By the Grace of Sim Gods

Patrick: Reckless Abandon

Patrick cradled Luliana, the phone tucked between ear and shoulder, the voicemail kicking in. He stroked Daciana, unable to comfort both his nieces. They were hungry, nappies in urgent need of changing, and Charlotte? – he no idea. His sister had not answered her phone; there were clothes missing and two infants alone. Patrick realised he did not know her friends aside from Caleb, she had not brought anyone to the house. The last group he saw her with was the social butterflies. The phone fell, cracking the screen. The universe suggested he gave up listening to the standard answer message. Wherever she was, Charlotte was ignoring his calls. Patrick would need to play the parental role.

Patrick moved the cribs into the main house; after leaving seven messages, a few dozen texts, he gave up on her. There had been no warning; Charlotte never suggested she needed space. He would have helped, cared for the babies for a few hours, given her space for study, job hunting, or seeing friends. To walk away from her children, leave them alone. What if he had decided to stay out? If he met up with a beautiful woman and stayed over at her place. Why would Charlotte be so selfish and leave them. Caleb sounded groggy as he called back that evening. Patrick kept his cool, not wanting to arouse suspicion. The lover admitted he had not seen her since the babies were born. Patrick held his tongue despite wanting to lay into him about responsibility. The priority was to find Charlotte which Caleb agreed to help.

Patrick apologised for his recent behaviour as he begged Juliana for her advice. Aside from Vicky, who he did not want to worry, Juliana, as a mother, understood children. The eldest twin fussed, Patrick fed, changed, and comforted, but it wasn’t enough. Daciana seemed aware of her mother’s absence. She needed something Patrick was not equipped to offer. As Juliana cradled the bundle; Daciana screamed. She reassured him it was too early for her to be teething, and sometimes a baby needs to cry. Patrick’s ears needed a break. Whether Daciana wanted to expand her lungs or not, his head might explode.

Juliana came back to visit over the next few months, sharing her wisdom with the unwitting father. Charlotte remained absent, and Caleb reported nothing. He had not called or checked on the twins. Patrick despaired, taking comfort in Juliana. His actions were honourable, keen to ensure his nieces were happy. When Juliana referred to him as “daddy”, Patrick realised his life had changed. From the day Charlotte left, Patrick considered no other option. He stepped in and be a surrogate parent to the girls. He loved them from the moment they were born. The anticipation, to see them grow and be a part of their lives. Daciana remained restless, although her tears eased. He decided to stop mentioning Charlotte and accept his position as a father.

Juliana embraced him; this gentle, loving man put the girls before himself. His prior self-serving energies that once repulsed her were dissipating. A warmed inviting smile crept across her face as she asked him when he was going to kiss her. Patrick leaned in, stealing a quick first. In a rush of excitement, Juliana grabbed his top. He walked her backwards until her back pressed against the closet door. Her hand fumbled behind as Patrick kissed her. The door slid open, and unto the pile of coats, they fell.

Charlotte: Losing Herself

Patrick worried; Charlotte distanced herself from the girls more each day. It was getting to the point he considered moving them into the main house as a permanent solution to their care. Patrick blended plant care with childcare. Settling them in the shade whilst tending the garden, chatting to them as he worked. Teaching the sleepy girls about the types of vegetables he was growing. Despite their newborn status they needed to know what would make them strong and tasted the best.

Charlotte celebrated her birthday with quiet reflection. She blew out the candle without making a wish. Her heart failed to know what she required to feel whole again. There was hope Caleb would stand before her, tell her he would stay, then everything would fall into place. A confession of love would transform her into the mother the twins deserved. Motherhood, she believed, should be as natural as breathing. Something that blossomed with each memory captured. Instead, it felt alien. Vicky tried to reassure her that everyone finds a way and the girls will love her no matter what.

Those feelings of inadequacy remained within her. Charlotte shook: tears bubbled beneath the surface. A constant wave of fatigue threatened to consume her. Looking into the puffy red faces of her children, she begged them to stop screaming; her body weakened, a lack of food and sleep. Charlotte considered taking the cribs and leaving them somewhere. Trying to live up to the expectations of her family and the babies, it terrified her. Playing the role of mother, it felt forced upon her. She resented it, sinking deeper into the guilt of hating the responsibility. It was worse than that, she could not admit she did not love her daughters.

Patrick learned she walked out of her finals, leaving uncertainty over her graduation. He expected arguments as he questioned her decisions; the mounting irresponsibility concerned him. She would sit for hours crying. How could she explain the devastation of disconnection from her offspring? Patrick doled out his lectures on how she should be; all she wanted to do was disappear.

That was the answer, to disappear. If Charlotte could somehow vanish from this life, surrender her role. Her babies could be raised by a person who would give unconditional love. She imagined being happy, sorrow free, a weight lifted, giving her a life where she and Caleb were together. There could be several lifetimes to approach the theme of motherhood; she did not have to consider it now. If there was a way to remove her memories of Daciana and Luliana, live in their non-existence. Charlotte wanted that life.

Soft closure meant the twins were unaware of their mothers’ decision. They drifted off with full tummies as silence filled the surrounding rooms. Minutes became hours; nothing stirred. Patrick crept into the room expecting Charlotte to be sleeping. Instead, clothes lay scattered across the bed. The wardrobe door ajar. A weight of disappointment turned to shock as two babies cried.

Support for anyone struggling with low mood or depression after giving birth is available either via the Doctor or through charities. Included with this post is a link to MIND – https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/postnatal-depression-and-perinatal-mental-health/about-maternal-mental-health-problems/

Charlotte: Baby Blues

Patrick blamed himself. Emilie had made him responsible for Charlotte in the event of her death. He had suspicions and reservations about her dating an older man. Caleb had seemed pleasant and respectful, but he abandoned Charlotte as the pregnancy progressed. Patrick watched as his baby sister, a week shy of her eighteenth birthday, gave birth to twin girls. He could not stand by as Charlotte struggled to adjust to motherhood. Holding Daciana for the first time changed everything. Patrick fell in love. He gazed into her large eyes and knew he would do anything for her and Luliana. Imagining himself as a father figure, Patrick doted on the girls, learning what each cry meant. He was a natural; they nuzzled against him, grasped at his beard, whatever they needed. Charlotte managed to praise her brother for all he did; exclaiming how her daughters would boast they had the best uncle.

Patrick wondered if her continued low mood was due to Caleb choosing to remain absent. The father had a brief encounter with the twins. A pained look in his eyes as he pressed cold lips to the warm skins of his daughters, inhaling deep that new baby smell. The feeling in Charlotte ran deeper; motherhood was not coming naturally to her. She knew it would be difficult raising them alone, or as it turns out, with Patrick. She imagined loving them, an instant bond, being what they needed. She stroked the soft fabric surrounding their cribs feeling disconnected from them. When they were inside her, she had these mixed thoughts, excited, filled with hope and love. Then darkness; the pain crept, and Charlotte was ready to evict her offspring from her body. She wanted to punish herself for having such thoughts. This resentment and rejection of her children did not leave when they were born. At the hospital, Charlotte was tense as each offered child cried for her; the unexpressed relief when Vicky stepped in to comfort them.

Charlotte holding Luliana and Daciana in the crib

Charlotte sank into the black recesses of her mind; it flooded with thoughts. Words twisted, caught in her throat, suffocating her. Emilie made it look easy, raising the three of them. Charlotte was failing already. A terrible mother. Doubts that she could be good enough for these innocent girls kept her awake. She tossed, bedclothes heaped in the centre, suppressing the urge to scream. Charlotte clutched her chest, her breathing rapid as she tumbled from the bed. Sweat dripped down her back as she paced the halls, trying to calm herself. The control failed, dizziness overwhelmed her, and Charlotte collapsed on the floor. The sadness weighed her down in a cascade of tears.

Charlotte: Babies Vatore-Grace

Charlotte settled in Milly’s room, the single bed emphasising the loneliness she felt. She refused to see Eliza and Patrick, fearing judgement. Vicky offered reassurances, leaving a small suitcase in the room. Charlotte’s refusal to speak meant they left without answers. Her mind raced; they would fail to understand the truth, the weight of secrecy her relationship with Caleb brought. Patrick had recoiled at the cold touch of Caleb’s handshake, her mother referenced his sense of style, and Eliza suggested he should get out in the sun. In isolation, these were simple observations, meaningless; together, they revealed his occult status. Vampires were private; the temptation when living amongst the humans was like trying to be on hunger strike at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Caleb described how each human had a unique smell, their pheromones. He found hers enticing, the kind where he was unsure if she was food or his lover. Charlotte had felt jealous when he admitted this was how he chose his partners. As if the female of the species was not enough for her to contend with, Caleb enjoyed many male companions. If he was honest, gender identity played no part in his desire, letting his animal instincts lead him.

Vicky knitted her brow; the darker side of Charlotte’s lover concerned her. The description, what Charlotte chose to imply, led Vicky to believe this man wanted the fantasy life. His avoidance of Charlotte in the latter stages of her pregnancy, the vampire analogy, was merely an excuse to avoid responsibility. In schools, occult history was glossed over, with references to them confined to literature. Newspapers had tiny sections poking fun at people who claimed Vampires invaded their homes. Others suggested Spellcasters made them ill or stole from them, usually when their partner. There were sightings of Mermaids in Tartosa, Sulani, and Fisherman, claiming their song made the storms or lured others to their death. Whatever the reality, Charlotte embraced hers, at least for the moment.

The future seemed unbearable, at least in the uncertainty of what would become of her relationship with Caleb. Staying in Brindleton Bay would need to be temporary, her niece grumbled, wondering when she could have her bed back. Vicky kept quiet, but Charlotte overheard her complaining on the phone as Milly slept restless, kicking her. Beyond her vampire dreams, Charlotte had given nothing else much thought. Being told that having children so young would not get in the way of her future was little comfort. She could feel the strain; her stomach tightened through another contraction. Shaking her head, Charlotte believed she was about to lose everything. Nothing prepared an adult for the trials of parenthood, and she was still a child herself. How could she be a mother?

Charlotte pushed Vicky away; the doctor gave a sympathetic look, and the onlookers whispered, thinking it shameful someone so young was pregnant. Vicky sat reluctant, waiting for Caleb to arrive. She could hear Charlotte calling for him as they rushed her into the delivering room. Caleb paced outside the hospital, wrestling with his bloodlust. Over the centuries, he had learned to control it; hospitals were places he knew to avoid, everything centred on blood. Caleb licked his lips, his inner demon flickered behind his eyes, and he took off into the night.

Caleb had agreed to let her use his name, and since Grace was her grandmother’s name, they sounded beautiful together. Charlotte’s face tensed, shuffling back as the nurse handed the first twin. Vicky intervened, comforting the crying child, opening her arms to take the second. A whispered sob escaped Charlotte, almost unwilling to name her daughters. Charlotte continued to sob; with Caleb’s absence, she wondered what life she could offer Daciana and Luliana Vatore-Grace.

Charlotte: The Lonely Road

Keeping secrets came easy to Charlotte, Caleb, and her pregnancy. Despite her petite frame, she did not look pregnant, so her brother remained none the wiser. Patrick acknowledged her increased appetite, teasing her over the weight gain. He leaned back in the chair, patting his stomach, accepting he was soft in the middle. Unlike his sisters, Patrick did not conform to conventional exercise. He liked the graft, shovel in hand, lifting bags of compost and all were rewarded with good food. Charlotte cringed through another mouthful wondering if Caleb would find her attractive. This hunger started early in the second trimester. The first, plagued by nausea, meant she ate little. Charlotte lied, blaming Patrick’s terrible cooking. It would be something to miss when she became a vampire. Caleb tolerated some food in front of her family, although it caused him discomfort.

Caleb grew distant with each passing day. He feared Vlad and what her brother would do when he discovered the truth. The lack of empathy and support took its toll as her fate revealed what was to come. Caleb, already of pale complexion, turned whiter still at the baby scan. Two tiny bodies nestled, one pushed high in her abdomen, the other playing kickball with her spine. Charlotte turned her face from the image, his hand had loosened its grip on hers, and a pained look filled his eyes. Both wanted the selfish route to keep their offspring. Caleb thought aloud, hoping they could pretend they were raising vampires. and turn them at eighteen. The notion dismissed, Vlad was not so naïve, and they would be unable to hide for long.

She returned from school finding a beautiful, hand-crafted bassinet. Above was a bat mobile, a nod to their ancestry. Charlotte ran her hand across the cream silk. The cushioning beneath would be perfect for their little one. What confused her was why they were here. Her heart squeezed; this was Caleb’s goodbye, his effort to do right by her and the vampire laws were at odds. He needed to let her go. She sank backwards, the weight in her body unbearable. She loved the world growing inside her, but they meant nothing without Caleb. Her hand shook with the note. Thick paper, calligraphy, she was not lost, sitting alone in her room. He wrote of heartbreak, speaking as though she had died. Charlotte knew he loved her, wanted her, the mark on her neck seared hot whenever he was near. The paper crumpled in her tight fist, he may have surrendered to the out-dated rules, but she was a fighter.

In San Myshuno, Vicky often called upon her nieces and nephews. The city invited exploration of edible delights, buskers and flea markets. Charlotte tended to avoid these over the past few months; as her stomach began to protrude. Patrick had grown suspicious that food was only part of the reason. She maintained her silence, as did Caleb. Her lover’s increased absence from her life pained her, and she needed to talk with someone. Milly interrupted as Charlotte opened her mouth. From the playground, half a dozen teens cheered as another basketball missed the net. Vicky rested a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder; inviting her home with them that evening. Charlotte stroked her bump; Vicky sighed, understanding without the need for words. She pulled her into a gentle embrace; Charlotte shook as she tried to hold back her tears.

Eliza joined the group kicking up the competition. Vicky wanted to break up the group, while the cousins were together and old enough to travel alone, Milly was not. The youngest clenched her fists, they had been there an hour, and were eager to see a busker. Eliza sided with Milly, agreeing to let her stay in the city. Although the apartment was small, they had sleeping bags and Eliza hung sheets as a make-shift tent. There was a concerned look as Eliza watched Vicky lead Charlotte away from the group. As the eldest sister, Eliza hoped Charlotte would confide in her. Their conversations had centred on Caleb, her love and hopes for the future. In the last eight months, this had waned. Charlotte spoke in mono sentences or passed the phone to Patrick. Eliza suggested Vicky. Their Aunt had supported Eliza; even with Ziva gone, Vicky continued to check up on her.

Charlotte stayed quiet on the train staring at the changing scenery. It seemed odd for a shipping town to not share a direct link to the city; they were neighbours. The dividing hills were an inconvenience for trains. She imagined what it would be like to dig through. Would she feel free or triumphant reaching the other side? As they passed through Evergreen Harbour, her stomach squeezed. The feeling passed quick, the pained response got her an unwelcome audience. Vicky reached for her hand, dismissing the passengers’ concerns. To entertain Milly, Vicky had learnt to preoccupy the child’s imaginations. She loved to create stories for the passengers. Charlotte wanted to humour Vicky, but something pulled her back to the smoggy view.

Charlotte: …Forever?

Caleb’s cold skin pressed to her absorbing its warmth, heart rapid at his touch. His teeth lengthened, sinking into flesh. Blood as it trickled along her collarbone, dripped down to her breasts. This pleasure, his desire, made her defenceless, and Charlotte wanted him to devour her. She pulled the duvet tighter around her, body twisted against the vision. A breathless echo through the hall summoned Caleb back to her and the physical realm. He passed through the house in a blur. Despite Patrick ordering Caleb to leave, he remained in the shadows. He sense her arousal, Charlotte woke; her lustful hands reached for him. Caleb laughed, allowing her to climb onto his lap. Kisses pushed him down, as she took control of his body, nibbling his ear. He relaxed, it was clear as she unbuttoned his trousers, she was feeling better.

They cuddled in the aftermath, Caleb stroked her hair, her head resting against his chest. Charlotte was ready. She knew the risks, the possibility that Caleb could drain her completely. A fear his inner demon would seize control. Her body may reject the transition, and become another of the stories. Half turned humans, their bodies decaying, blood poisoned, neither living nor undead. This only scratched the surface of the challenges she may face. Vampire blood emphasised qualities and traits within the host, and the sun may be forever lost to her. Her desire remained strong, to become his eternal mate, and see the world as it changed. Charlotte wanted to rest in his arms as the final sunrise burnt her and the world to a crisp and life was no more.

The decision tore Caleb, the warmth of his human lovers, having to leave them when a need for a family became their priority. The innocent charm of Charlotte, her decision to let him take her, mark her, claim her as his own. He could not imagine a world where she was not in it. To make her a vampire, skin cold, a heart that could break yet never beat, they would be forever linked, and Charlotte already felt his presence. He took her hands, wanting to share his world with her, but it was a conversation for another day; being a vampire does not suit everyone, and the cure was hard to find.

Nausea returned; Charlotte wanted to avoid admitting her sister was right. In the basement of her home, Charlotte shared her thoughts in her diary. They took precautions; while always foolproof, Charlotte had hoped they were enough. She rubbed her stomach to settle another wave, wishing she could eat something else, uncertain her baby would grow on a diet of dry toast and ginger biscuits.

Caleb’s throat dried, unsure how to respond. He had imagined a new generation of vampire children, ones trained from birth and able to control their thirst. Charlotte wanted to continue, for him to turn her, but raising human offspring in a vampire world was forbidden, the complications were immense and heartbreaking. He had ignored Vlads warnings as a youngling, choosing to pretend he was human. As his wife and child aged, questions and suspicions saw him almost held at dawn. Vlad stepped in taking him away, it broke his heart unable to see either again. His last human mate asked him to gift her with a family, she was getting old and unsure she would meet another love. These children were raised, aware of their heritage, they came looking for him in their late teens. Their relationship was one of friendship and to keep the secret called him Caleb.

Caleb found it difficult to conceal his disappointment, his voice broke as he ask what she needed. Assurances that he would take her as his mate were not forthcoming, Charlotte’s eyes stung, pushing from his embrace. Their future was full of uncertainty and difficult questions as for the second time in his life, Caleb was not ready to walk away. Love might not be always enough, but Charlotte needed his reassurance as worse was to come. How did she explain to Eliza and Patrick at seventeen, that she was pregnant?

Charlotte: Now and…

The outside consisted of a pool, hot tub and a patio area. To the rear of both houses, nature had reclaimed the unused space. Inspired by his recent trip to Granite Falls, Patrick made way for his vision. Patrick ripped the weeds from their stronghold, clearing rubble and broken tombstones. A metal frame supported a fibreglass roof, providing shelter from the heavy rains. Beneath he lay large planter boxes in uniform rows. He screwed his nose as the compost, tempted to offer his sister a few worms for dinner. With an aching back he added the final touches; Patrick knew it would be worth it when the first seeds sprouted. Standing back, Patrick squared his shoulders imagining the flourishing fruit and vegetables. This achievement breathed life into the future, and Eliza may hold the key. He tapped excited, hoping her former boss was hiring or if they knew of some jobs in the area.

Charlotte huffed, crossing her arms, as Patrick started work on another area. He laughed at her pouty lips, advising she pulled in her bottom lip before she fell. The area he believed would be something special, and Charlotte would appreciate it. She shook her head, the idea he would turn their serene home into a farm irritated her. It was not the only issue; Charlotte missed a few school days due to a stomach bug. Patrick dismissed it, knowing his sister had a flair for the dramatic. Unfazed by her threats, he refused to make chicken soup or fetch some from Aunt Vicky’s. Sympathy it seemed was in short supply, as Eliza teased she was pregnant. Charlotte growled, tossing her phone to Patrick. She narrowed her eyes, grossed by Patrick begging Eliza to arrange him with Juliana. He had pursued her since they met at the cinema. When he discovered she was Eliza’s friend, it’s all he spoke of. Charlotte knew her brother would never understand true love. It is what she believed Caleb had given her, and no one could tell her different.

Her stomach churned; she tried to blame the Zombie movie Patrick insisted they watch. Caleb’s brow furrowed, uncertain if it was the gore or genuine illness. Patrick leaned back, smirking; he suggested Charlotte was faking. Recent exams had worried her, but her grades were excellent. Teachers were ecstatic, encouraging Charlotte to apply for university. She had waivered, three years, it would mean waiting to start her dream life. The alternative was to take an apprenticeship in law, science or technology. Patrick nudged Caleb, still staring in the direction Charlotte fled. He disapproved of his baby sister dating an older man feeling this was the reason she refused to make plans. The distraction from her school work concerned him. Caleb ignored Patrick; Charlotte had been vomiting for several days. He could not believe it was a simple stomach upset or stress-related.

Charlotte crawled into bed; Caleb pulled the covers over, sweeping a stray hair from her face. He pressed the issue, the need for decisions as school concluded. She glared, his youthful appearance grated, life eternal. Her beauty would fade, her skin creased, breasts droop, and death would call. The words came bitter; she lay suffering. She knew his youthful appearance would remain; while her beauty faded. He could walk away as her skin creased and breasts drooped. Why would he stay when he could avoid the moment when death called for her. A desire for eternal life was her wish long before Caleb; his presence had made it tangible. She rolled away sobbing. Emotions pounded her hard these past few days; she yelled, cried and felt energised on a whim. He climbed onto the bed, curling around her, kissing her head. Caleb whispered, the soft voice made her shiver. All Charlotte needed to remember was that he loved her.

Eliza: Rookie

When Eliza made her move to the city, her life spiralled, and she needed a space she could breathe. A relationship with her father, at that time, was on his terms; she had to be his glory, achieving the results he wanted. The apartment continued to host infestations of rats and cockroaches. The refresh was tedious progress as money flow remained tight. Small changes included wallpaper, bed and a much-needed bookcase. The rats were still intent on eating everything in sight, but her favourites novels were safe. Eliza enjoyed trips to Brindleton Bay; spending time with Milly. The hardest part came from Vicky, who caught herself calling Eliza by her aunt’s name. The other luxuries Eliza craved drained her savings. She wanted to party; explore the city, something she planned to do with her cousin. Till then, why should she live in the Arts District and deny herself access to its beauty?

The Strangerville F.C offered Eliza a place on their starting line-up. Her former manager recommended them as a mediocre minor league team in need of a star player. It would be a place to train; hone her skills, gain the potential scouts were looking for. In Strangerville, civilians observed outsiders with caution. It seemed the people who lived in the sleepy town were military, scientists or related to them. Another divide came from those looking to escape the weirdness. She found herself surrounded by whispers. A secret lab rumoured to be conducting experiments, a disease released into the town. Residents experienced a temporary madness, speaking in tongues. Eliza made sure to avoid the main town, the situation made her uneasy. She focused on her soccer skills, not questioning the sudden absences of her team members. Disappointment came as the promised scouts failed to appear. As the season concluded, her team reached the semi-finals of the Minor League cup.

Gathering the family in her one-bedroom apartment for the Spring Equinox sounded fun. The reality proved uncomfortable. Eliza’s home boasted a meagre three seats, which the family took turns sitting. Patrick’s nose screwed, the food leaving a disappointing taste in his mouth. The illusion of eating chicken did not compare to the actual meat. He respected his sister’s choice to be a vegetarian and her improving cooking skills. What he wished is they had hosted this in Newcrest. His mouth watered at the idea of grilled sausages, burgers or a juicy steaked. Eliza nudged him; Patrick forced a smile, exclaiming deliciousness. She knew he was lying as the exaggerated reaction echoed through the room. Eliza’s heart sank; half-eaten plates, abandoned on the counter in favour of a city walk and the vendors.

Charlotte, Patrick, Milly, Vicky and Eliza

The phone buzzed, San Myshuno Warriors were ready to offer Eliza her big break. Eliza scored two of three goals and lined up countless other opportunities. Impressed by the raw talent, Eliza had shown herself, a valuable team player and they wanted her. They issued a contract for two seasons on thick, high-quality paper, the team’s logo in the top right. Eliza was a pro-athlete, the rookie. Terms and Conditions were a headache to read. The money meant she could begin her search for the perfect downtown apartment.

Vicky: The Lighthouse

Part Two

The weather turned chilly, the wind blew strong, and the snow begged to fall. Milly’s stomach growled, the generous breakfast fuelled her until she spied a muffin. Her green eyes sparkled at the accompanying marshmallow mountain hot chocolate. What was missing from the perfect day was the views, the sun setting across the bay. The best place was atop the lighthouse, Milly understood they stretched for miles. Vicky’s interest in the museum, the slow tour guide meant darkness fell.

Brindleton Bay Lighthouse: Milly and Vicky

Milly raced up the winding staircase, imagining pirate ships scattered across the bay. They braced themselves, wind-whipped, Seafret stinging their cheeks. Vicky pulled Milly back from the edge fastening her coat. Despite the breathtaking views, lost to the night, the lantern-lit land and oceans, as it spun. The stars were almost concealed by the clouds moving in, bringing the predicted storm. Vicky hugged her daughter tight for warmth, encouraging her to consider leaving. Milly shuddered disappointed, squeezing her Vicky promised a return in the spring.

Vicky’s nieces and nephews were teenagers, so invitations to Milly were scarce. To build the relationship, Vicky took the cousins to dinner. They took the train to Oasis Springs and Ziva’s favourite restaurant, the Chez Llama. It failed to help; Milly sat quiet, listening to Rhonda and Casey gossip. They were in high school; boys, music and make-up, and the recent catwalk trends heavily debated. Milly tried to interject their conversation, particularly with the boys Thomas and Yahir. In the end, she looked relieved when the food arrived. A volcanic pasta dish, sauce oozed, thick creamy tomatoes, red wine and cheese. It topped a mountain of pasta, Milly stabbed with her fork with a huge grin. Vicky wondered how one small girl could eat her weight in food and have room for dessert.

Milly cuddled Libby and Abby by the fire, tired of the stormy weather. The cats preferred the slower pace life offered as they reached elder status. Libby yearned to be up high; it was Vicky who placed her atop the fridge enabling her to frown on Vicky’s cooking. Abby enjoyed batting her toys towards Milly who laid on her stomach, legs bent, kicking the air. She knocked them back, giggling, encouraging Abby to attack.

Visitors in this weather was unheard of, so a frantic knock at the door was a welcome surprise. Eliza dripped weight down with gifts. Milly hugged, her clothes soaking up the rain from the jacket as Vicky handed Eliza a towel. Amongst the toys, books and artwork Patrick sent, Milly spied a violin. The cats shot from the room as the bow screeched against the strings. Vicky cringed, mouthing an annoyed “Thank you”, Eliza grinned seizing the bow.

Laying the table, Vicky listened to Eliza; she spoke to Milly as an equal, which gave her a sense of hope for the future. Her ears could use a rest from the violin’s instruction, but she was please Eliza came. It was the perfect opportunity to have a much-needed discussion. Vicky had put a lot of thought into retiring, when she might and what she would do. Emilie’s death and Milly’s outburst sparked a realisation, time was no longer on her side. Her paintings were making good money which would cover their living costs. Ziva’s savings and the sale of the house, support Milly should she want to go to university. The question remained, where would Milly live? The bond between Eliza and Milly she recognised as the strongest. She believed, even if Eliza was uncertain, that it would be the best place for Milly.

Vicky: The LightHouse

Part One

The income covered the bills, with nothing remaining for luxuries. Vicky took overtime, hoping to avoid using the saving she and Ziva put aside for Milly’s future. The price for her absence was leaving her daughter alone and with family at the weekend. Since Ziva’s death, the house was cold, empty, the two cats made for poor conversation. What greeted her was a harsh reality, scowls, folded arms, and a paint-splattered floor. Vicky tried firm disapproval, a polite request that she cleans the mess. Her daughter stamped her feet, wondering when Vicky would receive retribution.

Vicky listened to the sobbing; Libby gave a knowing look from the top of the fridge. It had been months since she made a decent meal; a fridge; filled with quick bites saved her the trouble. Tonight Vicky needed to apologise; Pasta Primavera would have to do. The smell of cooking made Milly’s mouth water; she cleaned quicker, eager to enjoy a proper meal. Vicky acknowledged things were difficult, wanting to pretend everything was fine. She realised solving their financial situation meant neglecting what mattered. Milly closed her homework keeping her eyes lowered, guilty at her outbursts. She wanted to be selfish; have her remaining parent with her. Vicky sank into the chair, a silent weight, a sickness in her stomach. How had she made her precious child feel awful and to blame?

Beautiful weather brought a cool breeze from the sea, and the snow had cleared. Milly skipped ahead along the sunlit path, pausing to watch basking cats or dogs play chase. Vicky gazed at her empty hands, no longer holding Ziva’s, a love she hoped would remain with her. Vicky laughed; the steady pace she kept; was keeping them from excitement. Her daughter pushed, forcing Vicky to make good on her promise with haste. Steeped in History, Vicky told stories of Brindleton Bay as they walked. Their home faced the ocean in Cavalier Cove, renowned for pirate treasures. Milly screwed her nose; the water annoyed her, the icy flow meant it was too cold for swimming. It was the northern waters picking up the melting ice from the poles. Inland, Sable Square sat to the south and included the dog park and Vet clinic. The main town, Whiskerman’s Wharf, is an affectionate reference to the mayor. Milly laughed at the idea; it seemed nonsense to have a cat as town leader. Mayor Whiskers, a cat, elected to honour fisherman who sailed with feline protection.

A short boat trip took their journey to its final destination. The Deadgrass Isle had a coffee shop museum, an animal cemetery and a lighthouse. Milly loved the dramatic paintings but it was nothing compared to the lighthouse. She rolled her eyes at the guide, his stories of how the cats and dogs came to call this town. Ziva told them with more fascination and sound effects. She tugged Vicky, pushing past the detailed descriptions of historical treasures. Time would get away from them, Milly could see the sun setting.