do what a man's gotta do . She didn't know where she'd heard that phrase, but she suddenly realized it was true. And on the heels of that bit of wisdom came the memory of a line she'd heard in the movieParenthood . Women have choices, Steve Martin's character had said to his wife, men have responsibilities.
At the time, the seemingly chauvinistic remark had made her want to throw up. Now she wanted to cry.
Giving herself a mental shake, Lainey forced the thought that Micah was leaving out of her mind, determined to enjoy whatever time they had left.
"You're very handsome, you know," she remarked, draping her arm across his waist. "Are all the men on Xanthia as good-looking as you are?"
Micah shrugged, inwardly pleased that she found him attractive. "To quote one of your people, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Our people are no different than yours. Some are more appealing than others. Some are tall, some short, some are thin, some are not."
He lifted a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. "But none of us has hair so black as yours, or skin so fair." His fingertip grazed her cheek. "No one has eyes so dark and lovely, or lips so soft."
His lips trailed feather-light kisses over her eyes and nose and mouth. "I will never forget you, Lainey St. John, nor will I ever join with another woman."
His words touched her heart and imprinted themselves on her soul.
"No, Micah..." Lainey placed her hand over his mouth to stifle the protest she saw in his eyes. "I want you to join withAdana ," she said, and meant it, though it killed her to say the words. "I want you to be a father, to giveAdana the child you can't give me."
He took her hand from his mouth. "No!" He looked at her in horror. "How can you even suggest such a thing?"
"Because I can't give you a child, and I don't want you to miss out on the opportunity to be a father. You said you could see your child if you wanted to. Maybe you can change things where you come from, make your people realize what they're missing by cutting themselves off from their children. And if not, you'll still have a child, someone who'll be a part of you."
"Lainey..." He turned on his side so they were face to face.
Unable to find the words to express what he was feeling, he folded her into his arms and held her close, knowing he would never forget her, that he would never forget this day.
It was near dusk when they made their way back to the cabin. Micah sat in the kitchen, watching while Lainey prepared dinner, and again found himself wondering how he could bring himself to leave her. It had been so easy to fall in love with her, so easy to adapt to her way of life. In spite of all the violence of her world, the pollution, the poverty, there was an excitement that was missing on Xanthia.
He watched her peel a potato and realized he had never seen a woman prepare a meal until he came here. On Xanthia, he had always eaten in restaurants, where the cooking and the serving were done by androids.
Sitting there, watching Lainey cook for him, appealed to some deep primal emotion he didn't quite understand. She hummed softly as she stood at the stove, and the sound of her voice wound around his heart, binding him to her in ways he didn't fully comprehend.
She smiled at him as she set the table, a bittersweet smile that made it difficult to swallow. He wished suddenly that the transmitter had been destroyed in the crash so that he would truly be stranded here, so that he'd have no choice but to stay, to spend his life here, with Lainey.
Dinner was a quiet meal. Lainey ate automatically, hardly aware of what she was eating. Micah was leaving. That single thought overshadowed everything else.
When they were finished, Micah helped her clear the table, then wiped the dishes while she washed.
When the last pot had been scrubbed, she stood at the sink, watching the water go down the drain. She could hear Micah moving around behind her, the clink of silverware as he put it in the drawer. It was such an ordinary thing, doing the dishes together, something any married couple might do. Such an ordinary thing that it brought tears