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Family Trees and Yellow Hair
The Riker family tree was not something Kestra had really thought about, but that day at school they’d been talking about their families and it had got her thinking. She knew plenty about her mother’s side of the family – Granny had seen to that, ensuring that her grandchildren both had a thorough understanding of the Fifth House family tree and where exactly their heritage stemmed from. Thad had always been Lwaxana’s favourite (despite the fact that their mother denied this) and Kestra knew that this was because, in virtually all ways apart from his long limbs, he had resembled their mother. When they went to Betazed, Thad could easily pass for a native with his dark eyes and dark hair. Kestra, on the other hand, was blonde and blue-eyed and looked utterly human and nobody, absolutely nobody, believed that she was Deanna Troi’s daughter.
But when she compared herself to her father, she wasn’t even sure there was much of Will Riker in her either. She was taller than lots of other girls her age, and despite her eyes being exactly like her Dad’s, that was, in Kestra’s opinion, where the similarity ended. So as she graviboarded home from Infinity Lake that afternoon, she resolved to corner her parents and get them to explain just how the hell she’d come out of the womb looking like she did.
When she got back, her mother was in the garden, as usual, on her hands and knees in the vegetable patch, weeding. She yelled a hi, got one in return, then made a bee-line for her father’s study. “Dad! Are you upstairs?”
“Sure am, Wild Girl!” he shouted. “Just doing some work.”
As part of his active reserve status, Will Riker had to keep up with various qualifications and courses, in order to keep his skills and knowledge sharp. It took a fair bit of his time each week, but not so much that it interfered with their family life overall. Kestra galloped up the stairs and flew into the study. Her father was working at his computer terminal, a mug of coffee beside him. His hair was mussed as if he’d not bothered trying to tame it that morning and the expression on his face as he turned to look at her told her he was glad to see her, if for no other reason than because of the distraction she provided. “Hey,” she said and leapt up on to the desk he was sitting at.
“Hey. Good day?”
“Hm, yeah, kind of.” She looked around her father’s study. It was a small room, big enough for his desk, a couple of bookshelves, mostly full of personal trinkets and framed holophotos rather than books, and an easy chair made of tan leather. All of the holophotos were of her and Thad and Deanna, some single portraits, others more candid snaps taken when they were unaware. She glanced at the only photo that featured all of them and was reminded again about her questions. “Dad, why don’t you talk about your family? Mom talks about her family all the time… well, Granny does more than Mom, but you know what I mean.”
Will sighed and frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, your Mom’s family is much more interesting than mine, kiddo.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, your Mom’s got her Betazoid heritage. Fifth House and all that. I’m just a ordinary guy.”
“Dad, you are not ordinary.”
“Thank you, Kestra, but I think you are probably speaking from a position of bias.”
They smiled at each other. “But, no, seriously… What about your family? I don’t even know anything about your mom! I mean, you’ve said a bit about your Dad, and how you didn’t get on… which I always thought was sad.”
Will pursed his lips. “We made up some of our differences a few years before he died. But I would never say that we were close.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Too much history.”
“Oh,” said Kestra. “What about your Mom then? You were little when she died, right?”
“Yes I was. I don’t remember her, really. I have vague recollections of her, but my father told a lot of stories about her and it’s kind of hard to separate what I really remember myself with what I remember because of those stories, if that makes sense.” Kestra nodded. “But, we should maybe get some pictures out. After all, you do look like her.”
“I do?”
This information surprised Kestra. She’d never seen a picture of her father’s mother; she’d only seen a few of his father, for that matter. It seemed her Dad just wasn’t that keen on remembering his childhood. Her mom had some psychological term for it, but she couldn’t recall it.
“She had blonde hair and blue eyes. And her hair was wavy like yours. Here, let me show you…” He rooted in his desk drawer for a moment, then brought out a PADD. He tapped a few buttons on it, then flicked through a series of holoimages of his childhood, going back and back until he was just a toddler and then a baby. A woman began to appear in many of the pictures and Kestra almost stopped breathing at what she saw. It was like looking at an image of herself, but older. “Elizabeth Anne Riker,” said her father as he pointed at the woman. “People knew her as Betty, mostly. She was a Gregory before she married my father, a daughter of a Starfleet captain, believe it or not. Captain William Jacob Gregory – he commanded the USS Knox. It’s who I’m named after.”
“Really? Wow…”
Kestra took the PADD from her Dad and began swiping through the pictures herself. Betty Riker was beautiful, willowy and had an infectious smile. She looked like the type of person who spent her days being happy and passing that happiness onto others. “My Dad worshipped her. They met in high school and he asked her to marry him when they were just eighteen. They travelled all around the galaxy together for nearly ten years before I was born, then they settled back in Alaska.”
In most of the pictures, Betty’s warm blonde hair was tied half back off her face in a French braid, but in a few, it hung down by her shoulders in soft, messy waves. Her blue eyes seemed to fix on Kestra from each of the images. She reached out and touched one of the pictures, thoughtful.
“What was she like?”
“Like I said, I only really know from other people’s stories. She died suddenly and unexpectedly – an aneurysm while out hiking in the wilderness. If she’d been at home, the doctors would’ve almost certainly been able to save her, but when it happened, she was nowhere near any kind of hospital and alone. My Dad only realised something had happened when she didn’t come home that evening to put me to bed. She loved the outdoors, and Alaska in particular. When I was born, she made my dad swear that they’d raise me in Alaska.” He drew in a slow, sad breath. “By all accounts, she was intelligent, charming and a friend to many. She enjoyed cooking and loved dogs and was always reading.” He paused. “It’s sad that you never got to know her… that I never got to know her.”
“Yeah…”
“Hello, you two,” came a voice from the doorway and Kestra looked up to see her mother standing there, all cleaned up from gardening.
“Mom, look, Dad’s showing me about his mom.”
“Betty,” said Deanna and stepped over to look at the PADD with them. “She died when your Daddy was very small.”
“I always wondered where I got my hair from. But now I know. And I look a bit like her too,” Kestra said.
Deanna smiled. “You look a lot like her, Kestra.” She leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “You’re definitely a Gregory at the heart of it. But, you know, you should have a look at your grandfather’s family too someday. I know Granny has told you a lot about the Betazed part, but my Daddy had some interesting family too. Did you know he came to America when he was six? His parents emigrated from London. And if you’re wondering about your blonde hair, yes it probably came from your Daddy’s mother, but my Daddy’s mother also had blonde hair.”
“She did?”
“Yes. She was Swedish! Ida… I’ll have a look in the attic and see if I can find any pictures of her for you one day. She had wonderful blonde hair down to her waist. So, you see, you can maybe blame some of that Swedish blood for your blonde hair, darling…”
Kestra grinned as he mother rubbed her hair. “Now, come on, shall we get some dinner sorted? What would everyone like?”
“Meatballs!” shouted Kestra.
“Meatballs?” Her father gave one of his big laughs. “Maybe you were right about that Swedish gene, Imzadi!”