CHAPTER 13

Laura wasn't sure how she should entertain her guest. The isolated mountain town didn't exactly offer much in terms of activities or entertainment. It was all vistas melting into landscape, lush with greenery against a cerulean sky. It was open spaces and airy breezes. It was a lazy town, made for rest and relaxation, for sitting by the lake, for reading, for hours of good conversation, for dreaming.

It was early enough in the morning that the sun hadn't quite warmed the waters enough for swimming so Laura took Bill to the Gardens of Paphos, one of the most scenic areas of Galatea, famed for its quaint footbridges and latticed gazebos ornamented with flushing climbing roses and white moonflowers. The park was nestled between two hills and the winds that came through the small valley could be strong in the cooler months. In summer, they were light zephyrs. Lily ponds shimmered with bright lavender and pink flowers, reflecting sun and sky on their surface, a visual echo in miniature of the surrounding countryside.

"What's it like," Laura asked curiously as they walked at a leisurely pace along one of the winding paths, "being aboard a ship for all of those months? I don't think I could do it."

"You get used to it," answered Bill matter-of-factly. He stopped and took a slow breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle. "But if this is what you're used to," he said making a generalized gesture around them, "then I could see how you'd find it difficult to be confined to a ship. This place is like paradise."

"They say Galatea is for lovers," said Laura.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she instantly wished that she could retract them. Her comment could so easily be misconstrued as a flirtation, and on top of that, here she was bringing him to what was undeniably a romantic spot. She'd invited him to stay for the weekend and she tried not to think about the fact that she'd allowed him to hold her in the intimate darkness of her bedroom just the night before. She had nestled quite willingly into the offered warmth of his embrace and she had accepted the comfort that he had given. It was all platonic, she reminded herself, when she felt a flash of inner panic. But even now, there was something in her still, lurking deep on the subversive cellular level of her body, unacknowledged by her intellect - that wanted him to touch her again.

"A lot of people honeymoon here," she clarified by way of explanation. "You know the story of Pygmalion and Galatea?"

"The guy who fell in love with his sculpture? Yeah. He asked Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, to grant him a woman who would be like the statue that he made…and she did. I guess that's supposed to be romantic. Unusual little fetish if you ask me," said Bill drily. "Although hey….I don't judge."

Laura stopped walking and looked at him. A mischievous breeze saw fit to play with a few strands of her hair so that they fell across her face, and Bill watched as she brushed them away. "Well," offered Laura thoughtfully, "from a philosophical point of view, I think it's supposed to say something about finding your ideal love. But I think that's the whole problem. Not a whole lot of challenge, is there, if you wind up with perfection? Or at least perfection from your point of view. Not a whole lot of room for growth. Not to mention the whole sexist aspect of the story. He gets a woman that he 'molded' into what he wanted. What about her? He probably drools and snores and has a profusion of nose hairs."

"Maybe she finds nose hairs sexy. So do you object to a single nose hair or when you say profusion are you only objecting to nose hairs in bulk quantity?"

Laura laughed. "Any and all. Nose hairs are not sexy, Bill. And I think you're making fun of me." Her tone was light.

"Not really. I just wanted to get to hear you laugh again." It was Bill's turn to regret what he'd said. It felt too familiar to say; it assumed too much. It expressed more than he wanted to reveal, even to himself. Bill cleared his throat. "So did Pygmalion and Galatea live on to have hybrid-statue-human babies?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "They had a son that they named Paphos."

"Ah." They were both quiet for a few moments. Bill steered the topic back to her. "So what brought you from the classroom into politics, if you don't mind my asking?"

Laura shrugged. "It just kind of happened. I always had an interest in the community, not just academics. I think music is like that. It's so personal. Although, I'll admit – it was a bit of a leap. I was a principal when I met the President and agreed to help with his campaign for mayor. I never planned to stay. A part of me has never really liked politics but for some reason I kept on."

"You've worked a lot with Adar?"

Something in Laura's expression sharpened at the question; there was a subtle change in her posture. Her eyes were guarded. "Yes. For a long time. What brought you into the military?" she asked quickly, diverting the attention away from her relationship with the president.

The abrupt shift did not go unnoticed but Bill answered anyway. "Flight. Ships. When I was a kid I used to take things apart – all the time. To my mother's dismay, I took every doorknob apart in the house when I was three."

"Impressive."

Bill chuckled. "Not really. I couldn't put them back together."

Laura smiled. "So you can fix anything?"

"Most things." Not the important things. "I knew that I wanted to be a pilot from the time I was very small. And then with the war – well, I never really considered doing anything else. Peace can be an odd thing when you're not used to it; sometimes I think I'm still just waiting for the other shoe to drop. That must sound awfully cynical."

Laura tilted her head to the side, thinking. It was a habit of hers, Bill had noticed, this reflective tipping of her head in moments of careful consideration. "Maybe. Maybe not. Perspective, really. You're cynical if the Cylons never come back, vigilant if they do. Personally, I'd choose cynicism."

"Me, too," agreed Bill.

"Seriously, Bill." Laura stopped walking and her eyes met his, head on. Maybe that's what it was about her that made it almost impossible to look away. She was so present, so attentive, so focused. Political posturing or not – it was mesmerizing. "Committing to the military, serving in the war, all those years of service….thank you for everything you've done." Her voice was sincere, her expression genuine. "It's an impressive gift you've given."

"Thanks. Laura – that means a lot."

They walked a few more paces, both quiet.

Laura glanced down at her watch. "How about a swim? You want to head back?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah….yeah, I do."

When they arrived back at the cabin, Bill told Laura he'd meet her at the lake. He wanted to go for a quick run before the swim. Running on a treadmill - with recycled, manufactured oxygen pumping through your lungs - just wasn't the same as running through wide-open spaces with the warm sun beating against your face. He'd had far too little of the outdoors lately. Laura told him to enjoy himself and take his time. They agreed on a place to meet in about an hour.

Bill circled the outskirts of the lake. It was a good day for a run, not too hot, and breezy. Running outdoors worked muscles that you just couldn't engage on a machine – not in the same way. He started slow and gradually increased his pace. Sweat beaded his forehead and gathered on his back and arms and legs as he sped up. His heart raced. The raw energy that his body expended led to sore muscles and a chest that burst and burned. But it felt good. Bill felt vital, alive. He felt pride in the body that was working exactly as he wanted it to, maybe not as honed as when he was twenty-three, but it would suffice. The feeling was exhilarating. The place was beautiful, the day clear and serene. Bill neared the cabin sooner than he expected and finally began to slow down.

An apparition of sound floated on a breath of wind, interspersed with the gentle swish of the breeze in the treetops and mingled with the call of birds. It was masked by other natural sounds. At first, Bill thought that he was hearing wind chimes, so mellow and sweet, rippling through the air like incandescent bells. He soon realized his mistake. It wasn't wind chimes at all. There was nothing random about the notes that echoed around him, nothing arbitrary. What he was hearing couldn't possibly be the mere whim of the wind. Precision melted into passion with each resounding note. This was the chaos of the heart distilled into form.

This was music. This was Laura.

Bill reached the door of the cabin and entered quietly, not wanting her to cease playing, but also wanting to see her at the piano. He leaned against the door frame as still as stone. Her back was facing him but he could see the movement of her hands when she moved them up to the high notes. The piece ended too soon but she immediately went into another. This one was slow and warm, the purity of the treble clear and bittersweet against the ascending bass. His eyes were damp as the last note lingered and finally faded.

Laura was still. She sat at the piano, unmoving, with her hands in her lap.

"I don't want to startle you," Bill said with careful softness.

"How long have you been there?" Laura asked without turning around.

"Long enough to understand why Lee said that your playing was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard."

Laura continued to face the piano and Bill understood that she needed the shelter of distance around her just then. He wouldn't breach it.

"It's a folk tune," she explained. "The last piece. It's called Hymn to Hope. When I was a very little girl, my father taught me the most basic part of the melody. I learned a more complicated arrangement when I got older and then I started writing my own embellishments. My dad would do the same and we'd tinker with it together. My mother used to say that we never played it the same way twice, which is probably true."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks. It's good to play again, Bill. I shouldn't have left it for so long." She shifted and turned, not quite all the way, but enough so that he could see her profile. Bill walked over to her and stood beside the piano, admiring it, keeping his focus off her.

"How old is the piano? The cabinet work is so intricate."

"Older than I am."

Bill ran his fingertips over the knotwork design. "This was hand done, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Amazing work."

"It really is," she agreed.

The afternoon light highlighted her features as Laura moved her head and Bill saw that her face was streaked with tears. But he pretended not to notice. She needed him to ignore it; Bill understood that. Sometimes sympathy was too much. The tips of his fingers brushed against her hand as he touched the wood. He let them linger there for a moment and then he cupped her hand within his, rubbing his thumb along her wrist. She looked at him, really looked at him in that moment, and Bill felt as if he were a lake made of glass and that she was seeing to the very depths of him. It was too much, this time, for him. He released her hand and took a step back.

"How about that swim?" asked Bill heavily. The moment dissolved with the question and that heart-stripping second slipped away. For Bill, it was both agony and relief.

Laura stood up and hastily wiped at her face. "I'll go change."

At the lake, Bill discovered yet another facet of Laura. She loved the water. To him, it was cold – damned cold – but there she was, completely immersed, gliding underwater like a magical selkie from one of those fairy tales his grandfather used to read to them when they were kids. Bill sat at the edge of the dock soaking up the sun with his feet in the water while she swam.

"For frak's sake, Bill, just get in all the way," said Laura as she resurfaced. Droplets of water dripped and slid down her face. She smiled. "It's really nice once you get in but you can't just ease into it. You just have to do it."

"Is that a challenge, Roslin?"

"Yes. If Kara were here, she'd tell you to stop being a girl."

"Anybody ever tell you that you're like a rabid mermaid?"

Laura tipped onto her back and floated gracefully, closing her eyes against the sun. "You're stalling, Adama."

Bill plunged into the water and went straight for Laura, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her under, not too far, just enough to give her a good dunk. They both surfaced and spluttered, circling one another in a way that Bill wasn't certain whom was chasing whom.

"I'm just reminding you that I have military training," Bill warned her as he grabbed her ankle and pulled her onto her stomach. She was a quick, slippery little thing and he lost his hold on her. She was underwater again, swimming a half circle to maneuver herself behind Bill in order to give him a push forward - but he wouldn't budge. They were both short of breath and laughing.

"Nice attempt," taunted Bill, "but you – "

"Laura! Laura!"

"Oh, my gods!" Laura swam to the shore and Bill watched as she emerged from the water to embrace the woman who had called her name. Bill followed her. He grabbed their towels on the way and handed one to Laura when he reached her.

"Thank you, Bill," said Laura, wrapping the towel around herself. "Beverly, this is Admiral Bill Adama, Kara's future father-in-law. And Bill, this is my neighbor, Beverly Cottle."

"I've known this little one since she was only five years old when her parents bought the place." Beverly slipped an arm around Laura's waist. Her accent was pure Virgon with its lush rounding of vowels and lilting cadence. Her long hair was white and wavy, held up by small combs and pins. With her high cheekbones and olive-green eyes, lightly fringed at the edges of the pupils with a deep blue, she was a very lovely woman.

"Beverly and Jack help keep an eye on the place for me," Laura explained. "And they are very dear family friends."

"How long are you staying?" asked Beverly eagerly.

"Until tomorrow morning. I stopped by to see you this morning but I must have missed you."

"We were doing some shopping in town. Oh, honey, you should have told us you were coming."

"It was a bit of an impromptu visit," explained Laura.

"You and the admiral have to stop over for dinner tonight." Beverly looked from Bill to Laura with a meaningful little twinkle in her eyes. Laura knew exactly what she was thinking and what she must be assuming about her and Bill.

"We'd love to. Kara and Lee were supposed to join us but there was a mix-up. Poor Bill hasn't had a decent meal since he got here. Completely my fault."

"Oh, we'll take care of that."

"At least let me bring dessert," offered Laura.

Beverly put a finger to Laura's lips. "Hush, love. Don't you dare bring a thing but this good-looking gentleman. Jack is going to be very happy to see you. Six 'o clock?"

"We can't wait."