chapter twelve: this is home

Miranda dipped her hands into the soapy water, slowly scrubbing away at the grit and food that stuck to the dishes. It was a soothing activity, washing dishes. The warm water seeped into her hands, making them warm to the touch (she always seemed to have cold hands). It reminded her of afternoons and evenings spent with her mother, always washing up after they’d finished baking or cooking in the kitchen. It was within the kitchen that Miranda always found her comfort, a smile easier to come when she surrounded herself with baking equipment and pots and pans. The language of recipes was an easy one to her and she was happy to share it with her family.

It wasn’t easy, she thought, uprooting themselves to a whole new place. There was still some bad energy in the air, bad blood between members of certain clans that made it hard to know whether your neighbor was friend or foe. Evan had tried hard to make sure everyone was included within the community, but his word could only do so much to sway those who held fast to their beliefs.

Drying her hands, placing the last pan into the drainer, Miranda left the kitchen, stepping easily into the living room. Slowly but surely, this place was becoming more and more like home. It just needed a little extra work and love to make this the place that Miranda had once dreamed her home might look like when she was a girl.

The sound of a car outside made her head turn, a light smile appearing when she saw Vincent getting out of the car.

He bent, picking up the paper, reading over the headlines from the afternoon news as Miranda left her post by the window, flinging the door open and hurrying down the steps. His head turned up from the paper and he gave her a grin brighter than any light she had ever seen.

“You’re home!” Her happiness was genuine as she drew nearer, arms thrown around him in a tight, loving embrace.

“Missed me much?” Vincent gave a low laugh as he held her near.

“Always,” Miranda replied without hesitation. Vincent was a quiet man, but it was in his silence that Miranda found her strength. They held each other together and that was all she could have asked for. So many others she knew had met disastrous ends with their matches; Miranda felt lucky to have Vincent with her.

Especially when he smiled at her like she was the most beautiful thing he ever beheld. And, really, when she thought about it, she’d already made her home here; not exactly as planned but she knew in her heart it would be just fine.

chapter eleven: exchanging pleasantries

The three women sat upon the upholstery couch within the Rosier mansion, a strange, almost uncomfortable silence falling over them as the conversation died down. Yet it didn’t bother Aimee much, since she had been the one who wanted to bring together the wives of both Jeremiah and Robin to her home for the past few days. Things had been hectic though but, finally, she’d managed to get all three of them together to simply relax and talk.

There were a few things that Aimee had detected as she spoke with the women. Emilia was silent for the vast majority of it, sitting in a slightly uneasy silence, chiming in now and again. It was Marian who seemed to dominate the conversation though, talking animatedly about this and that, taking a breath only to pause before moving on.

“So that’s when we decided living below college kids wasn’t the smartest idea.” Marian was laughing as the anecdote ended, giving Aimee a cheeky smile.

“I’ll be back,” Emilia muttered as she rose, leaving Aimee and Marian to their own devices. Marian spoke again only when Emilia had left the room.

“Not very friendly, that one, is she?” She frowned slightly as she stared into the space where Emilia had run off to. “I think she’s said maybe three words since she came by.”

“Maybe it just takes some time for her to warm up to people,” Aimee said with a light shrug. Truthfully, she hadn’t gotten a friendly vibe from Emilia either, but she wanted to give her a chance before writing off the other woman completely. Her thoughts were drawn back to the present as Marian pressed a hand to her mouth, giving a little groan, face screwed up slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Mostly,” Marian gave a little smile when she feeling had passed, taking in a breath before letting it go. “Ralph Shepard said it would pass soon enough but I just want to stop feeling so sick…” Aimee didn’t respond and Marian pressed on. “What?”

“Well…” Aimee took a moment to find her words but Marian found them for her only moments later.

“You too?” A broad grin spread across her features as she clapped her hands together. “When? How long have you known? Does Evan know?” There so many questions bubbling from her lips but Aimee stopped them with a hand and a laugh.

“I’m not one hundred percent certain, not yet. It’s still a little too early to know for sure but it’s just a feeling I have.” Aimee was smiling though– she was more certain than she let on, mostly since she wanted to be sure before she said anything to Evan or anyone else in the community.

The phone rang and Aimee rose to her feet, moving to exit to pick it up as Emilia slid right back into her place upon the couch. There was a moment of awkward silence between them as Emilia shifted a little, not sure what she wanted to say, tongue-tied in a rare moment.

Marian turned to Emilia, giving her a look over before she said, “So, when do you plan on having a family?” Emilia didn’t respond. Aimee returned moments later, catching a glance of the two upon the couch, mentally sighing. Somehow, they’d work things through; for now, she had to make due with the fact that not everyone here was as eager to befriend all who had come with them.

chapter ten: like-minded women

It was an unexpected surprise to see Fiona Jenkins upon her doorstep. Mary had merely been working on getting the house cleaned up after Ralph had gone off to work when she heard the bell ring. A warm smile crossed her features as she opened her door wider, allowing the other woman to come indoors. “Oh, hello. I wasn’t expecting any company.” Yet her demeanor showed she didn’t mind as she held out a hand for Fiona to take. She did take it, though a little surprised at first, her grip growing a little stronger near the end of the handshake. “Now, what do I owe the pleasure of you stopping by?” Mary asked politely.

“Nothing in particular,” Fiona gave Mary a smile of her own as she glanced around the home. “Lucas was off at work and, since I’d finished work around the house, I figured I’d stop by here. I hope that’s all right,” She added, slightly nervous that Mary would find some reason to kick her out and send her off wandering again.

“That’s perfectly fine,” Mary replied easily. Fiona let out a small sigh of relief.

“This place seems nice enough, now that we’ve all begun to settle in it, don’t you think?” Fiona asked after a few awkward moments of silence.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mary replied, chuckling softly. “I haven’t had a chance to look around completely but I’ve no doubt in my mind that there’s space enough for all of us and, hopefully, our families.” She ducked her head slightly, for it seemed it was no secret that she was looking forward to having a family.

“It could use a church of some kind though,” Fiona admitted after a moment, glancing hesitantly to Mary. It was clear neither women knew where the other stood on topics such as these, treading carefully in case Fiona somehow disrespected Mary’s viewpoint. However, she was pleased to see a smile work it’s way swiftly across the other woman’s face, clapping her hands together gleefully.

“You’re right! Wouldn’t that be lovely to have?”

Fiona smiled again. “I know Vincent Stone is a builder– perhaps, once we’re all settled in, someone could bring it up?”

“How convenient,” Mary laughed lightly. “I’m sure, once we’re settled, it could be a fine project for the community. I’d love nothing more than a quiet place of worship.”

“Very few people seem to believe these days,” Fiona commented lightly. Mary nodded her head slowly.

“Yes, but I believe He has a plan to show us that we have a right to believe again, somehow…”

“What do you mean?”

“If I could see inside His head now,” Mary started with a chuckle, “perhaps I would know what we were doing here. But we all have a purpose and we all have a reason to be here. I hope it’s for the greater good though.”

“So do I…” Fiona trailed off, uncertain for a moment, opening her mouth to speak but shutting it again. Thankfully, Mary didn’t catch onto that awkward moment as she started talking of other things, cheerfully chattering away as the two like-minded women lay down their plans for this place, starting with the most important piece of all: the Church.

chapter nine: creative license

The move had been a huge change in the life of Emilia Saint-Clair. Well, now she supposed she was a Gantz but that was something she didn’t want to think about often, for it made her sick to her stomach. The notion that she would marry someone had never once crossed her mind in the past couple of years, nor did it change when Jeremiah Gantz came into her life. He’d been there before, a close friend of her cousin Melinda, but for some reason he always seemed to keep an eye upon her. Perhaps he thought her anger amusing at first and that’s why he asked. Maybe even he’d been kind to offer her shelter when she knew she didn’t have long before she had to choose someone to wed.

Regardless of what he had done, both regretted it now almost two years after the fact.

If she had been asked back then if she were happy, Emilia might have answered “Happy enough, I guess.” though now she knew her answer would be a resounding no. She hated the man who slept downstairs and whose very presence seemed to send her off the charts when it came to her own anger. He was constantly doing something to annoy her and nothing about him was endearing to her. Well, all except one thing: he gave her space.

After the car had left in the morning, Emilia was free to roam about the house. She made coffee (since his pot had already grown cold when she ventured downstairs), read the morning paper, and, finally, when she got that spark, she left it all to go straight back up the stairs, into what she’d started as a small studio. It wasn’t big by any means, with two spaces to paint upon canvas and a pottery wheel, but it was enough to make her happy.

It was up here that she found the most joy, placing brush to canvas, painting what she felt, what she saw, what she remembered, and what she thought of. If nothing else, it offered a wonderful creative outlet for her to get rid of anything she felt before Jeremiah came home. All he asked was one meal with her and that she usually had to mentally prepare herself for. She knew there would be heated discussion, though none of it was friendly or nice. Thankfully, she could take back whatever she dished out, her skin thick enough to endure any sort of comments that came her way since she was more than likely to throw them right back into his face anyways.

A sigh escaped her lips. She missed home, the place that felt nicer than this. But there was no going back to it, was there? This was her home now, like it or not, and it was something she had to get used to eventually.

So she’d endure. And that was all anyone could ask of her.

eight: unexpected surprises

Rob didn’t know what had woken him at first. He grumbled, mumbling in his sleep, one hand feeling to his side where Marian was supposed to be. Then his eyes flew open, disoriented to see her side of the bed was empty. Blinking through sleep filled eyes, he caught sight of a light under the bathroom door. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary, but something felt a little off to the man as he sat up, slowly easing himself out from under the sheets.

“Marian?” Rob called as the door opened and his wife came into view. He was already halfway from the bed when Marian spoke in a hushed whisper.

“Go back to bed, Rob, it’s fine,” But it didn’t look fine to Rob. There was sweat upon her brow and, even in the dark, he could see a sag in her shoulders, her lips worked into a light frown.

“You’re not fine,” Rob didn’t hesitate as he reached out, a hand stroking her cheek, brushing away a damp strand of red hair. “What’s wrong? You not feeling well?”

Marian was shaking her head– “No, it’s fine Rob, really, just go back to bed okay?”

“You’re not acting like everything is all right,” Rob commented in a stern voice. Marian gave him a withering look, hands pressing against his chest as she pushed herself away from his comforting arms. No, she meant business when she made space, arms folded over her chest.

“If you really want to know,” Marian began slowly with a small sigh, defeated in that moment, “It seems I’m pregnant.” She waited, letting the words sink in before she added, “I need to get it confirmed by Ralph but I’m pretty sure it’s positive. I’m already late and morning sickness has been kicking in and–” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as Rob crossed the minor distance between them, pulling her into a crushing hug.

“Marian! That’s wonderful news!” He was beaming but quickly pulled back a bit, his hold easing up on his wife, “I’m not hurting you, am I?” Marian only laughed before she pulled him closer again.

“I’m not a fragile flower, Rob! Not yet at least,” She smiled into his shoulder, sighing softly. It was a happy moment and any nerves she may have felt earlier vanished into thin air. There was another pressing matter at hand though, something neither wanted to speak of, not if it ruined this moment. So, for the first time in weeks, Marian didn’t harp Rob about his job and Rob quietly resolved that he needed a better job someday soon.

chapter seven: responsibilities

Aimee took in a deep breath, letting out a contented sigh. The morning was always her favorite time of the day, rising before anyone else was up so she could get whatever she wanted done. She was the one in the household to get the coffee started, to make some breakfast when she had time, grabbing the paper to read it before anyone else had dibs on it, and simply enjoy the silence for a little longer before the world woke up and spoiled it all over again. Now that she lived with Evan, though, she found it took a little longer before that quiet was inevitably disturbed and, in all honesty, she didn’t mind it.

Her family had been a big one, filled with lots of loud siblings, two over-active parents and a couple cousins, aunts, and uncles thrown into the mix now and then when they came into town. Being one of the eldest meant Aimee was stuck caring for the littlest members of the family more often than not, since an extra pair of hands were always helpful when it came to her mother’s inability to stop having children. Aimee had siblings still in diapers, something she didn’t always completely understand, since there had to be a point when Mrs. Savage had to stop with the babies, right?

But, as hard as it had been to help take care of the children (more work than anyone ever pegged), Aimee still knew that’s what she wanted. Perhaps nothing that big, but she wanted a family to call her own. That time, obviously, wouldn’t be soon, since there was a lot of transitioning that needed to happen and Evan simply didn’t feel prepared.

She heard him on the stairs as she finished up an omelette to split between them, dividing the halves onto separate plates as she came into the dining room. There was no need for formality in their home, both still dressed for bed as she gave him a light peck on the cheek, setting down one plate, keeping the second for herself as she sat at the large table.

“I didn’t hear you wake up,” Evan commented lightly, giving his wife a smile. Aimee chuckled.

“You never seem to anyways,” She replied easily, giving him a teasing smirk. “I swear, you could sleep through the apocalypse if given the chance!”

“I don’t sleep that heavily!” Evan protested. She merely gave him a cheeky grin as she took a bite from her omelette.

The two lapsed into a deep silence, though Aimee had a feeling it wasn’t just the food that kept Evan from speaking. She snuck a sideways glance to her husband, a light frown sretching across her features. “You’re awfully quiet.” She took a bite from her omelette. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing…” Evan lied, though he was unsuccessful as he poked and prodded at his food. “I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

Evan wasn’t supposed to be a leader. That was his brother’s position in their clan and Evan was happy to let him take the lead. Grant was better at it anyways– he had the charisma, the skills needed to lead a group of them, and he had the correct upbringing, knowing that he’d take over the reigns when their father passed on. Evan had been raised to simply be his brother’s right hand, should anything go wrong. That plan had gone out the window when Evan refused to take back his proposal to Aimee though, resulting in the split and leaving Evan suddenly in charge.

In short, it wasn’t a position he was ready for.

“If these people hadn’t felt you were right, or had the right ideas,” Aimee began in a consoling tone, “then they wouldn’t have followed us here. They must have some faith in your ability to lead us and keep everyone safe if they came all this way, right?” And, after a moment, she added (with a little smile), “Besides, you’re not alone in leading them. You’ve got me and you know I’m here to help as best I can.”

True, the leader dealt in all things, be it disagreements within the clan to any and all things magical, but Aimee was determined to do her part, regardless of what it was. She wasn’t afraid to take on any extra work that she could manage. If it would help, she’d do it, within reason of course.

Evan gave a feeble smile.

“Must you always be right?”

“I’m not always right,” Aimee said as she stood, clearing their plates, “just in the mornings.” She gave a little wink as she left the dining room. Her own discussion about the possibility of children would have to wait– too much was going on right now. Perhaps it was for the best anyways. Aimee hummed softly to herself, washing the dishes as she heard her husband retreat upstairs again, leaving Aimee to her silence once more.

chapter six: love is enough

“How does it look?” Miranda Stone asked in a soft tone, seating herself at the wooden table she and her husband had brought with them from out west. Vincent Stone gave his wife a glowing smile as he twisted a forkful of noodles around upon his plate.

“It smells great, if that helps,” He offered and Miranda was pleased enough, sitting down to eat beside him. They were quiet for some time, the silence filled only by chewing and the clatter of silverware against their dishes. Finally, clearing his throat, leaning forwards in his chair a bit, Vincent broke the silence. “You think we can be happy here?”

Miranda gave him a smile. “Yes,” She answered in a tone that sounded with complete assurance. “I’m sure of it.” She was his rock, his sense of security when things were falling apart around them. What had Vincent done to deserve such a wonderful woman? Her answer brought a little smile to his features, letting out a little sigh of relief. Two years she had stood firmly at his side before he managed to get the courage to ask her for her hand. Her response had been, “Well, took you long enough!” which was good enough for the both of them. They meant to make a life and, while there had been a few curve balls thrown their direction, Vincent knew he could weather the storms that lay ahead of him.

“Nah, we’ll be just fine here,” Miranda reaffirmed and, slipping her hand over his on the table, Vincent gave a smile in return. “I think we can trust the Rosier’s to make the right choices and I’m sure your voice will be heard here more than it would’ve back home.”

“I have to hope so,” Vincent muttered. There wasn’t much power in his line– a few special tricks here and there but nothing compared to the wealth of power and might that he knew the three strongest families held. His lack of ability had always held him back but, with the gentle hand of Miranda upon his shoulder, urging him onwards, he had slowly begun to stand up a little taller in this world.

With just a bit more helpful pushing, he’d stand taller than ever and it was all because of Miranda. And, for that, he would always be grateful.

chapter five: faith

Ralph Shepard may have been a doctor, but he wasn’t what you’d call a man of faith. He believed in the existence of science and it was through this that almost anything could be solved. That didn’t account for the fact that he could heal anyone by touching his hands to them though, but he was willing to put aside his beliefs (and ties) to science when it came to the good of the community.

Yet it seemed that he had managed to marry a woman who placed all her faith in God.

Ralph recalled the first time he met Mary Wright. The day had been sunny as he walked through to the park after work. The hospital was always a taxing place to be and, in order to keep his sanity, he often took long walks after he’d finished with work. The spring weather was warm and, discarding his light jacket that he’d worn to work, he walked home slowly, sedately, enjoying his trek along the quiet suburban streets.

He hadn’t thought to stop in the park, though he paused along his way, eyes catching sight of someone else already sitting there. A woman, younger than he was, quietly seatd upon the old brown bench, her eyes closed. Her body was slouched slightly, a sigh escaping her lips before she opened them.

And realized she was being watched.

“Yes?” Her voice was soft, almost musical and Ralph was struck speechless. “No need to be shy,” The woman replied in a warm-hearted tone as she made space on the bench. “If you’d like to sit, you’re more than welcome.”

To refuse would have been impolite and, thus, Ralph moved, stepping across grass until he seated himself next to the red-headed woman.

“I’m Mary Wright, by the by,” She added after he had made himself comfortable upon the bench. “And who’re you?” She seemed genuine, curious, and there was an odd kindness in her eyes that Ralph feared he didn’t see often enough in the world.

“Ralph Shepard,” He replied easily, finding a little smile crossing his lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Their first meeting had sparked many others and it wasn’t long before Ralph could proclaim he was in love with this kind-hearted woman. She said yes to him when he asked her to marry him and, in a gesture to start fresh, he followed the younger leader of this newly found clan into the northern woods. Mary had been good about it, just as eager as he, though they both had some of their own worries. There was love, yes, but disagreement came in many forms within their conversations. On such disagreement was the belief that there was, indeed, a God out there.

Yet, through it all, Mary stayed at his side and Ralph had to hope he’d remain lucky enough to keep her there.

chapter four: forbidden

For the first time in weeks, Fiona Jenkins for a quiet moment to herself. Lucas was preoccupied with other things, leaving his wife to her own devices. A slow smile spread across her features as she tip-toed up the stairs, slipping into his study just opposite to the bedroom. She knew full well she wasn’t allowed in here but that was half the fun of it. Her blue eyes scanned around the room until her eyes found the bookcase that wasn’t to be touched.

So much knowledge in these books! Yet it was forbidden for her to know what lay between these pages. Her fingers twitched slightly as she paused before the spines of the books. It hadn’t stopped her before. Just one peek, that’s what she always told herself.

Her knees bent and Fiona stared intently at the titles. Her fingers reached out but she’d barely brushed the title of the book she wanted when a voice behind her cause her to spring back to standing again. “Fi, what are you doing?”

Lucas was cross with her; she could see it in his expression.

“Nothing!” Fiona insisted, immediately taking three steps away from the bookcase in question. “Just making sure everything was in order.” The lie was flimsy and she blushed from the shame of it.

“Please, I don’t have time for your lying today, Fiona,” The fact that he used her full name meant she was in trouble. “I’ve told you, those books can’t be touched.”

“I know, I just-”

“Do you remember why we had to come here?” Of course she remembered. She bit her lower lip, shoulders slumping at the memory. “We can’t have a repeat of last time.”

“But Lucas-”

“Not now Fiona.” His own expression softened as he touched her cheek. “Why don’t you go downstairs and unpack a few more boxes, hm?” He knew it wasn’t what she wanted to do but, like an obidiant child, the woman would listen to him. Her feet shuffled out of the room and he sighed aloud.

No, he wouldn’t let a repeat of last time happen. His fists clenched and then opened again before he sat down at his desk.

As Fiona trudged down the steps, one of the shadows in the corner shifted before falling still again, unnoticed and lurking in the silence.

chapter three: avoiding arguments

It was a poetically nice day outside, thought Jeremiah Gantz as he stared out his front window in passing. Course, he’d never thought he’d have a house as nice as this, not when the clan he was born in already had too many in power, squashing any potential he may have had in rising up in the ranks. The chance Evan Rosier had offered him was more than he could pass by and the offer had already shown benefits. He was really starting to like it here.

Of course, even happiness had it’s downfalls. Outside, he caught a glance at his wife by the mailbox, carefully slipping a letter into it.

When she caught him looking, a glare streaked across her face– it was challenging and aggressive but Jeremiah didn’t indulge her. His shrew of a wife would have her time to argue with him later; for now, he’d much rather enjoy his peace and quiet.

There always seemed to be some form of arguing or yelling going on in their home. Emilia had always been a firecracker, which had initially attracted him to her. She wasn’t a soft woman and that was pretty clear in how she had always behaved back home with her brash, hot-headed temper and thorns that pierces anything that came close to reaching anything real with her. And Jeremiah had wanted her to be his.

To say Emilia was unhappy would have been an understatement. She had, at first, flat out refused his proposal, nearly flattening his ass when he tried to come back and persuade her. But when her father died and her brother, having inherited the house, refused to continue to support his sister (who had already sworn never to marry anyone). It drove Emilia to resort to something she regretted and constantly reminded him of each day: marry Jeremiah Gantz.

“What do you mean you can’t take this postage? It’s still usable!” The pitch in her voice was high, grating against his ears as she let out her anger upon the poor mailman. Jeremiah felt his pain.

She could carry on and make as much fuss as she wanted. Jeremiah would take care of her. There wasn’t the same attraction as he’d held before, replaced with a mutual animosity that lingered through the days and weeks they had been there.

Well, they would both have to get used to it. Sleeping in separate rooms helped, Jeremiah thought as he left the living room, retreating to his study. Later he heard her footsteps on the stairs. She didn’t linger on the second floor, retreating up to her rooms and the work room she kept for her paintings. Jeremiah didn’t move from his chair, pausing only in his reading to wait until he heard classical music playing upstairs before he continued reading.