The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [182]
“I love you, Jondalar.” It was a simple declarative statement. “It won’t be easy to get over you, but you gave me something. I was afraid to love. I lost so many loves that I pushed all feelings of love away. I knew I would lose you, Jondalar, but I loved you anyway. Now I know I can love again, and if I lose it, it doesn’t take away the love that was. You gave that to me. And maybe something more.” The mystery of a woman came into her smile. “Soon, perhaps, someone will come into my life that I can love. It’s a little early to tell for sure, but I think the Mother has blessed me. I didn’t think it was possible after the last one I lost—I’ve been many years without Her blessing. It may be a child of your spirit. I’ll know if the baby has your eyes.”
The familiar furrows appeared on his forehead. “Serenio, I must stay then. You have no man at your hearth to provide for you and the child,” he said.
“Jondalar, you don’t have to worry. No mother or her children ever lack for care. Mudo has said all those She blesses must be succored. That’s why She made men, to bring to mothers the gifts of the Great Earth Mother. The Cave will provide, as She provides for all Her children. You must follow your destiny, and I will follow mine. I won’t forget you, and if I have a child of your spirit, I will think of you, just as I remember the man I loved when Darvo was born.”
Serenio had changed, but she still made no demands, placed no burden of obligation on him. He put his arms around her. She looked into his compelling blue eyes. Her eyes hid nothing, not the love she felt, or her sadness in losing him, and not her joy in the treasure she hoped she carried. Through a crack, they could see the faint light that heralded a new day. He got up.
“Where are you going, Jondalar?”
“Just outside. I’ve had too much tea.” He smiled, and it reached his eyes. “But keep the bed warm. The night isn’t over yet.” He bent over and kissed her. “Serenio”—his voice was husky with feeling—“you mean more to me than any woman I have ever known.”
It wasn’t quite enough. He would leave, though she knew if she asked he would stay. But she did not ask, and in return he gave her the most he could. And that was more than most women would ever get,
18
“Mother said you wanted to see me.”
Jondalar could see tension in the set of Darvo’s shoulders and the wary look in his eyes. He knew the boy had been avoiding him, and he suspected the reason. The tall man smiled, trying to seem casual and relaxed, but the hesitancy in his usual warm fondness made Darvo more nervous; he didn’t want his fears confirmed. Jondalar had not been looking forward to telling the boy, either. He took down a neatly folded garment from a shelf and shook it out,
“I think you are almost big enough for this, Darvo, I want to give it to you.”
For a moment the boy’s eyes lit with pleasure at the Zelandonii shirt with its intricate and exotic decoration; then the wariness returned. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he accused.
“Thonolan is my brother, Darvo …”
“And I’m nothing.”
“That’s not true. You must know how much I care about you. But Thonolan is so full of grief, he’s not reasonable. I fear for him. I can’t let him go alone, and if I don’t look after him, who will? Please try to understand, I don’t want to go farther east.”
“Will you come back?”
Jondalar paused. “I don’t know. I can’t promise. I don’t know where we’re going, how long we’ll travel.” He proffered the shirt, “That’s why I want to give you this, so you’ll have something to remember the ‘Zelandonii man.’ Darvo, listen to me. You will always be the first son of my hearth.”
The boy looked at the beaded tunic; then tears welled and threatened to break. “I’m not the son of your hearth!” he cried, then turned and ran from the dwelling.
Jondalar wanted to run after him. Instead, he placed the shirt on Darvo’s sleeping platform and walked slowly out.
Carlono frowned at the lowering clouds. “I think the weather will hold,”