The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [328]
“I don’t know,” Ayla said.
“He was always here when I went to bed before. I’m glad you’re here, mother, but I like it better when you’re both here,” Jonayla said.
The thought echoed through Ayla’s mind. Yes, so do I, but he wanted to be with Marona.
When Ayla woke the next morning, it took her a few moments to recognize where she was. The inside of the structure was familiar; she had slept in similar ones often. Then it came to her. She was at the Summer Meeting. She glanced toward the place where her daughter usually slept. Jonayla was already gone. The child usually awoke suddenly, and was up and out of bed the next instant. Ayla smiled and looked beside her at Jondalar’s place. He wasn’t there, and it was obvious he had stayed away all night. Suddenly it all came crashing down on her again. Thinking where he might have been made the hot sting of tears rise and threaten to overflow.
Ayla had learned most of the customs of her adopted people, and had heard stories and Legends that helped to explain them, but she wasn’t born into the culture, and appropriate behavior wasn’t bred into her bones. She knew the general attitude about jealousy, but primarily in reference to Jondalar’s lack of control as a youth. She felt that she had to demonstrate her ability to manage her emotions.
Her experience in the cave had been such a physically and emotionally wrenching ordeal, she was not thinking clearly. She was afraid to turn to anyone for help, afraid it would show that, like Jondalar, she could not control herself. But she was so devasted that, unconsciously, she wanted to strike out, make him feel her pain. She hurt, and she wanted to hurt back, make him sorry. She even considered going back into the cave and begging the Mother to take her, just to make Jondalar sorry.
She forced back her tears. I will not cry, she thought. She had learned to control her tears long ago, when she lived with the Clan. No one will know how I feel, she thought. I will act as though nothing happened. I will visit friends, I will join in the activities, I will meet with the other acolytes, I will do everything I’m supposed to.
Ayla lay awake, gathering courage to get up and face the day. I will have to talk to Zelandoni and tell her what happened in the cave. It will not be easy to keep anything from her. She always knows. But I can’t let her know. I can’t tell her that I know how jealousy feels.
Everyone who shared the tent with them knew something had happened between Ayla and Jondalar, and most had a fair idea what it was. For all that he thought he was being discreet, everyone knew about Marona and him—Marona enjoyed flaunting it too much. They had been glad to see Ayla come so things could get back to normal. But when Ayla stayed away all afternoon, a disheveled Marona tried to sneak back a different way, then packed up all her things and left, and Jondalar returned conspicuously disturbed and didn’t come back that night to sleep, it wasn’t hard to draw conclusions.
When Ayla finally got up, several people were sitting around a fire outside having a morning meal. It was still early, earlier than she thought. Ayla joined them.
“Proleva, do you know where Jonayla is? I promised her I’d go riding with her today, but I have to talk to Zelandoni first,” Ayla said.
Proleva studied her closely. She was handling it much better today; someone who didn’t know her might not realize anything was wrong, but Proleva knew her better than most.
“Jonayla went to Levela’s again. She’s been spending a lot of time there, and Levela loves it. That little sister of mine has loved having a camp full of children around since she was born, I think,” Proleva said. “Zelandoni did ask me to tell you that she wants to see you as soon as you can. She said she’ll be available all morning.”
“I’ll go after I eat, but I think I’ll stop off and greet Marsheval and Levela on my way,” Ayla said.
“They’d like that,” Proleva said.
As Ayla approached the campsite, she heard childish voices raised in a squabble. “So