

"That's right."

"Well, that whale didn't hurt Jonah. He was ignoring God's call, so God sort-of put him in time-out inside the fish for a few days, until Jonah was ready to do his duty. It was a very rare exception, not a common thing. I'm sure Val and Jules will be just fine."

Hannah looked earnestly at her friends. "Just don't ignore God's call. You never know what could happen while Jules is out swimming in the ocean."

"Good point," Jules said thoughtfully.

Nichole crawled into Luke's lap. "Hi, dada." Her mother was encouraging her to call the new one 'daddy,' while continuing to refer to the father she knew as 'dada.'

Luke cuddled Nichole, thankful that he hadn't been replaced. Yet. "Hey there, supergirl. Did you have a nice afternoon?"

"No," she said sadly. "Panda." She wanted to explain that her Panda had gotten dirty, so she showed her dada the mud-stained paws.

"Oh, no, he fell on the ground?"

"Well, actually, she threw him on the ground," Jules said. "Repeatedly."

Luke looked up at June. "Did she have a tantrum?"

"Only one."

He looked back at the little girl. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"No nap. I walk. And very, very long."

"You walked? Mommy didn't carry you?"

"No."

Nick gave his daughter a look of betrayal. "This is a very slanted report. Sounds like something Gilead's information ministry would produce."

"She needs a nap every day by 12:30," Luke explained. His tone sounded preachy, even to him, but, well, if Blaine wanted to play father, he needed to know this stuff. "Especially if she's outdoors and doing something physical. She gets tired. And you should've carried her; she can't walk as far as big kids." He looked back at Nichole, nestled against him. "You're not a big kid yet," he told her affectionately. "You're still my baby."

"Not a baby," she argued softly, although she sometimes liked being the baby.

"Children this age need very strict routines," Hannah offered. "It gives them a feeling of security when they know there's a schedule."

"You must have learned a lot about childcare at school," Rose said.

"Oh, absolutely. But also, I had a little brother."

That statement made all the adults look up at her. "The…MacKenzies had another child?" Luke asked her.

"Not a placement. Their real child. Matthew." She paused. "My father—the commander—didn't care as much about me once he was born."

"How old is he, Hannah?" June asked.

"One and a half."

"Oh," June said, thinking back. She'd met Tabitha briefly around then; she hadn't looked pregnant. "Did your family have a handmaid?"

"Yes, she was Matthew's vessel." Not mother. Vessel. That's how they explained handmaids to children, then. June felt a wave a sympathy for the unknown red-tag.

"She couldn't get the baby out, though," Hannah mused. "They had to split her open. I went into her bedroom later; she was cut all the way open." She gestured from her collarbone to her abdomen. "There was so much blood. I had nightmares about it for a long time."

Luke looked like he was going to be sick. "Okay, uh, wow. They didn't take the handmaid to a hospital?"

"No, hospitals aren't for unwomen," Hannah said matter-of-factly. "But they took Matthew there right after he was born, to make sure he was healthy. Poor baby, he didn't have any milk, so they had to bring in another handmaid who'd given birth a few months previously to be his wet nurse." She took a delicate bite of dinner. "I didn't like that handmaid at all. She wasn't even nice to the baby. I felt really bad for Matthew, and also for my Martha, because it took her days to clean all the blood out of the floors."

"You should feel bad for the poor handmaid who died," Luke told her sternly. "What was her name?"

"Ofkyle."

"Her real name, I mean."

"Ofkyle was her name, Dad. She did her godly duty by giving life, and was rewarded in heaven. The aunts told us we should rejoice for her."

June rolled her eyes. "She was a person, Hannah, who probably had hopes and dreams besides just having babies."

"Well," Hannah said carefully, "there's no higher calling for a woman than motherhood. Handmaids are lucky, in a way, that God has blessed them by allowing them to bear children." Honor thy father and mother. Don't insult her.

"Tabitha hated the handmaid system," Rose mused, saving June from answering. "She never wanted one, even though she wanted children. She and Kyle fought about it for a long time before they compromised and got a handmaid. But Tabitha never had to participate in the Ceremony."

June gaped at her. "She condoned the practice, Rose, whether or not she was in the room. Her husband still raped a woman three times a month, and she allowed it."

"Well, it's not exactly…." Rose trailed off, catching Nick's warning glare. She remembered how sensitive he was on this subject, how angry he'd gotten at her in Boston. She could only guess how June would react. She shrugged.

"What Rose meant," Luke said, "is that it's not exactly rape."

"What?" June snapped.

Nick shook his head urgently at Luke. He saw, but ignored it. Nick Blaine didn't get to dictate what he could or could not say. "Rape is something unexpected, violent," Luke clarified, "but for handmaids, it's more like a job. I mean, they signed up for it. Like, it was part of their routine."

June stood up, knocking her empty water glass over. Hannah caught it before it fell to the ground. "A job?!" she hurled at Luke. "Just an everyday routine, no violence at all? You're trying to explain to me what handmaids go through?"

"I just meant," Luke began, trying to walk his statement back.

"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Luke. It's really sweet of you to defend your little Rose here, but she doesn't know shit about handmaids either, so why don't the two of you just go back to burying your heads in the sand like you usually do?" She glared at him. "Do you understand me?" she shrieked, well aware of whom she sounded like. Nichole had started crying at the rough tone of her mother's voice, so June picked up her baby and stalked off, back to her room. Nick's room. Their room.

"This is my fault," Hannah muttered. "I owe my mother an apology." She looked miserable. "I've just never thought of handmaids like that. Like, having feelings."

"No, Banana, it's my fault, not yours," Luke soothed. "Your mom's upset about something that has nothing to do with you."

"Hey, Hannah," Valentina tried, "you wanna go to my room and watch a movie?" She had been uncharacteristically silent for the entire meal, but felt it was her duty to take care of her friend.

"Or we could go swimming," Jules suggested.

"A movie sounds better," Hannah said softly. "May we please be excused?"

Luke leaned back in his chair. "Sure, baby. Maybe you guys can get some popcorn from room service."

With a sympathetic glance at Luke, Rose stood. "I'll go with you," she told the children. She knew they wanted some time to talk without adults around, so she planned on setting them up with cable TV and then retreating to her half of the suite.

This left Nick and Luke alone at the table.

"I fucked that up," Luke admitted.

"Yeah, you did."

"You don't have to agree with me. But you know what I meant, right?"

"Not really. They didn't 'sign up' for that; they weren't given a choice. And it never became, uh, routine for her."

"Moira explained to me what a Ceremony is like. No touching, no talking, fully clothed, two minutes and done."

"Yeah, Luke, that's what it's supposed to be like. In theory. That's not how most Commanders do it. Certainly not Waterford." He shifted uncomfortably, thinking of how—or if—to tell Luke about this sort of thing. "Moira was never posted to a house, so she doesn't get it. Do you want to know?"

"Yeah, I do." No hesitation.

He thought some more. "June used to come to my apartment above the garage pretty regularly, you know, but she always came over when Waterford messed with her. Cuz, you know, it wasn't just on the days with a Ceremony; if Serena wasn't home, or he asked her to his office at night, or Jezebel's…. Anyway, she used to come to see me afterwards. She'd take a shower, as hot as she could, and try to scrub the stink of him off her. Then she'd brush her teeth hard, til her gums bled. After that, she'd crawl into my bed and just cry while I held her." They wouldn't make love on those nights, he thought, just sleep curled up with each other. "It wasn't a job for her, and she never got used to it, and she certainly never liked it."

"I didn't mean to imply she liked it."

"You didn't. You implied it was easy for her. It wasn't. Waterford made her want to crawl out of her own skin."

"Should I go apologize?"

"Tomorrow. Let her focus on Nichole now; that'll calm her."

Nick found June in Holly's room, under the covers with her sleeping daughter, once again surrounded by books and stuffies. He curled himself behind June, playing the part of the big spoon. He pulled the covers down a little so that he could wrap his arms around her. Kissing her ear, he whispered, "You wanna talk about Luke?"

"No," she whispered back.

"You wanna talk about Gilead?"

"No, I don't want to talk at all. You talk. Tell me a story."

Nick thought about handmaids—but didn't want to mention any handmaid she knew. "Do you know why I started smoking?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, it was Waterford's fault."

"Most things are."

"Yeah." He smirked. "It was after he took the first handmaid to Jezebel's. They came out to the car afterwards, and her makeup was all smudged. She'd been crying. Her lip was cut; I guess she bit it."

"Or he bit it."

"Or that. She was limping in pain. He really…did a number on her. And Waterford, he looked like he was so fucking proud of himself. I hated him so much in that moment. So. Much." Nick paused. "Anyway, he took her to Jezebel's again a few days later, and I couldn't take it. I asked Beth to trade me some cigarettes. Any brand but the one Serena smoked. That's when I started smoking."

June was quiet for a few moments, reflecting. He was trying to tell her that he understood some of what handmaids endured. That it wasn't a motherfucking 'routine' for them. A wave of love and gratitude for Nick washed over her and through her. This is what she needed. Not Luke's preachy judgment. She needed to be understood.

Poor Offred the First, she thought, who didn't have the support or the affection from Nick that had kept June sane. Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, the woman wrote to herself…except they did grind her down, in the end. "What did you trade for the Marlboros?" she finally asked Nick. Lightly. Trying to lift the mood.

"I, uh, went down on Beth."

June half-turned to smile saucily at him. "That should've been worth more than one pack of cigarettes."

"Well, I wasn't very good at it in those days. She had to give me some pointers."

June giggled. "I see."

"The third or fourth time, I earned two packs."

"Such a good student."

"Oh yeah, teacher's pet."

"So we have to give credit to Beth for your nicotine addiction and your…prowess." She smiled sadly, thinking of her friend's pluck, and her tragic end. "If we ever have another daughter, maybe we should name her Elizabeth."

Nick sucked in his breath, surprised at that train of thought. June had mentioned very briefly last night that it was the wrong time of month for her to conceive. He assumed she wouldn't ever want another baby. But since she brought up the idea, he was game. "Elizabeth is beautiful. But if we get pregnant here, I think we should call the baby after this resort. I've got the perfect name already picked out."

"What's the name of this resort?"

"Serenity On the Sound. So I was thinking, for a girl…"

June laughed out loud, then stifled herself before it woke up Holly. "Oh hell no. I veto that."

"Aw, c'mon," Nick coaxed playfully, not meaning it at all. In a thousand years, they would not be naming their child Serena. But June was smiling now, that was the important part. Her shoulders and face had relaxed, and she wasn't seething with fury and pain anymore. "Let's go to bed," he suggested instead.

"We're in bed."

"Not Holly's bed. Ours."

"I love that you call it our bed. In our room." She glanced at the digital clock on the night table. "And that you want to go to sleep at eight twenty."

"Not sleep. Just bed." His goal was to keep that smile on her face until she fell into an exhausted, satisfied stupor.