“I vote we replicate breakfast,” Kira said, pouring the last of the soup into a storage container. Clearing off the counters, she shuttled clean goblets into the cupboard and tossed a handful of kater pods into the produce basket. Wiping her hands on a towel, she crossed back to the sitting room and resumed her perch on Kasidy’s favorite overstuffed chair.
“Cooking can be bothersome,” Kasidy conceded, “but there’s nothing quite as satisfying as getting your hands dirty doingsomething and then enjoying the fruits of your labors.”
“You know…you sound like Benjamin when you talk like that,” Kira said wistfully.
“I think that’s one of the reasons I cook: it helps me keep him close.”
“Do you—” Kira began, but hesitated.
“Get lonely?” she said, completing the question. “Miss him?” Since Kira arrived, they both had kept their conversations light. Kas assumed Kira needed the respite from her worries about the station as much as Kas needed to stop dwelling on Jake.
“I wasn’t trying to be nosy,” Kira apologized.
Kasidy held up a hand to stop her. “Everyone wonders and my honest answer is, of course. After the station—after being a ship’s captain—the quiet around here took some getting used to. Now I actually like it.” She said it and she meant it. At first, Kasidy followed through with the “dream house” project because she felt like she owed it to Ben. Gradually, she became caught up in the details, grateful to be staying busy. She was surprised how much time she spent selecting the stones for the fireplace, talking with the carpenter who carved the mantel, and finding just the right hand-thrown pottery plates that would sit on her kitchen table. Attributing her preoccupation with rugs and end tables to a maternal nesting instinct felt plausible to her. Then one day, standing in this very room she sat in now, she was savoring the warm sun streaming through the windows when she realized that she loved it here. This was herhome. Her lullabies would whisper through its rafters. Fresh asters and Bajoran lilacs from the garden she planted would fill vases in every room. Jake—and Ben—would return here. Until then, she would make it ready to welcome them. “I have my fears,” she said at last. “And I’d sleep easier knowing Jake was safe, but I’m happy.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Kas. You’ve had more than your share of heartache since the war ended,” Kira said, turning her gaze to watch the evening’s first moonrise.
“We all have,” Kasidy replied. “I hardly have a monopoly on suffering. I consider myself very blessed. You’ve shouldered your share of struggles.”
“Mine are relatively small,” she said lightly. Since her arrival, Kira had avoided talking about any work-related problems she might be having, focusing instead on Kasidy’s baby, her search for dependable farm help, Jake, and the general political situation. Kas assumed that Kira didn’t want to “needlessly worry the pregnant lady,” a sentiment she’d become intimately familiar with. As the days passed, however, Kasidy began suspecting Kira’s reticence wasn’t solely motivated by benevolence. Perhaps, being immersed in DS9 and Bajor’s needs had acclimated Kira to ignoring her own. And that’s not good,she thought. “It’s my turn to ask an impertinent question, Nerys.”
“Fire away.”
“Are you happy?”
Kira snorted. “Kas—”
“I’m not budging from this spot until you tell me what’s on your mind,” Kasidy said.
Kira inhaled deeply. She toyed with the macramé vest she wore, threading her fingers through the holes. “There’s not a simple answer. I wouldn’t necessarily change my life—” she lifted heavy lidded eyes to Kasidy “—except the Attainder. That I could do without.” The weak smile she offered Kas failed to offset her worry wrinkles.
Kira carries her burdens in her eyes. Shades of Benjamin,Kasidy thought, imagining she could see the mantle of command bestowed upon her friend by her husband. “Talk to me. I’ve been told I’m a good listener—and I know how to keep a secret.”
Considering Kasidy for a long moment, Kira’s brow furrowed. “Where to start? Double-dealing Shakaar, the peace talks mess, the daughter-in-law of the Federation councillor’s suicide—and that’s the appetizer. Believe me, Kas, you don’t want to hear about this.”
“Yes I do,” Kasidy insisted. “You’ve done a great job catching me up on all the station gossip, though I’m still not sure what to make of Lieutenant Ro, um, socializing with Quark. Now I want the rest of it.”
Kira rose from her chair and walked over to turn on the fireplace. Resting her arm against the river rocks, she stared into the flames. “You know I even tried knitting? And I found it incredibly frustrating. I followed the instructions from the database to the letter and no matter how meticulously I worked, I managed to drop stitches or purl when I was supposed to knit. When the yarn became all tangled up and knotted, I figured, the hell with this! And that’s how I feel things are at the station right now—just like my knitting.” She ran her hand along the mantel’s smoothly carved curves and curlicues, pausing to pick up the amber-gold figurine given to Kasidy by Prylar Eivos. “I do the best that I know how to do and where has that gotten us? Promenade fights, vandalism, threats against the Cardassian delegation. I hate saying it, but I almost miss the war. At least then we knew who we were fighting and what we were fighting for.”
“Nerys, I’m no expert on commanding a—” The door chime rang. Oh, who could that be?Kasidy thought irritably. In her early days here, well-meaning Bajorans seeking to “help” the Emissary’s wife stopped by, uninvited, as if she were building a shrine, not a house. Gradually, as all parties came to an understanding she’d stopped being a curiosity to the locals. Now her neighbors vigorously protected her privacy, refusing to dole out the smallest tidbit to strangers seeking her, even those on religious pilgrimages. I hope there’s not an emergency. Wouldn’t they call first?Kasidy scooted to the edge of the couch, psyching herself up for whoever might be visiting.
“I’ll get it,” Kira said. She set the figurine down on the coffee table and vanished into the foyer.
“I’m not an invalid,” Kasidy muttered, pushing up onto her feet and following after Kira. The baby snuggled into her ribs; she paused to push gently on the head, trying to dislodge it. No luck. She heard the beeps of Kira tapping in the lock release.
“You?” came her visitor’s shocked exclamation.
“Not who you were expecting, Vedek Yevir?” Kira said.
Inwardly, Kasidy groaned, wishing she could become invisible; Yevir was about as welcome as a malfunctioning phaser in the middle of a firefight. While she found most Bajoran clerics to be pleasant (being the Emissary’s wife meant they were on their best behavior around her), Yevir was the exception. Kasidy couldn’t stomach his sanctimoniousness, how he wrapped his unapologetic quest to be kai in a cloak of piety. He’d shown his true character when he slapped the Attainder on Kira; Kasidy wasn’t prepared to forgive him for what she believed to be a vindictive, politically motivated punishment. That Bajor would be better off with Yevir as kai than they were with Winn was doubtful to Kasidy’s way of thinking. For a moment, Kasidy considered turning back around and hiding in the sitting room. Kira would get rid of him.
…But how fair was that to Kira.
Kasidy turned the corner and saw Kira had blocked the doorway, arms linked across her chest. From her posture, Kasidy surmised it would take a Klingon with a bat’lethto pass into the vestibule.
“With all due respect, Vedek, why not go back to town and call back in the morning? Make an appointmentwith Captain Yates,” Kira said coldly.
Peering at the vedek from behind Kira, Kasidy said, “So you were in the neighborhood and thought you’d stop by for a visit?”