They were so wrapped up in one another that they never stopped to think some of their foster siblings might have noticed, and certainly not that Mama and Papa could be aware of their meetings, for they would have stopped them at once, wouldn't they? They both felt guilty about it, but not very— just enough to add another level of thrill to their secret.
The family always went to the midsummer festival—that expedition was no surprise—and Papa always told them to go in three different wagons by three different routes so that they wouldn't seem so intimidating to the villagers; they didn't usually all come to town at once. This time, though, Finister and Orly exchanged a glance, then quickly looked away. It never occurred to them that their older siblings might have thought of this before them. They were only delighted at how easy it was to slip away.
Chapter 20
Finny and Orly managed to melt into the shadows while Papa and Mama were dividing up the family, letting each of the three groups think they were with the other. They hid until all three wagons had driven out onto the road. Then, secure in the knowledge that they were the only people on the farm that afternoon and evening, they crept out of their hiding places and ran toward the barn.
Finny reached the haymow first. She paced, waiting nervously and fretting, then heard boots on the ladder rungs. She turned and saw Orly stepping off the ladder, silhouetted against the light from the window, big and handsome and muscular and impossibly attractive. He stepped forward, lifting his arms, and the yearning swept from him to engulf her, to sweep her into his arms and wash her up against his chest, his mouth to hers.
The older foster children were well used to blocking out the amorous feelings of the villagers at the midsummer festival, for as the evening darkened and the bonfire was lit, there was dancing and drinking, and many of the young people disappeared from the firelight two by two. The young psis were even used to blocking out the erotic impulses of their foster siblings, which, coming from telepaths, were far stronger than those of the villagers—so even at that festival, when the musky aura of coupling seemed to permeate the atmosphere, they had rarely been aware of one another's misbehavior.
They were stunned when they did feel the aftershocks of orgasm.
The teenagers looked at one another in surprise, then with desire and longing, for the erotic feelings they had sensed aroused their own yearnings.
Mama might not have been a telepath, but she had eyes, and knowledge enough to draw her own conclusions. "Orma—what is it?"
"Someone has just been having a very good time," Orma gasped, "someone telepathic and projective. If they aren't part of our family, they should be."
"I suspect they are," Mama said darkly. "You and Jason round up the children and take special care of the little ones. Papa and I will see what has been going on." Off she went into the merrymaking crowd, searching for her husband.
When she found him, she said, "We seem to have succeeded better than we knew, Papa."
"We, and they," Papa agreed. "I think we had better go back to the farm at once, Mama, before they decide to have too much of a good thing."
"Or decide that it is indeed a good thing," Mama agreed. "It would never do to have two of our brood desert the Cause to start a family of their own."
Papa winced. "What a waste of time and effort that would be! Well, we'll go quickly, but I don't think there's much to worry about. We've done this often enough before, after all."
They left, driving the wagon through a cloud of hormones, for even the nontelepaths, without knowing why, had begun to feel more amorous toward one another than was usual, even at that festival. It was a midsummer that would become a legend in the village.
They drove up as Orly and Finny were coming out of the barn, still starry-eyed and holding hands. They stopped in the moonlight to kiss.
Papa leaped down from the wagon and strode toward them, seeming to swell with anger. "And just what have you two been doing, I wonder?"
"And out in public, or as good as!" Mama scolded, clutching her skirts and hurrying to catch up. "Your brothers and sisters could feel your lust all the way into town! You might as well have told them all what you were doing before they left!"
Finny blanched and shrank from Mama's anger. Orly tried to stand his ground but turned pale.
"I've never heard of such a thing!" Mama scolded. "You're as bad as your birth parents! Really!"
"You could have controlled yourself, Orly," Papa snapped. "Now you've dragged Finny down with you! Couldn't you think of anything but your own pleasure?"
"But. . .but we only—"
"No excuses!" Papa thundered. "We've told you how disgusting your parents were! The monks have told you how vile such an act is, in church every Sunday! Don't try to tell me you didn't know it was wrong!"
"Selfish! Depraved! Disgusting!" Mama ranted, and the two of them went on and on, Papa starting in just as Mama had to pause for breath, then Mama again when he ran out of wind. On and on they went for half an hour without pause, denouncing their errant wards for horribly ungrateful children, born of lustful and morally depraved parents and destined by that birth to be promiscuous themselves. Both were gratified to see Orly drop Finny's hand and to see her bury her fingers in her skirt. Finally Finny's sobs became so deep that she nearly fell. Orly reached out to support her, but she flinched away from him. Mama stopped ranting and gathered Finny in to sob against her bosom. "All right, now, it's done, and there's no undoing it. But never again with another telepath, you hear?" She glared at her foster son. "Go away, Orly, and don't make her look at you again for a month!"
Orly finally bowed his head, shoulders slumping in defeat, and turned away. Papa clasped his shoulder and steered him off toward the creek to wash, and Mama comforted Finny, then took her inside and filled the brass tub with hot water for her.
Finny wept into the soapy water.
"Ashamed, and very right to be," Mama told her. Then, generously, "Well, what's done is done, and the spilt milk cannot be poured back into the jug. We'll promise not to tell your brothers and sisters about this, Finny, as long as you swear never to do it again with one of your own kind!"
"Oh, I swear, Mama," Finny said fervently, and meant it with every drop of blood in her heart.
On the banks of the creek, Papa handed Orly a towel to dry himself, saying magnanimously, "We'll go on just as we always have, then. There's no reason for anybody to know about this except your mother and myself—and Finny, of course. Come now, back into town, or your siblings will count noses and know who wasn't there."
So back to town they went, Finny and Orly riding in the back of the wagon as far from one another as possible with downcast gazes, feeling so depraved that they couldn't even look at one another.
It was the longest ride of Finny's life.
Orly and Finny saw each other after that, of course, but quickly looked away, sheepish and guilty. They didn't speak much to their siblings, either, feeling accusing stares everywhere they went. Finny didn't stop to think that she was behaving just as Orma had two years before, or Rhea the year before that, and of course she had been too young to notice when Dory had gone through this same ordeal.
Finally they began to come out of it; finally Finny realized, from the comments about them, that their siblings hadn't counted up and compared the roll call of each of the separate parties. The boys exchanged coarse jokes and jibes that made Orly realize they weren't sure which of their number had done what to whom, and Finny began to understand that the other girls weren't even sure the psionic lovers had been of their family. She made up excuses for her bad mood and started laughing off their expressions of concern. Every now and again she would look up to find Orly gazing at her with yearning, but she quickly looked away, blushing with shame.