Kraving Khiva by Zoey Draven

Chapter Nine

Eve hunched over the book, her eyes straining as she concentrated on the task at hand, not daring to blink as she brushed the wax over the delicate edges of the pages with the smallest brush in her bundle.

It was a quiet night at Wrenton’s Books and Antiques. The shop had long closed, but Mr. Wrenton had asked her to stay behind to work on a book restoration for a collector. Eve had been relieved to stay, anything to occupy her waking thoughts.

She was the best book restorer in all of Everton, even better than Mr. Wrenton…and her employer would be the first to say so. It was why he tasked her with the most expensive and thereby the oldest of the Old Earth books that had been saved and preserved through the years.

The particular book she was rebinding that night was from the year 1988, published in a place called New York City. That was the first thing Eve looked for…the date, the place. She was fascinated with the old books and it was hard for her to comprehend what 1988 looked like in a place called New York City. She’d read about the city, of course, had listened to old music and old films that referenced it regularly. But it still seemed like an unreachable place in an even more unreachable time.

It was nearly silent in the warm shop, except for the gentle buzz of the generators. Sweat rolled down her back, since she’d accidentally left the fire on for too long, but she was so focused on her work that it didn’t bother her.

With one last swipe of wax, she finished securing the loose pages to the spine. The book had come to her in tatters and during her inspection, she noticed a few pages had been missing from what seemed like an old mystery novel. She made a note of it for the buyer. It would lower its value but not by much.

She flipped the pages carefully once the wax dried, making sure that the spine was still pliable. Eve smiled when she was happy with it, straightening from the table, blowing out a breath when her back twinged.

When her eyes focused on the antique clock hanging on the wall of the work room, she saw that the shop had been closed for four hours already and that it would be dark out by then.

She couldn’t help but notice, as she’d been doing the past few days, that she only had to wait 46 more hours until she visited Khiva again.

Eve jumped when her Nu tablet chirped loudly from its docking port. She always brought it to work with her since she read during her breaks.

When she walked over to it, she saw it was Genni.

“Hi,” Eve greeted once she accepted the call. A hologram of her friend’s face appeared just above the screen, the beams of blue light projected from the tablet’s surface. “What are you up to?”

“Seeing what you’re up to,” Genni replied, grinning. “Since you’ve been avoiding me and everything.”

Eve blinked, a flush of guilt flooding her cheeks. Thankfully, Genni wouldn’t be able to see it since the hologram was patchy in places…not to mention blue.

“I’ve just been really busy with work,” she said. It wasn’t untrue, but it still felt like a small lie. “I’m still here actually, working on a book.”

The truth was that Eve had been avoiding her friend because she knew that the moment they saw each other in person, Genni would know something was up…and that something was that Eve had visited one of the Krave. And Genni would’ve dragged it out of her eventually.

And for some reason…Eve didn’t want her to know. Not that she was ashamed of it, but a silly part of her just wanted to keep the knowledge of Khiva to herself.

Just for a little bit longer, at least.

Even Eve could see the pout on Genni’s lips. “I was going to invite you over to Erik’s with me. He’s having a small party tonight.”

Erik was her latest lover, or so she’d gathered through the brief calls they’d shared over the weekend after she ditched the tailor who worked next to the beauty shop. Genni had met him through a mutual friend, or rather one of her clients at the salon, which meant that Erik was rich. That was always enough for Genni, though she’d confessed that he was at least fifteen years older.

Apparently, the sex was fantastic, or so Genni claimed.

Eve could see the path this relationship would play out, just like all the ones before it, but she knew it wasn’t her place to say anything. She’d made that mistake in the past and had learned her lesson. Secretly, Genni knew how it would turn out too, though she held onto hope that maybe Erik was the one.

“Sorry,” Eve said, but didn’t really mean it. She’d been dragged to exactly three parties by Genni and every single one of them had turned out the same: her feeling left out and awkward while Genni flirted shamelessly with whoever she’d gone for. “I have to close up here soon and then I’m just going to head home to relax.”

Genni didn’t like that. Eve heard it in her impatient sigh. “You know, you’re never going to meet anyone if you don’t try, Evelyn.”

Eve bit her tongue before she could say anything bitchy, something along the lines of her not wanting to meet anyone like the men Genni went after.

In a dry tone, Eve said instead, “I think I’m past that age where it even matters, Genni.”

Which might’ve not been much better, considering her friend was only a year younger than she was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Genni asked, her voice carefully quiet, her eyes direct. She didn’t even blink as she waited for Eve to answer.

Eve sighed, not wanting to pick a fight, but already knowing that Genni would take it there. “You know what I mean, Genni. It just means I’ve accepted I won’t be anyone’s wife, not on Everton. And truthfully…I’m thankful for it.”

“Don’t look down on me just because I haven’t given up, Evelyn,” Genni said, her tone sharp. “You always do this!”

“Do what?” Eve asked, surprised. “I don’t look down on you, Genni.”

“Not all of us have the luxury of giving up,” Genni said, her anger growing. “You think I want to work at the beauty shop until I’m dead? No. I want to be taken care of. And I certainly don’t have thousands and thousands of credits that my dead dad left me.”

Eve froze. It wasn’t the first time that Genni had thrown her inheritance in her face, but she’d never done it so directly and with so much disgust in her voice.

She was so stunned and hurt that her ‘friend’ would even say something like that, knowing how much her father’s death still cut her.

But she recovered quickly and said, in a controlled tone, “I’m not going to talk to you when you’re like this, Genni. Enjoy your party.”

Then she disconnected the call with a deliberate swipe of her hand.

Eve knew that Genni had a temper and she knew that come morning, her friend would probably call back and apologize profusely for saying something so hurtful. But Eve was tired of it, she was tired of pretending that it was okay.

She sighed, taking a moment to compose herself before she wrapped up the delicate book for the night. When she got her emotions under control, she did just that before closing up Mr. Wrenton’s shop. It was only a short walk to the tram and only a ten minute ride to the Garden District.

And once she reached her townhouse, she shook off the slight chill in the air. It was the Programmers’ way of saying the season was about to change and Eve was glad for it. She preferred colder weather.

For some reason, the moment she entered the townhouse, she went into her father’s study…now her own. It was where he had often spent his nights before dinner, pouring over his business transactions, or researching fair market prices for his goods among the colonies, or calculating how much fuel he would require on his next drop.

Eve opened the top drawer and opened the letter she’d read over a hundred times since his death. It was her inheritance contract, which her father had written out, by hand, himself. At the time of his death, the amount he’d left her had been 58,980 credits, but it was now well over 80,000 through investment. Including the townhouse, his precious antiques, and the two cargo ships that were currently sitting vacant and unused in Port, her net worth was well over 400,000 credits.

She’d never touched a single one.

Genni accused her of being rich…and in her own way, Eve was. But what Eve didn’t appreciate was Genni implying that she didn’t work hard because of it.

She worked just as hard as Genni, worked just as many hours at her job, if not more.

She’s just frightened, Eve needed to remind herself. It was a chilling prospect to be a woman, alone, with no family, and aging on Everton if you didn’t have an inheritance or ample savings.

It’s not an excuse,Eve thought. It doesn’t give Genni the right to say hurtful things.

She sighed, feeling her chest squeeze as she read over her father’s written words.

The last line of the inheritance contract always made her cry and right then was no different.

It read: And lastly, I give you my love, so that it will be with you always.

Eve closed her eyes, wiping her cheek, before carefully folding and tucking the paper away. It was, perhaps, one of the most precious things to her. Her father had never written anything down in handwriting. Handwriting was almost as dated and old as the antiques he’d surrounded himself with. But, it was as if he’d known how comforting it would be to her to have her inheritance contract written so.

Handwriting was special. It was as different and unique as a fingerprint and she had three pages worth of her father’s.

Eve left the study, carefully closing the door behind her. Sometimes it felt like she lived in a museum of her father’s things, but she’d allowed that to happen. When she was still surrounded by his things, sometimes she could pretend that he was still with her.

It was entirely possible that he was still alive. His cargo ship had never been found, thought to be destroyed by meteors. And for a long time, Eve had held onto that hope. But every passing year tamped some of that hope down, farther and farther into her chest.

He’d never been declared dead, only missing.

But Eve knew.

Deep down inside, she knew that he was gone. She could feel it. And for some reason, that night, that knowledge hit her harder than it had before. And maybe it was because she’d just had a fight with her only friend, but the loneliness that night was debilitating. It was crushing.

40 more hours, she thought sometime later, after she’d eaten and had her cup of tea by the fire and once she was dried up of her tears.

Only 40 more hours until she could see him.

And maybe then, she might not feel so alone in the universe anymore.