Household Gods

“Oh,” Nicole said. It was more of a gasp than a word. She didn’t know if she dared laugh. It wasn’t funny, not at all. And yet she hadn’t thought, not really, that he understood how bad he smelled. His nose must have accustomed itself to the reek, just as hers had got used to the stink of Carnuntum.

He was watching, waiting for her to speak. “That was very… thoughtful of you,” she said a little desperately – and with dawning awareness. She knew what he had in mind. She wasn’t surprised. What else, after all, did a man usually have on his mind?

What was surprising, and not exactly thrilling either, was the realization that she had it on her mind, too. She glowered down at the wine cup, as if the Falernian in there had betrayed her. But alcohol had very little to do with it. She was sober as a judge – more sober than a couple of judges she’d known. Some of it was fear of extinction hammered home by Fabia Ursa’s untimely death. More, she admitted, had to do with Calidius Severus’ patient pursuit of her. He hadn’t taken no for an answer, but he hadn’t made a nuisance of himself, either. But most of it was the loneliness and isolation she felt here. This, she’d thought, would be her ideal world, her best escape from the twentieth century: simple, idyllic, egalitarian, worth even abandoning her kids; after all, didn’t men do it all the time? It was none of those things – not even close. And now, to her deep dismay, she needed an escape from the escape.

If she could go back -

No. Not even for Kimberley and Justin. She loved them, a fierce, visceral love that had nothing to do with anything she’d done or not done. It hadn’t kept her from leaving them, and it wouldn’t bring her back. Not as long as she found life in that world unlivable. Even Dawn-the-bimbo was better for them than Nicole in the state she’d been in when she made her prayer to Liber and Libera. Nicole now, worn thin with the simple effort of survival in a world she’d never been prepared for and certainly never fit into, was even less able to be the kind of mother they needed. She couldn’t even make this world a better place, and she was living in it. All her grand plans, her ambitions to “invent” everything from the chimney to the cotton swab, had lost themselves somewhere, so completely she couldn’t even regret that they were gone. Every scrap of energy she had was devoted to staying alive, fed, and more or less sane.

All of that came together into a decision of sorts. “Let’s wait a little longer,” she said, “to make sure Julia’s gone to sleep.”

“Well, well,” Titus said in unguarded surprise. Then he laughed quietly. “Well, well.” He laughed again, more freely, with a brightness of joy in it that she found contagious. “However you like. I’ve been saying that all along.”

She sipped at the wine without answering. She’d made a choice, and it wasn’t easily revocable. She should have relaxed into it; been glad for the release, at long last, of tension. Instead, she was twitchier than ever. She was, in a manner of speaking, about to lose her virginity again – her first time in this body. First times were always strange. How much stranger this was, when her lover didn’t even know it was the first time. As far as he knew, this was the same woman he’d made love to – how many times before? Many, if Nicole was any judge.

After a while, her cup was empty. So was Calidius Severus’. It probably had been for a bit. He raised an eyebrow and smiled that lopsided smile of his. It had always appealed to her. Now it made her belly quiver.

She took a deep breath, and nodded. They rose from the table together. She took the lamp to light their way upstairs. No flicking switches here.

At the top of the stairs, she paused to listen. All she heard was a triple chorus of deep, regular breathing. She nodded to Calidius. He slanted her an approving look and headed down the hall toward her bedroom. His strides were long and confident. Why not? He knew the way.

The door shut with a slightly disturbing thud. Nicole resisted the urge to run back and fling it open. She set the lamp on the chest of drawers. By its dim, flickering light, she barred the door as quietly as she could. When she turned back to face the room, she saw two things. The first was what lay beside the lamp on the chest, that Nicole had certainly never put there: a twist of wool and a small wooden box. Nicole could well guess what it contained. Wool and pine resin, Julia had told her. Julia, it seemed, had decided to help Nicole in the best way she could.

The second thing Nicole saw was Calidius Severus standing by the bed. The light made him look younger, and really, not bad at all in his Latin way. Better than Frank Perrin had ever been, that much she could be sure of.