Wash took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of a few good things about his current state so he could shunt the anxiety to the back of his mind. He had his arms around Zoe, for one. Having Zoe in his arms was always a major mark on the “good things” scale. When he tried to think of a few other positives, however, his nervous mind had to strain and his heart started to race again.

He shook his head. A lot of his friends from flight school would have been surprised to see him suffering from a bout of anxiety. “Easy-going,” “laid-back,” and other similar adjectives had always been applied to him. He tried again.

Well, he had eaten dinner, the prospect of having breakfast looked solid, and they were staying at a place that actually had a bathtub –Zoe must have inherited her love of baths from her mother. Those were all good things. He and Zoe were currently sleeping on a pile of hay, but that was standard accommodations in these parts as many people did not have proper beds, let alone beds for their guests. The loft was pleasantly warm.

Zoe stirred slightly. “You okay, baby?” she murmured.

“Sorry I woke you,” Wash whispered back against her mass of dark curls, wondering how the trained solider could sleep in any sort of condition once her mind willed it, but somehow also knew exactly when she needed to wake.

“It’s all right. Is somethin’ botherin’ you, husband?”

“Wo hao,” Wash reassured her. “It’s just harder for me to fall asleep in a strange bed….er, strange pile of hay, I mean,” he smiled, “than it is for you, my soldier wife.”

Zoe nodded, her head slumped back down, and Wash knew that she was asleep within seconds. He also knew that slumber would not arrive that quickly, if at all, for him tonight. He tried to brush away the many worries that relentlessly nipped at his mind.

*** “I want to again see that handsome man my daughter married! When is he going to wake up and come down from that loft?”

“Mom, let him sleep. We had a long trip here yesterday, and he’s tired. He didn’t fall asleep ‘till really late,” Zoe insisted.

“All right dear. Maybe the smell of breakfast cooking will entice him.”

Zoe glanced at the kettle. It was full of oatmeal seasoned with cinnamon and chunks of a couple apples slightly past their prime. It would serve as a hearty breakfast.

Zoe and Wash had arrived at Zoe’s parents’ cottage late last night. Her father, Arthur, hated to be woken up so her mother had hidden the key in a pre-determined spot in the backyard so that Zoe and Wash could let themselves in. They had silently crept up to the loft where a small light had been left on near the pile of hay that was to serve as their bed. They hadn’t seen Zoe’s parents since their wedding, about sixteen months ago.

“So that captain of yours is really givin’ you time off to come to your parents’ 30th anniversary party?” her mother, Saikara, asked as Zoe began to set the table with four bowls. “Couldn’t believe it when I got your wave.”

Zoe briefly considered telling her mother the truth but then felt that a harmless lie would be permissible in this situation. “He is.” And then she added, honestly, “Cap’n’s a good man.”

The truth of the situation was that Mal was working on a heist and his contact currently resided on this very planet, albeit far from this village. The timing of the situation could not have been more serendipitous and fortunate: Zoe’s parents’ wedding anniversary coinciding with a potential money-making opportunity, an opportunity that was looking more and more feasible. Mal had gone into the distant town last night to hunt down his contact and discuss details. He was more than amenable to Zoe and Wash taking a day or two off until this proposition could take shape.

Zoe did not want to ruminate on the question as to whether or not Mal would have allowed them the time off had there been no business prospect on the planet.

She decided that a change of topic was in order. As she found four spoons for the table, she asked, “What time’s Parker getting’ here?” Parker was Zoe’s half-brother, the result of Saikara’s brief first marriage to a man who died just two years after their wedding. Parker, his wife Abby, and their toddler would be attending tonight’s festivities – as would most of the small village.

“Said he’d be here after lunch to help with the decorating.”

“We have decorations?” Zoe asked. She knew this event was important but her mother had told her very little of the details. Saikara knew that Zoe wasn’t much into planning parties anyway; Zoe’s own wedding had been devoid of much “foofaraw” as Zoe had termed it.

“Well, honey, it’s our 30th anniversary!” Saikara began to describe some of the planned events. There would be music and dancing, thanks to a small group of locals who played fiddles and banjos together. Several neighbors promised to bring flowers to help liven up the surroundings. “We’ve even got the local preacher comin’ in to say a few words about marriage. I’m going to speak too,” she concluded, straightening her back slightly. “Sounds lovely,” Zoe commented sincerely.

Saikara shook her head. “Ain’t all been a rose garden though. The colony hasn’t had a shipment of sugar in months and I got no dessert to feed to people other than apples and oranges.”

“Not a big deal,” Zoe said. “Folk here are used to that and you know it. A lot of people don’t even get oranges that often.”

“We’ve had other problems,” Saikara continued. “This house is so small I don’t think we can even fit everyone in here. I hate the idea of guests having to sit on the floor. And that ain’t even the worst of it!” she added, just remembering something. “I’d been hiding some tins of herring – you know how your dad loves that fish. But someone stole them!”

“That’s disappointing. Any idea who?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that god-for-nothing goatherd or one of his….” Saikara’s voice trailed off as she heard the sounds of her son-in-law descending the ladder from the loft.

She went up to Wash and embraced him. “There you are! It’s so good to see you.” Saikara reached up and patted his hair, the color of which was nearly the same as her own before it went gray. Her eyes were a deeper blue than his though.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Wash said, returning the hug.

“I told you to call me Saikara!” she protested playfully.

“Then Saikara it is!”

The bedroom door creaked as Arthur emerged, rubbing the slumber from his eyes. Zoe glanced at Wash and saw him tense up.

Arthur moved slowly, aided by a cane held in his gnarled hands. His body still resembled an imposing mass, though much of his strength had been sapped by Milner’s disease. He kissed Zoe’s cheek and embraced his wife. His greeting to Wash was a grunt. Zoe smiled apologetically in her husband’s direction.

*** Parker and Abby arrived in the afternoon, their three year-old son in tow. The boy screamed loudly and ran about the cabin as Parker sat and talked to his mother.

Later Zoe and Saikara busied themselves with food preparation – one of Zoe’s decidedly least favorite tasks but one she knew her mother needed a responsible assistant for today – as Wash worked with Parker and Abby to clean the place and decorate.

“You’re doing it wrong!” Abby muttered dismissively to Parker, with a shake of her head, as he tried to sweep the floor. Their son continued to shriek intermittently as they ignored him.

Wash dusted the few items of furniture and tried to tune the couple out. He noticed several pictures atop the rough shelf above the fireplace, one of which featured Zoe’s younger brother who had succumbed to Milner’s disease as a boy.

After the cleaning was finished, Parker and Abby attempted to hang some festive greenery but argued loudly about the best location. “Just let me do it!” Parker snapped, a look of disdain on his face, as he grabbed the greens from Abby’s hands.

Wash looked at Parker and Abby and then turned towards the bathroom and found himself colliding with Zoe’s father.

“I’m so sorry!” Wash apologized, reaching his arms out as if to steady Arthur. “Are you all right? I’m such a klutz.”

Arthur muttered something that sounded as if it contained the word “okay” though Wash couldn’t be sure.

*** As the sun began to set, the household was finally ready for the party and neighbors began to filter inside. Soon the cottage was filled with the steady hum of numerous conversations and laughter. Zoe and Wash, along with Parker and Abby, greeted guests as they arrived and helped ensure each was helped to food and drink. Most of the townspeople had never met Zoe and Wash and eagerly shook their hands. Zoe listened to Wash’s conversations with the people and missed his trademark humor; he sounded stiff and formal.

“Husband, I appreciate you comin’ with me for this,” Zoe said when they were finally allowed a chance to sit down and relax. As the cottage was full, they sat together on the porch steps, enjoying a moment of peace and a breath of crisp, fresh air. “I see every minute’s been an ordeal for you.”

Wash feebly protested as Zoe reached for one of his hands and held it. “You didn’t sleep much last night either. And it ain’t the heist comin’ up that’s botherin’ you.”

“Oh, the heist is definitely bothering me,” Wash insisted. “Heists are never worry-free events for me. I do suffer some heist-anxiety.” No matter how much he tried to feel otherwise, Wash didn’t like crime. He wished it were possible for them to make a more honest living in the ‘verse and he hoped Zoe would someday agree. He took a swig of his ale.

Zoe listened and nodded, then looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “It’s just the way he is,” Zoe said. “I told you that before you met my Dad and I should’ve told you again before we came last night. He’s stern and he’s real quiet. And he’s in a lotta pain now too. He don’t talk much, but underneath it I think he likes you. He just won’t show it or give any indication for another three years or so. Besides, you know he ain’t really happy bein’ here. He’d rather be out in space if he could, if that damn disease didn’t make it impossible. Mom says the air here’s helped a bit.”

“Wow, lambie-toes, that was practically a speech for you!” Wash exclaimed, still unused to hearing Zoe speak more than a few sentences at a time. “Maybe you ought to give a speech of your own when the preacher and your mom are done with theirs.”

Zoe returned his smile, muttered, “Not likely,” and wondered if the discussion was closed before looking at Wash again.

He sighed and admitted, “It does bother me a bit, feeling like the man can’t stand me. There’s not a fellow in the ‘verse who doesn’t wish his in-laws liked him. But I can handle the situation – and I still have vowed to make him laugh some day!”

Zoe nodded. “I look forward to that day. ‘Sides -- in-laws are inherently stressful. I worried before I met your Mom.”

Wash cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really,” Zoe insisted, though on the surface she had appeared her normal calm when she had met Wash’s mother. Zoe’s eyes then narrowed. “Is it somethin’ else botherin’ you? Somethin’ in addition to all that?”

Wash nodded. “I guess it’s mostly your brother and his wife that bring me down. They were like that at our wedding and it looks like things have gotten worse.”

“I know,” Zoe agreed glumly.

“I can understand arguing. Everyone argues. We’ve had a few good ones ourselves and we haven’t even been married two years yet. But it’s the way they talk to each other. Like they can’t stand each other. Like the other person isn’t even worthy of their respect. And I don’t think their having a child seems to have helped anything. I actually have to pity the kid.”

Zoe reached one hand towards Wash’s face and gently stroked his chin. “I get where you’re comin’ from. But what’s it to you? So they hate each other, they get divorced someday. Don’t mean anything to us.”

Wash abruptly turned his head and Zoe’s stroking motion stopped. “But it does. It means something to me. I see people that unhappy and I get worried. I start to fear that we’ll be that way someday.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you, dear. We won’t. We promised to love each other and respect each other. Try to work things out when we got problems. We took vows on that. So we ain’t gonna get like that.” Zoe took a breath and added, even more firmly, “And our kid’s gonna be a lot better disciplined than their little tyke, too!”

Wash felt another lurch of his insides – thoughts of fatherhood did not help ease his numerous anxieties -- but last time they had discussed the subject, they had both agreed that now was not the time to start a family. He felt his breathing return to normal when he focused on Zoe’s words about their wedding vows.

“You’re right. Vows. We took vows. We stick to them and respect each other and keep from snapping at each other when one of us does something not the way the other wants….we’ll be fine!”

Zoe was just reaching for his chin to turn it in her direction and give him a kiss when the musicians began a lively song. Their kiss was interrupted by the flight of a few children bounding up the porch steps to the party.

“Care to dance?” Wash asked, offering his arm.

“I’d love to,” Zoe responded.

As they entered the warm cottage filled with music, Wash visibly relaxed. Perhaps, Zoe speculated, the musicians would do a polka soon. If Wash’s crazy interpretation of the dance did not get Zoe’s father to laugh, nothing would.

THE END

Comments and feedback are always welcome.