Badland Bride by Lauri Robinson Page A

the silence a few minutes later.
    "A what?"
    "Some people call it generation y."
    He glanced her way, waiting to hear more.
    "You see, each generation is very different, they have different thoughts, wants, needs. I don't really know what generation you are, they never taught us about those born before nineteen hundred. You might be rolled into the lost generation. That was the one before the great generation. Then came the baby boomers, then generation x, then the millennials, that's me, and now there's the generation z or vistas."
    "Who taught you all this?"
    "A professor at the college I attend. He also owns the apartment building where I rent.” She shrugged. “The reason I'm telling you all this is because I may not like Kid's big house. I don't want you to be offended but know where I'm coming from.” She twisted, pointed a finger at her chest. “You see, Professor Rutledge says my generation are multi-taskers and don't plan on staying anywhere for a long time, so therefore, we don't really care for the big houses the generations before us did. We like small, compact places that are easy to take care of so we can get on with life."
    Skeeter didn't comment. She'd talked about this professor yesterday too, and he once again noticed how her eyes became glassy when she did so, and he didn't like it. It was as if everything the man had said was the gospel—Skeeter already concluded this professor must be some sort of Bible pusher, all hell and brimstone, and someone he'd like to knock into next week—but right now he wasn't focused on that. His mind had become stuck on one line. The one where she said she didn't plan on staying anywhere for a long time. Like a wallop it reminded him their time together would be short lived. She needed to go back to her time, and he would have to let her—just like his bird.
    Funny, he'd always been carefree. Ma called him happy-go-lucky. That was because most things hadn't meant a lot, there was always tomorrow. But in Lila he'd found something he wanted to last forever, and he didn't like the thought of her leaving. It squeezed his guts into tight knots. She was so delightful, so loveable. With a shake of his head, he tried to clear his mind, and sent an encouraging glance her way, silently asking her to go on. He didn't want to dampen their time together with worrisome thoughts.
    "My generation is also quite blunt, and we question authority. I mean, think about it, who is the government ? And why should we trust them? All they are is a bunch of old geezers from the great generation who don't know when to retire.” She wrapped her hands around his arm, hugging it. “Anyway, I'll try to bite my tongue, but please don't be offended if I don't like Kid's big house."
    There was this way about her that made him happy. So happy. He laughed, pulled his arm from her grasp and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I won't be offended.” Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he said, “Tell me more."
    She scooted closer and wrapped her arm around his back. “I don't know what it is about you that turns me into a Chatty Cathy doll.” She frowned, looked at him seriously. “I thought men didn't like women who talk all the time."
    Despite the fact he had no idea what a Chatty Cathy doll was, he laughed. “I don't know about other men, but I like hearing you talk. I like listening to what you have to say.” He'd always enjoyed learning about new places and things, had read most every book he could get his hands on, but her tales were better than any story. Listening to her voice was music to his ears.
    "Hmm...maybe it's because you don't have a radio, CD, or MP3 player.” Lila laid her head on his shoulder. “Did I tell you my generation is really techno-savvy?” His hard, solid body felt so good, and last night had left her floating on cloud nine. Nothing could dampen her happiness.
    "Tell me more,” he encouraged.
    She giggled and took great delight in telling him about every