Disclaimed.
This is set in the summer of 1918. For those fuzzy on this time line, WW1 is still going on.
An extra special thanks to Maddie (welcometomaddieland) who did some proof reading for me.
Please read and enjoy!
Kristen's eyes popped open earlier than usual on Sunday morning. She had had problems falling asleep the night before, and currently had butterflies in her stomach. It wasn't for the promise of seeing the allusive Kemp Hurley, who was prone to winking at her during Father Higgins's sermons. (A small, silly fact that would only make a young girl's Sunday mornings more bearable.) No, it was for another reason entirely. It was because today, she officially turned fourteen.
She jumped out of the bed with such force that her almost-twin sister groaned loudly.
"Kris," she grumbled and rolled over, refusing to say another word.
"Mass," Kristen said, turning to face her. "Wake up! Come on, it's our birthday!"
Massie rolled over again, leaned on her elbow and glared at Kristen.
"And?" she demanded coldly, eyes barely open.
"Just get up!" Kristen said and rushed to her wardrobe to pick out a dress.
Massie was usually happy to be a year older, as to her it meant more and better responsibilities; she grew wiser and prettier and she considered herself of higher importance with each year. Not to mention she was always pleased to receive gifts. She just wasn't pleased about being woken up at quarter to six on a Sunday morning.
"Do I look nice?" Kristen asked Massie, not really caring about the answer.
Massie responded without looking.
"Terrible. You look hideous," she said into the pillow.
Massie was also usually quite nice to Kristen, her best friend in all the world and 'almost twin' as their mother used to say. Massie was exactly one year younger than Kristen, born on her first birthday. They looked somewhat similar growing up and the fact that their mother had dressed them in the twins' old, identical clothing didn't help an ounce. Massie always hated looking exactly her sister, but Kristen had found some comfort in the small and unimportant ritual.
Once Kristen was ready, she exited their room and quietly shut the door. She made certain that as she walked down the carpeted hall to stop breathing as she passed her older sisters' room, as they were both light sleepers.
Once Kristen got clear of the long, quiet hallway she bolted down the stairs. She didn't stop running in this unladylike manner until she reached the kitchen and stopped dead.
Her father, Gregory Landon Block, sat straight-backed in a chair at the small kitchen table that was used only for breakfasts or if someone was in trouble and had to eat alone as punishment. Kristen didn't know what to say. It was a rare occurrence that she got to be alone with the man.
She cleared her throat to announce her presence but he still didn't look up. He just flipped to the next page of his newspaper.
"If you're just going to stand there doing nothing, you might as well make yourself useful and make some breakfast. Your Aunt hasn't woken up yet," he said coldly.
Kristen's good mood sank even further. She shouldn't have been so surprised that her father didn't remember her birthday, but still it hurt.
She got to making the oatmeal feeling dejected and upset.
Kristen had trouble remembering back to when she had a cozy happy family, even if it was only five years ago. It was before Todd had been born. Her mother had still been alive back then. That was the type of person Elise Block was. She could light up a room and make somebody smile no matter how bad their mood was. Her personality was so sparkling that people felt oddly changed after just a short encounter with her. She was the centerpiece of the family, the glue that kept them all together. And when she passed away everything had changed, and almost all of those changes had been for the worst.
Kristen pushed these thoughts aside, not wanting to ruin her special day, and focused on the oatmeal in the pot in front of her.
By the time she was done, Claire, her older sister, had arrived in the kitchen in a soft blue dress holding a package. She deposited it on the table and gave Kristen a bright little smile before taking a seat.
As Kristen spooned out the oatmeal her sour mood lifted gradually as the feeling of pleasure entered. At least somebody was going to be nice to her on her birthday.
Kristen sat down at the table and Claire talked cheerfully about her new book, Grey's Anatomy. It was a medical book and Kristen hadn't been allowed to touch it when their father had brought it home. Claire was always very protective of her books, particularly if they were medical or scientific ones, as Claire wanted to be a doctor.
At times that was all she would talk about. Becoming a doctor. Almost everybody who she told about this disapproved and immediately told her girls became nurses. But Claire would laugh and tell them not to be old-fashioned or a bore. Kristen knew this had never been her old response. Her mother had encouraged when she was alive and somehow their father had viewed this small deed as honoring his dearly beloved's memory, took over. That was something that Kristen desperately wanted: her father's approval, encouragement and praise.
"May I see the book?" Kristen asked, figuring now that she was fourteen her sister would have to let her.
Claire paused to think about it. She slid her long fingers through her long sleek blonde hair—something her mother always used to do with her identical hair—and nodded.
Though Kristen would never admit it, she was eternally jealous of her older sister for so many reasons. They were small and silly, but Kristen wanted the traits for herself.
Claire continued talking idly as her father stood up.
"I must go wake the others. We'll be late for church," he said stiffly. As he limped by, he deposited a brown a package on the table next to Kristen.
It took her a few moments to realize it was a gift. She then looked up and grinned at Claire and ripped it open.
Kristen's father was a university professor. Her mother and aunt had grown up in the country. The little inheritance that they did had belonged to Kristen's cruel Grandmother, whom she despised. She rarely got expensive gifts and was almost never privy to decadence. That was why the gift of a midnight blue silk dress shocked her. It was absolutely beautiful.
"My God!" Claire exclaimed before stopping herself and looking every which way as if expecting to find a preacher scolding her.
"I know," Kristen gasped.
"How did he afford that?" she said, picking up the sleeve of the dress as if it was a baby bird.
"I hope he hasn't robbed someone," Kristen whispered.
"What are you two gossiping about?" said a harsh voice from the doorway.
Both girls jumped up and said, "Nothing, Grandmother," simultaneously.
Celia Crane Block glared at her granddaughters for a few long minutes then turned to frown at the stove, or more specifically, at the pot of oatmeal.
"What is that?" she demanded viciously.
"Oatmeal."
"It smells like something a bird brought in," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Skye Marie! Have you seen this?" she said turning to glare at her daughter-in-law's sister as she walked into the kitchen fixing her hair.
"Oh? No, no I haven't," Aunt Skye said absentmindedly as she looked around desperately for her Sunday hat.
Celia always referred to Skye as Skye Marie to demean her. Skye and Celia had never gotten along. They both disapproved of one another and thought the other was a bad influence on the children.
"Fix you hair, girl!" she snapped at Claire before leaving.
She always went on and on about how Claire wasn't a real lady and how she would never get a husband because of how rebellious she was. Celia thought quite avidly that was a girl's duty. To grow obeying her elders and then obeying her husband. Claire in turn thought Celia was an absolute loony.
"What about presents?" Massie demanded as she storms into the kitchen.
"When we get back, dearest," Aunt said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
"Sky-ye!" came the high-pitched whine of Todd, the youngest child.
"What is it, darling?" Skye asked as she lowered herself to make eye contact with the five-year-old.
"I don't want to go!" he said with a small stamp of his foot.
"Chin up, brave soldier. No one wants to go," Olivia, Claire's twin, said as she entered. She was fixing her lengthy blonde hair with a forest green ribbon that matched her dress.
"I beg your pardon," said a sharp, cold voice that could cut through iron.
Everyone in the kitchen froze and jumped to attention like an army as if the general were walking among them.
Their father stood in the doorway leaning on his walking stick for a full minute giving his offspring a particularly sour glare before exiting for the front hall.
Everyone immediately relaxed and Kristen ran upstairs for to grab a hat and to stash her presents. By the time she got back downstairs everyone was pulling on their shoes and forgetting their jackets in the early morning August heat.
Aunt Skye put on some lipstick in front of the small mirror hanging on the wall.
Celia made a noise of disgust and said, "You're wearing that to God's House? You look like a hussy!"
"Do I?" Aunt Skye asked vaguely as she pulled out a darker shade and put that on in much greater quantity.
"What's a hussy?" Todd asked, pulling on Aunt Skye's dress.
"Amber Flynn," Olivia volunteered and she, Massie, Kristen and Claire burst into loud, scandalized giggles.
A simple glare from their father silenced them instantly and he threw the door open, allowing bright morning sun to stream into the hall.
He walked out and the family followed without another word.