Page 1 of An Alien for Her Heart

1

CATHERINE

Life isn’t meant to be a smooth ride.

No matter who you are, it’s meant to build you up or knock you down. I’ve had a lot of that knocking down. Thought I was used to it. Stronger than it.

Years of patience. Years of growth. Years of learning lesson after lesson.

Thought I was better.

I didn’t think it would ever end up like this.

Sitting here outside my homestead, those words stick as my gaze travels over the view before me. My chair leans till it touches the cottage’s stone walls, my weight sinking into the worn wood. The wind is soft, the air warm. Both caress me as I pull my shawl tighter across my shoulders and release a long breath of my own. Just…breathing with the wind.

Far out in the field before me, the tall grasses sway as strange cow-hippo animals called oogas mill about, grazing without a care in the world. It’s all so peaceful, so very different from the last few years of my life, that I’m caught in a sort of trance, consciously taking it all in.

This is all mine. The cottage. The field. The farm. The animals. This piece of land out here on these alien plains belongsto me now. I blink at it, taking in the view and still blinking as if expecting my vision to clear. As if expecting it all to disappear when I lift my head from my pillow and realize that all I was doing was dreaming all along.

As far as my eyes can see, fields upon fields spread out to touch the horizon. It’s quiet out here. Secluded. Perfect solitude for a weary traveler.

And Iamweary. So very tired. The sort of tiredness that isn’t etched in my muscles or my bones, but someplace far deeper.

I grip the shawl tighter, even though the air isn’t remotely cold. The bright star above is warm, but the shawl tightens around me like a comforting caress. Another breath eases its way through my chest, floating to meet the wind. I gaze across the plains, not really seeing them now. Not seeing anything before me except the old memories that begin creeping in. Old dreams. Old pain.

I’m caught in my thoughts, becoming swallowed by them, when there’s a sharp thud that tugs me from the depths of my own mind. I jerk, lurching back into the present and almost falling off the chair in the process. Reality snaps back as I jump to my feet, my gaze turning to the roof above me. There’s a workman—or rather, a working male—up there doing repairs. So caught up in my thoughts, I’d forgotten about him. Forgotten I’d stepped outside the cottage for some fresh air, and perhaps even a chance to talk to him. Learn more about this new world I’ve now settled on.

Lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the sun’s glare, I step back so I can see him better. “Everything alright up there?”

The workman startles—perhaps he’d forgotten about me, too—and a curved roofing tool slips from his grasp. It slides down on the thatched roof straight in my direction. I don’t react fast enough. Luckily, it snags on something, hanging halfway off the roof’s edge. My eyes widen as the roofer steps back, reaching forit. Retreating a further step, I watch his precarious footing. His balance seems wonky, but he keeps his foothold on a floating black tile that hovers suspended in the air just beneath him.

“All is well. Greetings,” he finally replies as he grabs hold of the tool and gives me a nod in the process.

I nod back, not sure what to say now.

He’s a Raki. The species I was advised to hire for all the repairs my new homestead needs. He’s gray-skinned. Has a long trunk, small eyes, and bushy eyebrows. He looks like an elephant, even having the large ears to match, but he’s much smaller than a full-grown one. Probably the size of what would be a baby elephant back on Earth. He barely tops my waist when we’re standing side by side. But I guess that doesn’t count. I’m a tall woman.

He ignores me now as he returns to his work, and I nod again. Maybe to myself this time. But maybe I’m desperate—or something. Desperate to not fall back into the void of my thoughts. It’s the reason I stand here, looking up at the roof, at the alien working there, shoulders turned away from me as he deliberately ignores me, and I still open my mouth and speak.

“How’s it coming on?” I ask, even though I can see his progress with my own eyes. The Raki works slowly. It’s been a month since I signed up for the New Horizons Initiative. A month since their representative brought me out to live on these plains. A month since my new life began. And the roof is only halfway done. He’s slow, but he’s cheap and he’s reliable. Turns up every day. Does his work without a fuss and then leaves again.

“All is progress.” His gaze shifts to me only briefly before he looks away once more. “Greetings.”

“Greetings.” I press a tight smile on my face and pull the shawl so tight across my shoulders that the fibers protest. It’s been like this each time I’ve tried to have a conversation withhim. Either the Raki are not used to small talk or this one just doesn’t want to speak tome. Which is okay…I suppose. I’ve hired him to work, not keep me company.

I’m no stranger to being alone. I was alone long before aliens decided to disrupt my existence. I’m used to it.

I press a brighter smile on my face and turn my attention back to the field, choosing not to focus on the fact that the Raki is ignoring me once more. If his little distraction has done anything, it’s reminded me that I can’t just sit here in the sun, stuck in a loop of memories and dreams. I have work to do. I stare at the field, watching the animals for a moment before I nod to myself. I should get out there. Continue clearing that field. It beats sitting in the house all day, staring at the plains and wondering how life changed so much that I ended up here.

Clearing my throat, I shoot one last glance at the Raki before I head to the barn. It’s warm inside the building, probably because of the large holes in the roof that give me a view of the bright pink sky. Bits of thin clouds float by above like wisps in the atmosphere, their view unimpeded. I eye the holes, knowing the Raki will take another few months before he’ll get to repairing those, too. Until then, there’s not much I can do with the barn, and that slows things down. I can’t move the animals in, can’t start storing hay or any feed, and I certainly can’t fix those holes myself. I’ll just have to wait and make do till the situation improves. Heading to one corner, I stop at the tools I’d found lying about the place and stashed in a big pile there.

Leaning down, I grab something that looks like a large pair of scissors. It’s the only tool out of the lot that can do the job I want and, though somewhat rusty, it’s worked well so far. In the month that I’ve been out here, I’ve managed to clear a tenth of the field of tall grass. The only problem is that it’s already growing back. By the time I finish cutting one side and start on the other, the field will be a full-blown grassy savannah again.

I try not to think about it. Try not to let the sheer enormity of this challenge get me down. I signed up with New Horizons because I wanted a fresh start. This is it. Nobody said it was going to be easy and I didn’t come here expecting it to be. I’ll push through it, and in the meantime, I’ll push those forlorn thoughts away, too. I might be in my sixties but my strength is still there. God knows it is. Otherwise, I’d have given up a long time ago. And I don’t quit.

So I grip the oversized scissors, the weight of it somewhat grounding as I step out of the barn. The Raki on the roof lifts his head, his gaze finding me almost reluctantly. I smile, gesturing to the scissors in my grasp.

“Just going to cut the hay.” I can tell the moment the words leave my mouth that my attempt at conversation has been once again deflected by his shield of disinterest.

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