Here we close out Part 3. Each of these is longer than the previous, so I do wonder what kind of adventure Alicia will have.

For all of Anton Senior’s devotion to his wife, he’s still a guy and we guys will always look. Saras knows that full well, but chides him, anyway. It’s all in fun. I think her declaration at the end was a good way to wrap this up.

Next Monday: down the rabbit hole. Deus vult.

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Jet-black hair in curls past her shoulders, she could not have been more than five-five.  Her eyes, also black, were a surprise against the milky white skin of her face and arms.  Her green dress brought out all of her colors wonderfully…

“If you start drooling, Anton, I’ll cut you,” Saras said into the silence.

Sterling quickly stood and introduced his wife, helping her bring in several bags from her food shopping while Mary presented herself to the princess and her husband.

“Tommy can be so informal at times,” she said in a wonderful, deep Southern drawl, as thick as molasses.  “Ah hope y’all’s think of this as you-uns home, too.”

“After I put a shock collar onto my husband, we will,” Saras laughed.  “Thank you for putting up with us.”

At that, the youngest let out a huge yawn.

“Here, now,” Mary immediately took charge, easily picking him up.  “Looks like nap time!  Let’s get him bedded down, Princess…”

“Saras, please, Mary.”

“…in this room, right here.  Ah can also get you-uns a change of clothes, Saras.  Tommy’s told me something about how busy y’all have been these here days, and that this is your last stop, so, let’s we alls get business wrapped up, then I can make y’all some fine Southern cookin’.”

Mary paused at the door to the guest room.

“Southern Mars, that is,” she smiled with her perfect white little teeth.

“I’ll knock yours out if you keep staring like that, Husband!” Saras snarked at him.

Sterling finished in the kitchen just as his wife came out of the guest room.  They sat opposite Saras who now had a tee shirt on.

“I see your eldest son is on a work crew over a hundred miles to the east,” she said, picking up her cup.  “You other son is still on Earth?”

“Indeed,” he replied.  “The latter has one more year studying civil engineering, focusing on hydro projects, before shipping out to us, here.  My eldest?  Well…”

“The world needs ditch diggers, too,” Mary said with a rueful smile.  “He’s a good boy, but not too much on the ball.”

“Mind you,” Sterling added, “if there’s no administrative work to be done, I’m out there with a pick and shovel, or backhoe, too.  There’s too much to be done to allow for any idle time.”

“Speaking of,” he stood and returned with a map of Mars, spreading it out on the table, “while I know your wife can see with perfect precision where all of our teams are, I want you as well versed as possible.”

With the conversation getting technical quickly, Mary excused herself to start puttering in the kitchen.  Within about thirty minutes, Anton was pleased to smell oven-roasted chicken cooking.

“If she needs any help with the gravy…” he began.

“You squeeze in next to her in that tiny kitchen and it’ll be you in the oven, Ambassador!” Saras said.  Both of their hosts laughed.

In the guest room, the three knelt at the end of the bed and prayed.  As Saras’ mother was not at all religious, her Catholic faith was gossamer thin.  Following a decade of the rosary, they let their boy go on about “…his new friend, Ivan, and Miss Kira, and my baby sister, and…” until he finally rattled down.

Normally in his own bed at their home, Anton Junior was thrilled to once again be between his mother and father.  Although it was now a little too young for him, he produced his torn and wrinkled copy of Henge’s Big Day and went on to read it to the grownups.  He knew that some of the people in it were distant friends and relatives, and, Saras thought, that made him feel more connected to everyone.

Book down and light lowered, his parents talked while he drifted to sleep.

“Alicia likes that story, too,” her mother said.  “She remembers meeting Henge right before we left.”

“An amazing woman,” Anton admitted, without mentioning her beauty.  “Polite, ageless.”

“The latter haunts many of us,” she admitted.  “In that being what she is, whether or not she will ever die.  What a horrible curse.”

“She’s mortal.  She’ll be fine,” he countered, reaching over with his left hand to rub the back of her head.  “The empress is nearing sixty and looks barely forty.  And you are still quite the spring chicken, yourself!”

“…chicken…” their son mumbled, recalling their meal from last night.

“I wish we could stay a few days here, as a vacation after bouncing around this planet,” his mother sighed.  “But I know we cannot.  Everyone here is so busy and it would look bad for an imperial princess and her son to be making sandcastles on a beach of the Argyre Sea.  We leave tomorrow?”

“Right after sun up,” he nodded.  “Here to Neo-Yokohama is as far as it was from there to Ekaterinburg, so I’ll have everything ready to be sent home, er, back to Earth once we’re settled.”

“Yes,” she said softly, closing her eyes and leaning her head into his hand.  “This is our home.  We are Martians.”