"His Father's Eyes"
The sea
breeze felt good, still cool, but with the warm promise of spring beginning to
whisper beneath the chill. Edea Kramer sighed and brushed a long, stray strand
of raven hair out of her eyes, and stared out over the ocean. It felt good to
have a minute to herself; since the Sorceress War suddenly and unexplainably
came to a grinding halt, war orphans had been pouring in from every part of the
world. Edea was devoted to protecting and raising these children, and finding
them good homes…but still, considering the fact that she had no less than seven
children under the age of two—on top of her older orphans--currently residing
in the old stone ruin, she was starting to feel frazzled.
She heard a
discontented baby's wail in the background. She listened for a moment,
identified the baby as young Zell, and glanced down at her watch. Two o'clock;
he was probably hungry. She smiled slightly as she heard her husband begin to
speak to the baby; just like a man to try and convince a hungry baby he should
stop crying with logic.
"He wants
his bottle, Cid." Edea shouted back at the building. "You'd better feed him or
he'll wake the others."
The
hiccuping sobs of the baby and Cid's confused mumblings about where the heck
that bottle had gotten off to in the refrigerator made her smile. "Do you want
me to come take care of it?" she asked.
"No, no,
you need some time to yourself." Cid protested. "I can…ah-ha! There we go.
Bottle. Here you…what?!" Zell's crying paused for a second, then began again in
earnest.
"You have
to warm it up or he won't drink it." Edea cautioned.
"I can see
that."
"There's
hot water already simmering on the stove, dear, just stick the bottle in it for
a few minutes. But make sure you test it before you give it to him. You don't
want it to get too hot."
"I know, I
know." Cid's sigh was clear even from this distance. "I can handle it, darling,
you relax."
Edea
chuckled to herself and looked back out over the ocean. There was no such thing
as relaxation for a mother…even if she wasn't biologically the mother of
anyone. That still disappointed and bothered her sometimes. Edea sobered, her
mood turning reflective. Whether it was due to some fault in her biologically,
or due to some quirk of being a Sorceress, Edea was incapable of bearing
children. In all honesty, she herself didn't know why that was. She'd never
heard of a Sorceress having children anytime recently, but history seemed to
suggest it was possible. The Great Hyne was supposed to have given the
Sorceress power to his descendants…and it was theorized that the reason only
certain women could inherit Sorceress power was because they too were descended
from the Hyne. It seemed to Edea that being a Sorceress therefore didn't
necessarily preclude a woman from becoming a mother…though the only other
Sorceress alive that she knew of, Adel of Esthar, had never borne a child
either. No, the fault probably lay with Edea herself…though what it was, and
how to fix it, was beyond both modern science and the powers of her own Sorcery.
She
supposed the reasons didn't really matter. She could never have children. When
she first realized this, it almost broke her heart. It was then that she
decided to devote herself to the raising and aiding of children who had no
family. They were kindred spirits, of a sort, the children who needed a
family's—a mother's—love but had no one to give it, and the woman who
wanted badly to give that love but could never have a child of her own.
No, that
wasn't true, she told herself stubbornly. They were her children. They
were as much her children as they were the children of their biological
parents. Even when she turned them over to an adoptive family, they were still
very much her children, in a way. She had loved them, and nurtured them, and
found them a good home…
But they
weren't hers. They were never hers, they never would be. She tended them
knowing that one day she would have to give them up…and they weren't hers to
begin with. Loving them was painful…and doubting their love was worse. How
could they truly love her when she lacked the basic tie—the blood tie—that
bound a child to it's parent?
"Mrs.
Kramer? Mrs. Edea Kramer?"
Edea hadn't
heard the stranger come up behind her. Surprised, she got up and turned to face
him. "Yes, I'm Edea." She said. A uniformed solider of Galbadia? He was
carrying a familiarly shaped bundle…and behind him, peering from behind his
legs, were the eyes of a small child.
"You run
this establishment?"
"Yes. My
husband and I run the orphanage." She replied. She bent down, hands on her
knees, and peeked at the little girl. "I take it Galbadia would like to give
these orphans to my charge?" she smiled and gave the little girl a wave. The
child stared at her for a moment, then giggled. She had a catchy little laugh.
"Our own orphanages
are filled to capacity…and the circumstances regarding this pair are…unusual."
The solider replied. "I think we'd better discuss this…hey!"
Edea
expertly relieved him of the bundle. "Yes, whatever." She said absently,
looking down at the baby. "Hello, there, little one." Another infant…quite a
young one. Less than two months old if Edea was any judge. "What are their
names? Never mind, I'll ask the child." She bent down again to be on the little
girl's eye level, still carefully holding the baby. "What's your name,
dearest?"
"Ellone."
The girl said cheerfully.
Ellone...Ellone…
"I'm
sorry…she hasn't passed this way…is she your daughter?"
"No…she's just so cute…and
the Estharian soldiers…"
Could it
just be a coincidence of names? Edea straightened, eyes still locked on the
child's. "That's my little brother." Ellone went on. "I have to look out for
him. He's Aunt Raine's baby. Aunt Raine said to look out for him until Uncle
Laguna came back." She anxiously up at the solider. "Uncle Laguna is coming
back, right?"
The solider
and Edea shared a look. She doesn't really understand, Edea thought
sadly. He was already here. I wonder if he's still even alive? So many have
died in the war…
"Perhaps
you're right. We should talk inside." Edea said, nodding in the direction of
her house. "This way."
Ellone was
promptly engaged in a game of chase outside in the flower field with some of
the other young children, under the mindful eye of some of the young teens.
Edea watched from the window, still cradling the baby, while she listened to
the Galbadian talk. "…The villagers sent the children to the orphanage in
Deling City." The solider said. "But it's already filled past capacity. On top
of that, the villager who brought them to us told a rather disturbing tale of
repeated attempts by Esthar to kidnap the girl—one of which succeeded, though
she was eventually returned. Shortly afterwards, her caretaker, a young woman
named Raine, died…the infant is her son. She had no family, and the boy's
father left to look for the girl when she was abducted but never returned. The
villagers…were rather displeased. Raine was very well loved…and I'm afraid they
weren't much disposed to feeling charitable towards the son of the man they've
come to blame for much, even for her sake. As for the girl…they weren't
inclined to keep her, fearing another attack. We ourselves can't risk having
her in a big city like the capital, Mrs. Kramer. She'd draw too much attention.
Imagine what would happen if Esthar—or somebody else—came after her again? It
would endanger the entire city."
"That's
understandable." Edea replied. She looked back down at the infant. He looked
back up at her, his misty blue eyes fixing quite determinedly on her dark ones.
Where they his father's eyes, or merely the fading blue of a newborn? "What are
their name's?"
"Ellone's
own parents died some time ago. We don't know what her full name is; the
villagers didn't call her anything but Ellone. As for the boy, his given name
is Squall. His mother's last name was Leonhart, so far as we know. There seems
to be no consensus as to whether his father was married to his mother; the two
villagers who brought them to us couldn't agree on the subject. It matters
little; we don't even know his name. Ellone calls him Uncle Laguna…other than
that…" the solider shrugged. "She slurs words, sometimes. That might not even
be the father's first name…assuming Uncle Laguna is Squall's father. The
villagers didn't mention that, either. They weren't inclined to talk about
him."
Edea ran a
finger across the baby's cheek. "I'm overloaded myself." She said quietly. "The
war with Esthar has left many children orphans. Entire families have been
destroyed. And the actions of your own country have not been precisely been
blameless —I have many orphans here from Timber, you know…"
The solider
was silent.
"But that
doesn't matter. I'll keep them." Edea said without looking up. "I don't hold
children accountable for the actions and sins of their parents and homeland."
-Not
that your father was guilty of anything but loving and ignorance- Edea
thought, gazing at the baby –Loving Ellone enough to risk everything to find
her…and ignorance of your own existence. Laguna spoke of his wife…but made no
mention of you. He didn't even know about you. I wonder if he ever will?-
"I'll
keep them." She repeated, standing. "Cid?" she turned to face her husband,
guilt and worry masking her elegant features. They were already so crowded….
"We'll make
arrangements." Cid assured her. "What's two more when we're already over
capacity as it is?" he shrugged and smiled. "We'll make do. We always have."
Edea smiled
gratefully at him.
"Thank
you." The solider said quietly.
"Your
government can thank me by contributing something to the orphanage." Edea said
seriously. "Since I'm tending not only their orphans, but orphans they
created."
"I'll make
arrangements." The solider promised.
"It would
be appreciated." Edea replied. "Now, if you'd pardon me, I have work to do. As
I said, the wars have left many orphans, and we have only my husband and myself
to tend the children. Perhaps you could be so kind as to work your arrangements
out with Cid, as I really should get back to the children."
Edea left
then, leaving the men to discuss the financial arrangements, Squall still
cradled in her arms.
"Sis!"
Edea
watched as Ellone laughed and narrowly avoided letting the determined toddlers
catch her as they played in the front yard…except for Squall, whom she dragged
around after her by the hand. Any of the other young ones would've protested
this treatment; Squall just toddled after her as fast as he could, determined
not to be left behind by the only one of the other children he unconditionally
adored. Squall was a strange child, a loner, and not one to join in games…but
Ellone could get Squall to do anything, even play with the other children. He
followed her around like a puppy.
She was
amused by the child's eagerness and devotion…and no little touched and
saddened. The determination and devotion in the little boy's incredible blue
eyes—his father's eyes—reminded her powerfully of the man who'd loved a little
girl so much he'd risked—and apparently lost—everything to save her. In two
years, neither Edea nor Cid had been able to find any trace of Laguna Loire,
the man Ellone spoke of following and adoring much the way Laguna's son adored
and followed her. Ellone still spoke of her 'Uncle Laguna' and the way things
would be when 'Uncle Laguna' came for her and Squall. The child simply refused
to admit that her adored Uncle was probably gone forever.
It was
somehow poetic…and very sad, yet somehow thinking about it always comforted
Edea. The purity the love in a child's blue eyes, so reminiscent of his
father's eyes…and the returned devotion in the eyes his adored 'Sis''…
Edea smiled
as Ellone finally picked Squall up and carried him, an incredible feat
considering how tiny the girl was. She'd learned a valuable lesson from the
pair, and the long vanished Loire. Blood ties didn't matter; love mattered…and
loss didn't matter. Ellone loved her Uncle Laguna and Raine as devoted now, two
years after she'd lost them, as she did the day she was brought to the
orphanage. It made accepting her orphan's devotion to her as being as real and
unconditional as hers was to them easier…and gave her no end of comfort.
Quite a
lesson to learn from a man who was a memory memory, and a pair of children's
eyes.