Chimes from a Deeper Sea by M P Ericson Read Free Book Online

 
     
    I never cared
much for the other boys. Handsome, yes, some of them: the flash of
teeth like foam on a wave, sunbright; trim muscles straining under
smooth skin. But not attractive - not in that way, not to me.
    Though I
watched them, sometimes: loitered in the shade of palm fronds,
washed my toes in warm water right at the edge of the lagoon. My
favourite spot, there: a little aside from the village, close
enough to hear my mother's call, but far enough to be private with
my own thoughts.
    Unless Hinu was
with me, little Hinu, my baby sister. She wasn't often, she
preferred the company of my middle sisters, who'd played with her
since she was small. I left them to it, I'd had my fill of
mothering them, it was sweet to watch them now croon and cuddle and
tickle as I had done, as my mother did with me, as girls in every
generation do throughout the eternal voyage of the world across the
endless sea.
    Often now I
would sneak away, dawdle by the water's edge and watch light ripple
across the sand under the surface, and dream idly of my my own
future. Of marriage, and children, and a house of my own. And a
man.
    I'd already
chosen one.
    But it wasn't
one of those I'd grown up with, who I watched now push the boats
out into the lagoon and glide out towards the sea. I knew them,
they were friends, like brothers almost - even the ones not born
from my father's wives. I liked to live among them, had no wish to
lose their companionship, but I could not imagine them as husbands.
Or I could, but shuddered at the thought, as at some deep wrongness
seeping up from the cracks within the world.
    No, this man
was something else entirely. A chief's son from another island. I
watched him now as he wandered along the beach, sleek and assured,
youthful next to my father. But he wasn't a boy, I knew that by the
strength of his body as he wrestled, by the depth of his voice as
he spoke in calm terms to my father or joked among his own men.
Most of all, I knew it by the way he looked at me: with respect. No
trace had I seen in him of the sniggers and lewd hints and
presumptuous stares that other youths clutched at to cover their
insecurity. He carried instead a dignity that made them look
clumsy, a reserve that made them look foolish. I could not regard
them with anything but pity or contempt, when he was near.
    It was the
third time he'd visited us. I knew what he came for, because my
mother had told me. He wanted a wife.
    A chief's son
and a chief's daughter. These matters were not settled in a hurry.
First messengers had come, and then gift-bearers, and then hostages
in exchange for our own, and finally the young man himself. Two of
my brothers had travelled back with him, and remained now at his
island home. They would stay there forever, if one of us girls
married him and went to live there as his wife.
    One of us. Not
necessarily me.
    I watched my
sisters with surreptitious envy. Five of them were of age to marry,
and all with gifts that outshone mine. Prettier, or kinder, or
better skilled at their tasks. He'd watched us cook and clean and
carry water, weave and plait and tease the kids. We'd watched him
dance and wrestle and handle his boat, then accepted gifts of
flowers and food from his hands. Which meant he knew enough to make
a choice now, and we enough to ask our mothers to take us back
within the house and not allow him to see us again.
    None of us had
asked.
    He was too
courteous to give any hints. Too mature to betray any uncertainty.
I had the sense that his mind was made up, and for the very best of
reasons. But he would give that sense, I was sure, no matter what
his decision might be - and whether or not I would find it to my
liking.
    For myself, I
knew. Had known from the moment he first jumped ashore. I could see
that movement still, swift and elegant, certain as a lightning
strike. It slammed into my body, hard as if he'd been close enough
to touch, and from that instant I'd known he was the man I wished
to marry.
    But