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Book Three: Reach For the Stars
Part Two: Hearts & Roses
Chapter One: Caught in a Minute
"I seem to recall a promise I made once," someone says from behind me.
Turning around, I find a young partly-Klingon male holding a flower out to me. A rose. Who is he? Could he be the one Q spoke of, finding me instead of my finding him? Then his words finally register. A promise? With a smile, I accept the rose from him. "Jeremy Paris?"
He shrugs. "At your service. I couldn't rest until I fulfilled a promise."
I raise a hand to cover my silly grin. Why the concern about a promise made long ago by an eight year old? We were just kids. Although I thought it was sweet at the time, I haven't dwelled on it.
Yet now I'm unable to resist his crooked smile. "When I learned that you'd signed up for Starfleet Academy, I had to come see you. I live about twenty kilometers south of here in a two-story house......with a flower garden in the backyard. Want to see it?"
I can't believe he is making this offer. We are virtual strangers! More shocking, I am nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, I would love a tour." Why do I feel so safe with him, this boy I hardly know? Is this some trick of the Q?
He holds out his elbow to me. "Then allow me to escort you to my shuttlecraft and I'll drive you to my home."
"Why not just transport there?"
"And miss all the scenery?"
Of course. I should remember that Jeremy loves nature more than anything. I accept his arm and we walk toward the turbolift.
Jeremy has a small passenger shuttlecraft parked in a vacant area nearby my building. It looks ancient, its once white exterior now yellow and grey in spots. "Where did you get this thing?" I ask as we race, hand in hand, toward the vehicle. Clutched firmly in my free hand, the rose dances in the slight wind. We reach the shuttlecraft, I quickly glance through the window, the polished interior sprouting ideas of a boy who intimately cared for everything.
"It used to belong to my parents," he tells me, popping the door open. "I inherited the beast when they purchased a newer model from a Ferengi merchant. "
"I hope they got a good deal."
Jeremy grins devilishly. " I know I did." He steps inside the craft and turns to offer me a hand. Such a gentlemen, I muse. Placing the rose between my lips and tasting its fragrance, I accept his grasp with both hands. As I follow him to the front and take the copilot's chair, I realize I have never felt this comfortable alone with a boy. Is Q responsible? I think about his check list and his admonishings that he knew the perfect match for me. Did chance or Q bring Jeremy to me? I decide it really doesn't matter.
"Are you nervous?" he asks.
Removing the rose from my mouth, I place it in my lap, the fabric of my skirt serving as its bed. "Not at all," I respond, staring glassily into his eyes. I sense his benevolent intentions so clearly it's difficult to accept that he can sense nothing from me. "You've been too sweet to me."
He chuckles lightly. " I meant about my driving."
"Oh." Then again, my empathy has never been perfect where my heart is concerned. I brush the rose petals gently with my index finger.
"It's okay, really. My father taught me everything I know, and he's the best damn pilot Starfleet has to offer." He powers up the engine and programs in our course.
"I bet." Taken by how innocent he sounds, I smile at his obvious pride for his father.
The shuttlecraft lifts off with a jolt, and Jeremy monitors and adjusts its settings until we reach an acceptable altitude. "Woo!" he exclaims, raising his arms in a flourish as we clear a grove of trees." Isn't it beautiful?" The glow across his face tells as though this is a new experience for him, but I know better. Perhaps his excitement stems from having company, someone to share the beauty and offer it new essence.
I place the rose atop the console and raise from my seat for a better view. Rows of houses surround the small forest area. "Oh yes," I say as I imagine the people who live in each. Which one would I choose? I turn toward Jeremy and wonder what type of house he lives in. Moving up and away from his console, he joins me.
He raises an arm over my shoulder and points. "You see that taller building about a kilometer away?" As I follow his finger to the ever-closer structure, I imagine what purpose it serves for the community. "Research facility. My grandfather, Owen Paris, is the head of the company, been there since he retired from Starfleet five years ago. Major thorn in my side."
His grandfather or the company? I sense a deep hostility inside him, but do not ask. As we zoom past the facility, I'm relieved it's behind us. I'm not interested in knowing what sort of research they perform; I only want the light-hearted mood between Jeremy and I to return.
The shuttlecraft rocks, knocking me backwards into Jeremy. " What was that?" I ask, frightened the old craft has malfunctioned and we are about to take a nose dive.
"Just a little turbulence," he responds, casually. After helping me regain my equilibrium, he rushes back to his console to make compensations. "We're almost there. If you look to your left, you'll see a yellow two-story house with wood fencing. I'm going to land us in the front yard."
"This won't be a bumpy landing, will it?"
He glances at me and nodding firmly, says, "Trust me."
Trust him that it will or that it won't? Deciding not to take any chances, I brace myself between the console and window. I can't look away from the view as it looks as though we're about to crash into the fencing. Seconds later, we clear it by a few meters, and land in the center of the yard. It was a fun ride, but I'm glad to be back on the ground.
Holding out a hand to me, Jeremy says, "May I escort you to the garden, my lady?"
"Why of course, kind sir," I reply, grinning at his jovial tone. We take one step, and I suddenly remember the rose. " Wait!" I bend down to retrieve the flower from where it fell during the turbulence, stretching in an attempt to not let go of Jeremy's hand. A couple of petals have fallen off, but it is still beautiful.
Once we are outside, I get a closer look at the house. A porch wraps around the front and along one side. How many rooms are inside? Which one is Jeremy's? I look up to the second story and see a balcony with a row of potted plants. Jeremy's room, no doubt.
Gently, he pries the rose from my hand and tucks it behind my ear. Then he grasps both my hands and leaning forward, kisses me. Although taken by surprise, I don't resist, pressing more fully against him.
When we part, he apologizes," I hope you don't mind. I've been wanting to kiss you for eight years."
As he leads me toward the back yard, I hear his words reverberating inside my head. Had he really meant it? Has he really been thinking about me since we met so long ago? I never dwelled on his promise. Had he? I raise my hand to feel for the rose. He's been thinking about kissing me for eight years! Never have I felt this giddy and carefree.
The garden takes up nearly all the back yard. Besides several rose bushes, he has grown a wide variety of fruits and vegetables. I'm amazed by his dedication to them. People today rely on replicators to provide them with whatever they need, and yet Jeremy obviously enjoys tending to the earth.
"Wow! Your garden is so beautiful," I say. "How do you make everything grow so big?"
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary...how does your garden grow?" he responds in a lilting voice as he bends down to pluck a ripe tomato.
"What?!"
"You mean to tell me that you don't know what a nursery rhyme is?" Walking to the other side, he grabs a bushel barrel setting beside the fence.
"No, I'm afraid not," I say, folding my arms.
"I suppose you grew up listening to Klingon myths."
"That's right. My father is very proud of his people. There's nothing wrong with tales of warriors. You're part Klingon yourself."
"I agree and I apologize. I did not mean to insult you."
"All right, I accept. Educate me on these nursery rhymes then."
"Some were written better than a thousand years ago," he explains as he begins filling the barrel with tomatoes. I decide to help while listening. "In many cases their original meaning has become obscure, but over the centuries they have remained popular as lullabies for small children. Hence, the term 'nursery rhyme'.
"Teach me some," I coax.
Grinning, he stands from his task and recites from memory:
"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
And can't tell where to find them.
Leave them alone,
And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them.
Little Bo Peep fell fast asleep,
And dreampt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For still they all were fleeting."
I laugh heartily at the silliness of the rhyme. The human culture is so vastly different from Klingon or Betazed. Although the majority of the crew aboard the Enterprise are human, I realize how little I've actually learned about the history of their culture. Standing here in a garden listening to ancient poetry is refreshing. "Do you know what it means?"
"I can take a wild guess," he responds. His eyebrows shoot up much like a Vulcan's if not for the sly grin that accompanied it. "Probably about a mother who's in denial about her children reaching adulthood. She wants them to remain her babies. Only thing is, their still her children, and when they get into trouble, they'll be back."
I bite at my lower lip and think about how long it has been since I've lived with my own parents. "I think I've been in less trouble since I left home."
"It was just a guess. I meant no comparison." He moves over to a vine plant and snaps off a large cucumber. " I know one that will have you rolling on the ground in fits of laughter," he promises, waving the vegetable at me.
I giggle in expectation.
"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked."
"So many P's." More giggles. I cannot keep a straight face.
Despite my intrusion, he doesn't falter. "If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?"
Without warning, he tosses the cucumber and comes toward me, takes my arms into his and twirls me around, repeating the rhyme at a faster pace. As he nearly finishes, I have the uncontrollable urge to plant a kiss on his lips. I am the one delivering the surprise this time. Laughing as our lips meet, we nearly tumble to the ground.
" Thank you, Shannara Rozhenko," he says. "For agreeing to come with me. It has been a pleasure entertaining you." He glances up at the sky. "But it is starting to get dark. I should be a gentleman and get you home."
I am saddened that this must end. Will I see him again? I must! "All right, I'll *let* you take me home. Have dinner with me tomorrow night." I can't believe how casually I have asked him for a date!
"Only if you promise to share one of those Klingon myths with me."
"Deal."
He escorts me back to his shuttlecraft. On the return trip, we discuss our dinner plans and he insists on entertaining me in his home. I learn that his parents are away on some mission and that he doesn't expect them back for several more weeks. Why does the thought of being alone in a big house with a sixteen-year old boy not scare me?
