It Might Have Passed
Mary Stacy
Sa/Am G
It might have passed her by without notice here where desert winds always
blew. There were no seasons to speak of—time was only measured in the rising
and setting of the sun each day, the number of days in a month, the number of
months in a year. If the sun was ever a little further away or the days a
little shorter, it was not such that she could discern with her senses.
There was no call to celebrate the returning of a sun that never turned its
relentless gaze away, except in advance of night.
Were it not for the need to stop at the Earth Embassy for one of her
transcripts, Amanda would never had known of the nearness of the holiday. Not
knowing, it would have come and gone, and once she had realized it had, she
might feel a little sad, but nothing more than a fragile moment. Now,
having come upon the Embassy, decked in holiday finery, she was lost in a sea
of memories of what she had given up, and with Sarek sequestered in meetings
indefinitely, she had no one to remind her of why.
The staff having felt sorry for the poor, lost lamb that she appeared to them,
had invited her to stay, have some holiday cheer, but she quietly thanked them
and declined. This was something that she was no longer a part of. She
did her business then went on, as any good Vulcan would, unsuccessfully trying
to seem untouched by memories.
So here she was on Christmas Eve Day, roaming the streets of ShiKahr, in the heat
that she was supposed to stay out of. She wove in and out of a maze of shops,
where today was just today. Here, there were never any bustling crowds,
only polite clusters of two or three, stepping aside as she entered then left
empty-handed, looking for something she had no hope of finding.
As the afternoon heat rose higher, and the wind retreated for its afternoon
break, she finally headed home. She turned up the cooling unit that Sarek
had installed in her study, curled up on her chaise, and slept, dreaming of
lost sugarplums.
She woke up stiff and cold to the sound of the cooling unit finally shutting
off. It was never good to crank it up like that, she had enough problems trying
to acclimate herself, but she could pretend it was winter, if only a short
while. Now the sun had gone down and the air had started to cool on its
own. She pulled herself up and stretched, trying to work out the
stiffness in her neck. There was really nothing left to do but to find a book
to lose herself in and curl up in bed, where she could plump the pillows next
to her and pretend that she wasn't alone.
She opened the study door and started to turn toward their bedroom, quietly
starting to hum.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas."
But that wasn't just her humming. She turned and moved toward the
direction of the public rooms in the other wing. The music was soft, but it was
there, and as she turned the corner, she could see a soft light peeking through
the carved latticework that surrounded the doorway.
The front room had been decked in garlands of fragrant pine and lit in
candlelight. In the center of the room a small tree was decked in multicolored
lights, sparkling like stars in a moonless night sky. She caught her
breath. Earlier, she had almost forgotten it was Christmas Eve, but…
Amanda felt the gentle brush of his presence in the dark corner of the
room. She knew he was there long before he came into the light.
"Sarek, you didn't need to--" His fingers brushed her lips silencing
them before she could continue.
"I did," he replied and she felt herself swept into his arms, a
present more exquisite than any she would ever have once imagined.