The BLTS Archive- Cranberry Wine
by Laura Jacquez Valentine (jacquez@dementia.org)

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Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek.  I own this story.  I make no
money from this story - it is distributed free of charge for the
enjoyment of fellow fans.  Hoi, hoi, u embleer hrair...

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I have heard that I am the envy of many.  Even here, on Vulcan, there
is gossip.  I wish I could rise up and tell them: this is hard, so
hard, as hard as growing cranberries in the desert.  But I keep my
silence.  I love him too much to tell others of this pain.

I think, sometimes, of pioneer women who were not strong enough; those
who went mad or who killed their children and husbands.  I am strong
enough to bear my burden.  I do not think Sarek would have chosen me
if I were not.  The other humans who have married Vulcans are strong
as well.  That may be chance, or it may simply be that curious Vulcan
talent for choosing exactly the right person for a job.

Sometimes that talent fails.  A month ago, I heard from T'Pau how
horribly it failed with Spock.

I have not spoken to Sarek since.

I want him to do what a human husband would do: "I'm sorry, Amanda, I
was wrong to bond Spock to T'Pring."

Instead, he watches me calmly and does not break the silence between
us.  The silence frightens me at times.  I wonder if it will stretch
as long as the one between Sarek and our son.  The silence is as sweet
and as sour as wine.

I wish I knew what to say to him to make him understand.  But after
all these years--if he were going to understand, he would have a long
time ago.  If I were going to understand--well, it's the same story
all over.

I don't understand why he cannot admit that he was wrong.  Why he
keeps tabs on Spock's career but never speaks of it.  Why he will not
speak to or about Spock, but sometimes sits for hours looking at holos
of him.

Why he cannot say "I'm sorry, Amanda."

We made love last night, in silence.  I lost myself in him, in the
gentle mindtouch Vulcans bring to sex.  I felt his grief over Spock's
failed marriage.  I felt how deeply he blamed himself.  But he would
not say it.  He pressed me close to him and kissed me, ran his hands
over me and gave me pleasure--but would not give me what I most wanted
from him.

Afterwards, he rested his head on my shoulder and wept, but he did not
apologize.  I ran fingers through his hair and soothed him, but
refused to say his name.

He is out walking now, alone, through the streets of ShiKahr.  There
are those who envy me, I know.  Married to Sarek, mother to Spock. 
Many women would trade places with me, given a chance.  But this is so
hard. I take a sip of wine, imported from Earth, and it wipes away the
sobs gathering in my throat.

I wish I could grow cranberries on Vulcan's Forge.

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The End