W - Wild About Wednesday

by Bdoyle

IT'S FIXED!. Phil and Melinda experience life while raising their four adopted children. Everyone is just a bit older and preparing for a special event but crazy accidents and still wild child Skye are making things much more difficult to manage. Melinda is at her wits end until Phil returns and smooths things over. Some mature subject matter.

W – Wild About Wednesday

"Momma! I can't find my sneakers!" The desperate cry came from somewhere in the house. Melinda could not judge where since it was muffled a bit by whatever or wherever the seeker had her head stuffed.

"You are not wearing sneakers." She called back, knowing the child would deny ever hearing the order even though it had been repeated several times in the last few days. The silence that followed was evidence of just that. Melinda smiled as she put the finishing touches on her make up and pictured her youngest plopped on her bottom grumbling over the fact that she would have to wear real shoes in addition to the dress she was being forced into.

Jemma slipped into the room behind her mother and smiled broadly. "You look radiant, Momma." She stooped to kiss her mother's cheek. "You'll teach me?"

Melinda set down the mascara and smiled back at the young teen. "A few more years," she grinned at the fall of her daughter's smile. Turning she took the girl's hands in her own and pulled her on to her lap. "I just need you to be my little girl for just a bit longer." She placed a quick kiss on Jemma's cheek.

The girl's smile was back. "Oh, Momma I barely fit on your lap anymore." She wrapped her arms around Melinda's neck and offered a quick hug. "But I do like it," she whispered into her mother's ear before standing and placing her hands on Melinda's shoulders. She let out a soft breath.

"You've so much to do and Da isn't home yet. Fitz is all upset not able to tie a proper Full Windsor. And you need to get yourself ready as well. Can I help?"

"Momma," a high pitched whine interrupted the mother-daughter conversation. "I can't wear those dumb sandals they hurt my feet and all the little rocks and crappy stuff gets under there. You want me ta get all blisteried."

Melinda smiled at Jemma and turned to Skye. She let out a frustrated breath. "They are brand new sandals that don't hurt your feet and you are going to wear them for the few hours you'll be sitting tonight."

Skye threw back her head and groaned as she slid down the doorframe to the floor dropping her head in her hands. Her short braids swayed side to side as she shook her head, despite the fact that one had lost its pony band and was dangerously close to untwisting. "I can't wear that dress," she held out one hand and sucked back a teary sob. "It itches my armpits."

Melinda shook her head at the drama her youngest had down to perfection. She also grimaced at the condition of her little girl. Clad in an oversized Orioles T-shirt and dark shorts covered in grass stains and what looked like some kind of green paint, the child drew her blackened knees to her chest. They were only out cruddied by the color of her bare feet. Considering the dark streaks on both of Skye's cheeks, Melinda was sure her hands were just as dirty since she'd been swiping at tears with both.

The frustrated mother shook her head again. "Skye where have you been and how in the world did you get so dirty?"

Skye threw her arms out to the side and looked down at her self as she poked her legs out straight before her. "Mrs. Norton's dog got stuck under the deck again."

"And you were sure to volunteer to rescue him," Jemma tsked.

"I couldn't just leave him there Jemma," Skye was almost unbelieving as she looked up at her sister and bounced her hands where they still hung. "Did you wan'em to starve ta death or die of thirst? And what about poor old Mrs. Norton? She can't go scratchin' around under there."

Jemma shook her head. "I didn't say you shouldn't, Skye only that you are always the first to volunteer."

Skye looked down at the two green hand shaped smudge prints on her shirt and giggled. She pulled the hem of the shirt away from her skinny frame. "I kinda touched Mr. Skutnik's fence. I didna know he jus painted it. Boy was he mad. I had a run all the way through the alley and under the fence ta get ta the tree house." She looked up at her mother's raised eyebrow and held up a hand. "I said I's sorry, but he didna have no wet paint signs and how's I s'pose to know?"

"Any," Jemma sighed. "He did not have any signs." She just shook her head at the rest of the fractured grammar her sister used when she rushed through her wordy explanations.

Skye scrunched up one side of her face. "Yeah, he did not." She shrugged her shoulders once and twisted both arms to look at her elbows, then lifted one thigh and examined the long muddy green streak. She pointed to it with one finger and laughed. "This, this was so fun! The grass on that big lot 'hind Colander's house was all wet and soggy. I guess somebody watered it or somethin'. It was like sleddin' on grass. We must a went down a hundred times and this one right here," she pointed again to her thigh, pulling back her shorts with the opposite hand. "This one goes right up my bahoochie cuz my pants went right into a nasty wedgie." She shook as she grimaced.

"Skye," Melinda let out in a frustrated breath. "That is newly planted…" she stopped and shook her head, looking at her wide eyed baby. A thought suddenly occurred to the woman as she pointed to the little girl's almost black feet. "Have you been running all over the neighborhood in your bare feet?"

Skye looked at her feet and wriggled her toes. Turning down both sides of her mouth she shrugged again. "Well, I can't find my sneakers…"

"That is so very dangerous, Skye." Jemma scolded as Melinda closed her eyes and took another breath. "What if you'd cut yourself or stepped on some filthy object? There are so many diseases out there."

"Jemma," Skye rolled her eyes. "There's dirt and rocks and grass and when the sidewalk 's too hot I walk on the side. The only cut I got is right here and it's almost gone." The little girl pulled her knee to her chin with one arm and picked at a small scab with the opposite hand."

"Skye, do not touch that abrasion with those most dirty hands," Jemma warned.

"Ah, don't be such a…" Skye retorted.

"Enough!" Melinda ordered as she stood and held out a hand. "You," she pointed at Skye, narrowing her eyebrows. "Get your little bahoochie in the tub and hopefully we can scrub the day off of you."

Skye pushed her self up along the same frame she slid down. "A bath? Now? Momma it's only…we have a million hours before we hafta be there!"

"It's closer to five before we have to leave and you're going to need at least two to soak that crud loose." Melinda warned. She turned to Jemma. "You want to help? Get your sister in the tub and don't let her out until she's back to human color."

Skye had already slid around the doorframe, hoping to make a quick exit. She could be to the tree house in about ten seconds.

"Stop right there," Melinda's command froze the little girl in place. She moved into the hallway and stood in front of her youngest and most difficult child, folded her arms over her chest and tapped one foot on the soft carpet. Skye peeked up over her brows and took a quick breath.

Melinda took the little girl's chin in one hand and gently raised her head to meet her eyes. "You have two choices Skye." She spoke with just a little smile on her lips.

"Is one not wearing a dumb dress that strangles my arms?" Skye smiled as she slipped both hands behind her.

Melinda shook her head and smiled again at the little girl's pout. "That is nonnegotiable, got it?" The little girl looked to the floor giving a quick nod. "Now, you can take a bath with or without my handprint on your stubborn little pigu." She released the little girl's chin and stood back, once again crossing her arms over her chest. "What's it gonna be, because I can go either way."

Skye's eyes darted around the hallway stopping every few seconds but not making contact with her mother. She squinted one eye closed and chewed her lip but never took her hands from the target it protected.

"Skye?" Melinda warned.

"I'm thinking." The little girl responded, drawing out the word.

Melinda shook her head, snatched the little girl's elbow and turned her sideways landing one firm swat on her bottom. "Decision made," she announced and pointed toward the bathroom door.

"OW!" Skye squawked as she rubbed a hand on the spot. "That hurt and I wasn't ready even." She grumbled.

"Are we done?" Melinda asked, glaring down at her daughter.

Again the little girl hesitated.

Melinda counted to ten in her mind. "You have exactly two seconds, Skye and then I will help you into the bath after I put about six more spanks on that not even ready bottom." She was certainly exaggerating, but Skye didn't need to know that. "One…"

She didn't get to two. A thump from the boys' room followed by a soft moan pulled her attention to another dilemma.

Jemma stepped from her parents' room, took her little sister by the shoulders and half steered/half pushed her into the bathroom. "Don't be a ninny, Skye," she warned. "Momma is past upset and you really do not want to go there." She got Skye into the room and quickly closed the door.

xx

Melinda pushed open the door to the boys' room. "What the hell is go…" was out and stopped flat before she poked her head around it.

Fitz was sprawled on the floor one hand bracing himself up, the other attempting to stop the gush of blood from his nose. It already covered his white dress shirt and was dripping on to the lap of his khaki shorts. Trip, in a sleeveless T-shirt and dress pants knelt at his side uselessly trying to jam what looked like another T-shirt under the flow while simultaneously and just as uselessly attempting to pry the younger boy's hand aside.

The young man cast a quick look over his shoulder and thrust out a palm toward his mother. "It's cool, Mom, cool. Just a little bump. We're good. I got this." He shot back nervously, hopping his little brother's nose was not broken.

Melinda pulled her robe tighter and tested the sash before dropping to her knees beside the moaning boy. "Give me that," she barked at Trip as she yanked the shirt from his hand and looked at it. "Really, Trip? I just bought these yesterday." She huffed as she recognized the brand new Hanes.

The young man shrugged. "It was right there and…" he ended in a mumble realizing it was a rhetorical question.

She tugged her younger son forward. "Let me see, Fitz," she sighed as he tried pushing her away. "Fitz," she warned and he looked up at her with watery eyes. Melinda shook her head as the boy lowered his hand and folded his legs in front of him. She drew a quick breath through her teeth at the rapidly deepening bruise under his left eye. Shooting a quick glare at Trip she held the T-shirt under Fitz's nose and gently pressed her fingers along it.

"Owwww," Fitz moaned as he closed his eyes allowing the tears to run over his cheeks. He lifted both hands and shook them hard.

Melinda shook her head and pressed the cloth to her son's face. "Sit up and lean forward," she ordered pushing him gently into position. She rolled her eyes at the condition of his clothing, "so much for the new clothes."

Fitz attempted to pick up his head but found himself held in place by his mother's firm hand on the back of his neck. It was probably better to just stay where he was anyway. She didn't look very happy.

Looking at the overturned desk chair and scattered items across the room she pursed her lips and glared at her older son. "What went on in here?" She demanded in a low soft voice that sent chills down his spine despite the fact he stood a least a foot taller than the petite woman.

Trip glanced around the room. "We were…I…it," he found himself stammering as he tried to put some believable as well as reasonable explanation together in his mind before attempting to spill it out.

They weren't really doing anything. Trip had been taking his time making sure everything was spit polished and ready for the evening's event. His uniform jacket hung on the back of the closet door, shirt and tie were draped over his desk chair. The young man knew it was early but he needed to be there before the rest and he had a little last minute practicing to do…just to be sure. He stood in front of the mirror and rubbed a hand over his freshly shaven cheek.

Fitz practically fell into the room wrapped in nothing more than the towel secured at his waist. Beads of water clung to his ever curly hair. Trip stepped back to avoid the collision.

"Where ya goin' in such a hurry, little man?" He smiled at his younger brother. "Hot date?"

Fitz grabbed the towel before it slid to the floor. "Ha ha," he frowned at Trip. "I was doin' my best to be in and out of the loo before the girls got in there with all their primping and pampering." He pranced across the room swaying his hips and pumping a palm up and down. Trip let out a snort as the boy stopped and turned to face him. "Besides, I'm not the one all fresh and smellin' like that new cologne you had hidden in the back of the desk drawer there." He laughed as he wagged a finger in the direction.

Trip looked at his brother then to the drawer and then back. He pulled on his most stern face and pointed a finger of his own, stepping closer to Fitz with each word. "You been goin' through my stuff, little man? You been in my business? Lookin' for trouble?" He stopped when Fitz had backed to the wall and his finger was in the center of the younger boy's chest.

Fitz looked up at his brother wide eyed and opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Got nothin' to say now, do ya smart ass?" Trip narrowed his eyes glaring at his brother in mock anger then yanked Fitz's towel away and stepped back.

The younger boy dropped his hands to cover himself. "Hey! Give it back!" He tried to swipe at the towel with one hand while keeping his dignity with the other.

"Oh ho ho, now you've gone and crossed the line Lee O Pold…" Trip teased as he spun the damp towel into a long rope.

"I didn't," Fitz squeaked frantically looking for an escape but as it was Trip stood in front of the door and well, he was in no position to go skelping down the hallway. "I saw you put it there just yesterday."

"Ahh, I see," Trip paced a little side to side still twisting the towel in his hands. "Spying on me, was it then?" He stopped and raised an eyebrow then snapped the towel out narrowly missing his brother. He suppressed a snort at Fitz's reaction.

"Me…me, a spy?" the younger boy's voice was high with anticipation as he inched along the wall heading for the space between their two desks.

Trip snapped the towel again, cutting off Fitz's escape.

"Come on, Trip," the young teen pleaded. "This isn't funny."

"Nope, nope it is certainly not funny, not at all," Trip chuckled as he spun the towel again. "You know I though I caught a little whiff of Armani at dinner last night." He took a few steps, shaking his head. "Thought maybe Da upgraded." He stopped and spun on his younger brother, pointing one finger without losing the towel weapon. "It was you!" He smiled broadly. "You tried a little yourself didn't you? You little bugger."

Fitz shook his head rapidly. "It was an…an accident."

Trip rolled his eyes and let out a huff as his shoulders dropped slightly. "Man, you think I just fell off the turnip truck?" He used one of his grandmother's favorite sayings. "How do you accidentally use my…MY brand new cologne that I stuffed all the way back in my own private personal desk drawer."

"Ya well why'd ya have to go and hide it anyway? It's not like we don't know you use it." Fitz shot back with a bit of false bravado.

Trip snapped the towel again causing the younger boy to jump back. "Hmmm, going through my things, spying and stealing…" He smiled an evil smile and waggled his eyebrows at Fitz. "Know what that gets ya?"

Before the boy could answer Trip snapped the towel to his left. Fitz ducked right. He snapped it right and the boy went left but the third snap caught him square on one unprotected cheek. Fitz yowled as he shot a hand to his indignity, tripped over a cast aside sneaker and grabbed the back of Trip's desk chair. He lost his balance slipping off the shirt and tie hanging there and headed face first for the floor, stopped only by his brother's strong hand.

Trip pulled him back to his feet, stood back and laughed again. The towel lay puddled on the floor. Fitz massaged the injury forgetting all about his nakedness.

"That hurt," he growled through his teeth.

Trip laughed again and threw a pair of shorts at the boys hitting him square in the face. "Get dressed, little man."

Fitz caught the garment and quickly stuffed his legs into it before rubbing his backside again. "It's probably going to leave a mark." He complained.

Trip chuckled as he pulled a clean white t-shirt over his head. The original now just a little sweaty. "Nobody'll see it."

Huffing his disgust with his brother's teasing, Fitz dressed in silence doing his best to ignore the fact they were even in the same room. He couldn't hold a grudge long and found himself standing in front of his brother's dress jacket examining the ribbons pined to the left chest pocket.

"You got all of these in just four years?" Fitz asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Trip tied his shoe and dropped his foot to the floor. He gave a shrug. "Just doin' my best, little man." It was something Gramps used to say to him when he was just a little guy himself.

"Mom and Da are awfully proud of you," the younger boy remarked, more of an escaped thought.

Ruffling his younger brother's soft curls, Trip grinned. "Proud of you too, little man. Hey, you managed to make it to commencement a whole year before me." He pointed a finger at Fitz as he slid on his other shoe and tied it.

Fitz turned and hung his head. "But not like you…you're normal," he mumbled. "You did it the way you're supposed to, not all mixed up and rush, rush like me." Fitz shoved his hands in his pockets and wriggled his bare toes into the carpet pile.

Trip was on his feet and had the boy in a pseudo head lock before Fitz knew what was happening. He rubbed his knuckles softly on his brother's head. "You are sure a dumb ass for being a genius." He laughed as he released the boy and set a hand on his shoulder. "No kidding, Fitz, you are a genius. Own that, little man, it's who you are. You are goin' places. You can do anything, man." He wrapped an arm around the boy and dropped down on the bed and pointed to the spot next to him. Fitz complied with a huff.

"Hey, who fixed the dryer last week when Jemma was all in a snit about not having that whatever the hell such and such she needed for whatever?"

Fitz shrugged his shoulders.

"And who fandangled that thing a ma bob Da needed when he couldn't get the part to fix Lola's tranny?" Trip poked a finger into Fitz's skinny chest. "And, and how about when Skye was all heartbroken that the music box Sr. Clair gave her wasn't working anymore? Man, it was you brought the smile back to that baby girl." He smiled at Fitz who still hung his head.

"Yeah, but I can't play basketball." Fitz mumbled to his fingers.

"I suck at soccer." Trip countered. "And, you make one hell of a coach. We never would have taken States this year if it weren't for you and all that math, physics, mumbo jumbo. Hell, if it weren't for you we woulda lost Gavin. You got him through calculus, man. He pulled a damn B-!"

Fitz looked up at his brother for the first time and swiped away the tear that threatened to fall. "But I want to be like you, Trip." He blinked a few times then looked away. "You're going away and you've got all these plans. I'm just going to be here in a house full of crazy women and who's going to teach me to be cool and talk to girls and…"

Trip was dumbstruck for a moment just listening to his little brother continue. He shook his head to suck back his own tears. Fitz had been a little tag along, followed him like a puppy and interjected himself into almost everything Trip did even when the kid had absolutely no talent for it. But Fitz never stropped trying. He gave everything all he had. Trip just never thought about how much the kid idolized him. He blinked again and brushed a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Hey, what do you think Da is for?" He laughed as he stopped Fitz's litany.

The younger boy took a deep breath and turned up one side of his face. "Da? Seriously, you think he knows anything about girls?"

Trip laughed out loud and wrapped an arm around Fitz's head pulling him into a brotherly hug. He mock punched the small boy in the stomach making a explosion sound with his lips. Then whispered, "how the hell to you think he got Mom?"

Fitz let out a snort and fell silent for a beat. "Trip," he started quietly.

"Yeah?" the older boy replied just as quietly.

"Momma's gonna open a can a whop ass on you when she finds out you've been swearing at me." The younger boy imitated his brother's African American lingo and smiled inside the huggy headlock.

"Oh yeah," Trip squeezed a little tighter, causing Fitz to groan. "And just how's she gonna find out?" He pulled Fitz over his lap and raised a hand over his unprotected backside. "You gonna rat me out, brudda? Cuz I gots me a cure for that."

"No, no…don't…" Fitz laughed as he kicked and squirmed to escape. "I was just teasing. I won't say…"

Trip let his hand fall with a smart smack then let the smaller boy roll to the floor. Fitz landed on his knees rubbing the sting off his posterior. He narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth before launching himself into Trip's midsection, knocking the older boy off his guard and back against the wall. Trip's head thumped off the plaster.

"Ahh, did that hurt?" Fitz pouted.

Trip rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah," he snarled jokingly. "As a matter of fact it did."

"Good!" Fitz smiled and dove on top of the bigger boy.

They wrestled for a few minutes, pushing each other back and forth across the mattress as Trip allowed his younger brother the upper hand while being careful not to get too enthusiastic. At fourteen Fitz could still be considered a pipsqueak and Trip was already the size of a man. The younger boy landed a full punch into his brother's well muscled abs. Trip feigned a reaction wrapping his arms around his middle and letting out an exaggerated ooff. He bent at the waist and held up a hand in surrender.

Fitz stood on the bed and raised his arms over his head in a Rocky style cheer. Trip stood and laughed at his kid brother's celebration then lowered his brow.

"Not for long fool," he used his best Mr. T impression and grabbed the boy tossing him over his shoulder and using the power of tickle to defeat his mini attacker. "I will never be defeated as long as you are the most ticklish little Scot in all the world." Trip snickered in an evil villain with a hint of brogue accent.

"Oh, that's dreadful," Fitz moaned as he kicked, punched and thrashed to halt the torture.

Trip laughed again and bounced the smaller boy twice before stepping back with the intention of dropping him back on the bed, but there was that damn sneaker and the overturned chair and that towel and the pillows and comforter and Trip's untied shoe and everything together had him falling back and then forward before losing his grip on his brother. He tried to turn, to stop the brunt of the fall but heard the thump a second before he saw Fitz's head bounce off the arm of that damn tipped up chair.

And there they were when Mom pushed open the door and demanded an explanation. Now she knelt a few feet from him waiting for an answer.

He let out a fluttery breath. "We were just horsing around and…"

"You're lucky it's not broken." She stopped him, apparently less interested in the explanation than Fitz's current condition. Melinda stood and pulled Fitz to his feet telling him to keep his head down. She let out a frustrated sigh. She looked up at her older son taking in the condition of his attire. Luckily and miraculously he was blood free because there was no backup set of clothing for him.

Trip flipped up the chair that caused the whole catastrophe and eased Fitz toward it. Melinda shook her head again.

"Okay Fitz, get out of those clothes." She waited a half second before starting to unbutton his shirt. "Now, Fitz. With any luck we can soak the blood out of them. She pulled the shirt off his shoulders as Trip held the large cloth to his brother's nose. Melinda groaned at the seconded bloodied T-shirt as Fitz shook his khakis to the floor and kicked them off his foot.

The frustrated mother raised a finger to her very tall son and opened her mouth to start barking orders when the sound of Skye's screech and Jemma's quick but calmly chattered reassurance cut through the room. She turned toward it but kept the finger leveled at Trip.

"What the hell now?" She grumbled under her breath. She barked orders to the boys as she backed out of the room. "You get this place cleaned up and sit him down until that bleeding stops." She pointed to the chair. And turned marching toward the bathroom swearing rapidly in Mandarin.

"Wad chee zay?" Fitz's voice came nasal and muffled from behind the wadded shirt.

"Whoa, little man I did not know Mom knew those words…in any language?"

xx

Melinda slammed the bathroom door against the wall. She was way past done with this whole circus and it was time to put the monkeys back in their cages. Her jaw dropped at the sight of a fully naked and still filthy Skye standing on the vanity with Jemma holding a small bottle of something in an attempt to 'talk her down'.

"Momma!" the younger girl squealed as she leapt from straddling the sink into her quick thinking mother's arms.

"Gǎo shénme guǐ?" The woman growled as she absorbed the little girl's impact.

"Don't let her, momma! Don't let her!" Skye squealed even higher, if that was possible, wrapping her arms and legs around her mother like a wiry little critter.

Melinda took another deep breath, probably the hundredth in less than twenty minutes. At this rate she'd probably hyperventilate and drop like a stone. Which was not a bad idea, when she considered it. She pried Skye free and set her on the floor.

"You said a bad word, momma." The little girl smiled and held up a palm. "That's another dollar."

She glared until the little girl slipped both hands behind her back and backed into the cabinet doors.

"What is she screaming about?" She barked at Jemma. "And why are you still not in that tub?" She demanded of Skye. "And what is going on in here!" She yelled at the ceiling.

Jemma and Skye exchanged a quick glance before both started at the same time, each voice vying for volume as well as screech value. Melinda prayed for a quick death…but not before she strangled the man that was a half an hour late.

xx

While Melinda had been dealing with the boys, the girls were on a mission. Skye had finally given up and resolved herself to at least soak in the tub. She had not yet committed to soap.

Jemma turned on the tap and tested the water temp making sure it was not going 'burn off my skin' or 'freeze me to death' as Skye would usually bellow when forced into the water. She sat on the side of the tub and poured a capful of lavender bath into the water, thought for a second then squeezed a healthy extra dollop in for good measure. She was aware of the research on lavender helping to soothe and calm but was pretty sure Skye would have to be dipped into a hundred gallon vat in order for it to have any effect.

"I hope you are undressing," she instructed without turning toward her little sister. "Momma should probably just burn that horrid clothing. It will probably never come clean." She shook her head and adjusted the water again .

"You think she really meant it?" Skye's voice sounded odd.

"Meant what?" Jemma repeated, swirling the water around and wondering of Gavin Paulson's brother would be at the ceremony this evening.

"Ya think she really put it there?" Skye sounded even stranger.

"Put what where?" Jemma sighed as she stopped the water and turned around.

"A handprint on my pigu." Skye explained, standing naked on top of the vanity over the sink with her back to the mirror. She was contorted into a weird shape trying to look at her bottom.

"Skye," Jemma inhaled, finger tips to her lips. "What are you doing?" She tried not to yell and startle her little sister to the floor.

"Tryna see, Jemma." She turned her back to her sister and wiggled a little. "Did she? Cuz that would be cool, like a taddoo or suntin."

"You need to get down Skye, before you hurt yourself." Jemma spoke softly as she stood and took a step toward her.

Skye shook her head and turned back to the mirror. "But ya dint answer me. Do I have momma's handprint on my butt? I needa know." She looked at her sister and bounced her hands, palms up at her sides.

"Okay, okay…" Jemma decided to pacify the child but really wanted to add a handprint of her own. "Stand very still and I'll just take a peek."

It really wasn't surprising to see Skye in her birthday suit, after all she'd been perfecting the art of streaking since she started walking. However, seeing her covered in everything she'd marched through during the day standing atop the bathroom vanity trying to see her bottom over her shoulder was just too much.

Jemma shook her head and let out a quick breath. She considered calling for Momma but she was taking care of whatever the boys were up to and it would probably cause Skye to jump from the sink directly into the bath and probably break some bone in the process. Of course it was ridiculous to even think there'd be a handprint on Skye's bottom. Momma would never.

"Okay, baobei just stand very still." Jemma blinked a few times then cringed. There was absolutely no handprint but the grass/mud streak Skye was so proud of did indeed swipe all the way from her thigh to the top of her bottom. Jemma shook her head at that weird description. What appeared to be just more dirt was in fact dried blood covering a rather nasty scratch in the center of the swipe."

"Oooo, Skye…" she cringed.

"It's there isn't it! It's there." Skye hopped up and down with glee. "I gotta see it. Show me where." Again the little girl attempted to twist the top of her body around to peer at the back of it. Skye never believed in impossibilities.

Jemma ignored the girl's glee. "You have a dreadful laceration. We are going to have to clean it and apply antiseptic. Oh, it has been so dirty for so long, you could already have the workings of a serious infection."

"A what?" Skye twisted to the left then tried again going right to see whatever Jemma was looking at behind her. "A lesser shun? Where? Is it alive?" She glanced at her sister with wide eyes. "Can we catch it? I don't feel it.' She brushed both sides of her bottom with the matching hand.

"Get into the tub, Skye. We will soak it clean and then use some of this…"

"Oh no…no, no, no," Skye turned and backed against the mirror. "That's the stuff Momma put on my knee when I fell off my bike. It makes fire under yer skin. You ain't no way puttin' that on my butt!" She shook her head.

Jemma stomped a foot on the floor. "Stop acting like a baby, Skye and get down off that sink before you break your leg." She demanded.

"Uh huh, no way," the smaller girl shook her head. "You ain't puttin' that on me either. Momma promised. I'm tellin' MOMMA!" She screeched over and over as she threw her hands over her ears to drown out her sister's negotiations.

Jemma held the small brown bottle in her fist and tried hopelessly to quiet her little sister as well as keep her from falling to the floor or slipping into the sink.

It was right about then Melinda slammed the door to the wall.

xx

"She's tryna set my butt on fire!" Skye bellowed, backing into her mother's legs with both hands protecting the target.

"She's going to have to stand in line," Melinda growled through her teeth as she spun the little girl around to face her and held out a hand to Jemma who dropped the small bottle into it.

Melinda glanced at the item before setting it down hard on the counter top and glaring at her older daughter.

"She's got a gash this long!" Jemma held her fingers a foot apart then pointed to Skye.

Once again Melinda spun her youngest and glanced at the wound. "It's a scratch. She'll live." She growled at no one in particular then spun Skye back again.

The little girl slapped her hands against her temples. "Yer makin' me dizzy, Momma."

"What were doing on that counter top?" She demanded.

Skye shrugged. "I was tryna see the print."

Melinda threw a 'what' face at Jemma who merely shrugged. "She thinks she has your hand print on her bum, like a tattoo."

"Wángbā dàn. Jīntiān huì gèng zāo ma?" Melinda growled through her teeth.

Skye spun herself around and faced her mother with one palm up. "Two dollars for sayin' bad words in other languages." She smiled.

Melinda sucked in a breath again through her teeth. "You, out!" She barked at Jemma and hiked a thumb over her shoulder. The girl nodded once and skirted around her mother quickly.

"You want handprints?" She snarled at Skye as she turned her to the tub and sent her there with three quick swats.

The little girl let out a dramatic wail but stepped into the warm water and plunked down into the sweet smelling bubbles. Melinda immediately regretted her action as Skye would more than likely carry on for hours. She dropped down on her knees and fished the washcloth from the water. She rubbed soap into it and lifted one of her baby's dirty legs and began scrubbing.

"You're scrubbin' my skin off." Skye growled, attempting to pull her limb back. "Ouch, that's my scrape. My arm's gonna come off." The water sloshed side to side as the little girl attempted to escape her mother's frantic scrubbing.

Melinda ignored the complaints and scrubbed lavender shampoo into the girl's hair. Then continued scrubbing until even the bubbles turned brown. She pulled the plug and glared at her daughter when she started to stand. "Stay right there," she ordered as she refilled the tub and added another dose of lavender. Hell, they both needed it.

"Mom," Trip's urgent voice had her turn and rise as Skye sunk beneath the suds. "It's not stopping and I really gotta go."

He stood holding the same rag to Fitz's nose. The younger boy stood still clad in only his boxers and stained t-shirt. He looked up with only his eyes.

"Go," she breathed, knowing Trip had to be at the venue within the hour.

He smiled at her and turned to leave. She grabbed his arm with one hand and Fitz with the other. "Good luck, baobei. We'll see you later."

He smiled again, gave a small wave and headed for the stairs. The young man had finished dressing. She beamed with pride just seeing him.

Walking Fitz to the sink she dropped the bloody rag into the waste basket, grabbed a washrag from the shelf and plunked him down on the closed toilet seat. She handed him a Kleenex and ran warm water over the rag, squeezing it out before gently cleaning his face. A tiny trickle of blood ran over his lip, caught by another Kleenex.

"Holy shit, Fitz what happened?" Skye wowed, resting her chin on the side of the tub while keeping her now clean self covered by bubbles.

"Skye!" Melinda threw her head back and bit her tongue before spewing even worse expletives.

The little girl took a deep breath and sunk under the water.

Melinda looked down at her son.

"It was just a stupid accident, mom." He said softly. "We're both to blame."

She shook her head. "Okay, I think you're good. Keep some Kleenex. We're going downstairs to get you some ice." She grimaced a little as she lifted his chin and inspected his face. "You are going to have two very black eyes, bao bao."

He shrugged as he stood and pulled a handful of tissues from the box. Melinda put an arm around his shoulders. This kid still had the worst luck. She directed him to the hall then stopped and turned back to the tub as Skye peeked over the edge.

"Out, dry and in your room by the time I get back, apparently you haven't had your share of handprints for the day."

Skye rolled her eyes and sunk back under the bubbles.

xx

Thirty minutes later Fitz was fully dressed, again, and under Jemma's watchful eye as he held an ice pack to his eyes. She ignored his complaint that the fluid in his eyes had frozen telling him it was not possible given the temperature of the ice.

Melinda sat in the large rocking chair in Skye's room with her sniffling baby curled into her lap. She rocked and hummed to the little girl clad only in a pair of light purple panties.

"Are there handprints?" She asked in a shaky voice.

Melinda laughed under her breath. "No baobei, not a one." She answered as she gently patted the little girl's bottom.

"Why not?" Skye sniffled.

"Because, I would never hurt you, Skye. I just want you to know there is a line you cannot cross. And today you have done nothing but dance up and down on that line just daring me to catch you slip." She kissed the top of the little girl's head.

The little girl did not respond, just sniffed a few more times and played with the small button on her mother's robe. Melinda waited. She knew there would be more, there always was. She kissed the top of her baby's head and rocked slowly.

"Do you still love me, Momma?" Skye sniffled against her mother's chest.

"Always," Melinda smiled as she rested her head against the soft cushion on the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

"Even though I'm incornerable?" She took in a shaky breath.

"Incorrigible," Melinda corrected with a smile as she continued to rock. She leaned forward and kissed Skye's sweet smelling hair. "And you aren't."

"Sister James says I am." Skye countered

"She doesn't know everything." Melinda assured her baby.

"Do you always love me?"

"Yep"

"Even today?"

"Every day"

"Even when you spank me?"

"All the time, every day, every minute, even when you're sleeping or sliding down Colander's hill or complaining about wearing a pretty dress, or walking that line you love to cross," Melinda smiled.

It was a ritual. Something they went through every time Skye was in trouble at school or at home, every time she was disciplined in any way. Even after all this time she still needed that reassurance and Melinda was always ready to give it.

"But ya just spanked me yesterday," Skye pouted.

"Mmm, hmm," Melinda agreed. "I couldn't find you for a whole hour after you rode your bike to the park without permission and that is why said bike is locked in the garage for one month."

"A month's a long time, Momma." Skye spoke in a tiny voice laced with remorse. Melinda nodded her agreement. "I might forget."

Melinda laughed through her nose. "No worries, baobei, I will remind you as many times as it takes."

Skye let out a frustrated huff and swiped a finger under her nose. Melinda pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed to the little girl.

"What about Monday?" She asked after a few silent seconds.

"Throwing rocks at Mr. Snyder's garbage cans," Melinda shook her head then smiled bending down to look into her little one's face. "But Sunday…you took the day off, huh?"

Skye giggled. "And made it all the way to bed time on Saturday before I called Fitz a big…"

Melinda laid a gentle finger over her little girl's lips and shook her head. "Don't want to make that mistake again." She warned softly, leaning back to hide her smile.

"Maybe you should give me back," Skye sighed dramatically. "I'm not such a good kid afterall."

Melinda let out a dramatic sigh of her own. "I suppose I could but I do love a challenge and it would break my heart into so many pieces I don't think anyone but you could ever fix it." She sighed again when Skye did not react. "But I suppose if that's what you want I would have to be sad for the rest of my life as long as you were happy."

Skye shook her head and snuggled closer. "I wouldn't be happy Momma," she pouted. "I won't ever leave you."

Melinda smiled and patted her bottom, softly humming an unnamed tune.

"You love me even though I didn't grow from you?" The little girl patted her fingers gently over her mother's heart.

Melinda closed her hand over it. "Right there, baobei, that's where you grew, right inside my heart." She lifted the little hand and kissed the tips of Skye's fingers. "I loved you before I looked into those little eyes and before I felt your sweet breath against my cheek." She felt the little girl smile against her.

"How momma? How could you love me before you knew about me?" Skye wondered.

She knew this was her baby's favorite part of their routine. "Because that's what momma's do. They know there is a baby waiting for them, a baby that they've been waiting for and I just knew it was you. I saved up all that love and kept it right here." She tapped the little hand that still lay over her heart. "I kept it locked in a special place because I knew I would need so very much of it for my baby and then…"

"Bam!" Skye spoke a little louder around a yawn.

Melinda chuckled. "Bam, there you were wrapped around me like a cute little monkey and all those places where I locked away all that love just opened up and I knew I found you and you found me. That love spilled right down on top of you and covered every inch of you. It splashed back over me and the twins and Daddy and Trip and we knew we couldn't be a family without you. Then daddy and I brought you home forever and ever."

Skye nodded against her mother's chest as her breathing grew steady and slow. Melinda hummed a lullaby before carrying her still much too little for a nine year old child to her bed and tucked a light blanket over her. She glanced at the clock.

An hour and a half nap for this little spitfire would do wonders for everyone.

xx

Melinda pulled the door closed softly and turned into the hall, crashing into an almost breathless Phil.

"I know, I know…I'm late but there was…never mind I'll explain later…gonna hop in the shower. I will be ready in no time." He gave her no chance to respond as he back peddled down the hall into their room.

The woman shook her head and followed dropping on to the chair in front of the vanity where this whole crazy afternoon started. She looked at the small framed photo at the back of the counter and smiled at the memory. Her babies were there frozen in a simple moment. Trip with his wide smile, sweet Jemma with her arms draped around his neck trying so hard to hide her new braces with her silly smile and Fitz leaning into his older brother apparently laughing at something someone had said or done. His smile, as always was infectious. The little boy's arms were wrapped around Skye's middle as he hugged her and she tangled her little fingers around his. Her baby also wore a bright smile almost looking away from the camera but caught just in time. She remembered the day. She remembered the moment. They were celebrating. Fitz just had the cast removed from his arm and if you looked very closely you could see the difference just around his elbow.

Where did the time go?

Melinda glanced at the clock, almost four. With any luck Skye would sleep just long enough for everyone to be dressed and ready. She'd get that little hellion into her dress and those sandals, make sure her hair was just perfect and they would be out the door with time to spare.

Wednesday…she stared at the LED letters that spelled out the day. It was Wednesday.

Wednesday's child is full of woe.

The old nursery rhyme played in her head. It was a Wednesday when she'd gotten that fateful call from the State Department and Wednesday when she and Phil climbed the stairs of the foundling home in London. Phil dragged Fitz into the cottage in Sheffield on a Wednesday and it was early Wednesday morning when Trip frantically knocked on their door begging for help. She had thought these thoughts before, not often but every time someone brought up how odd things happen or how weird some coincidences could be. It was a Wednesday morning she took Jemma and Fitz into that horrid clinic and lost her heart to a half naked half Asian little hellion. She and Phil had been married on a Saturday but their first date was most definitely on a Wednesday. It was the only day of the week Carmine's served Vodka Sauce and he was dying for her to try it.

Wednesday…she thought of another Wednesday, cold and dismal three weeks before Christmas. She sat in the waiting room watching the clock, hoping Phil would make it before the doctor was ready to see her. She wasn't sure she could hear what he had to say alone. She wanted to pace across the small area or even go out to the parking lot where the heat that fueled her fear could be dampened by the snowy day. She looked up as the door opened and a young smiling couple stepped inside before it closed. Phil squeezed in before it shut completely and was there next to her holding her hand, looking at her with that forever optimistic grin.

Forty minutes later he held her in the back seat of his car as she cried until there were no tears left. Nothing had ever hurt as much or left her so empty. He cried too. She never told him she knew but she felt his deep sobs and it only made her cry harder.

It was their third trip to the third doctor only to hear the same thing. This one was said to be the best and he smiled at their first meeting promising to do everything possible to help. On the second visit, after a battery of invasive, not so invasive and extremely embarrassing tests, he confirmed what the other two physicians had already told them. There was no way they would get pregnant. The only thing he offered that they didn't was in vetro fertilization. He explained it, showed them studies, histories, letters from other couples and pictures of happy healthy smiling babies.

Round one left Melinda constantly ill and almost unable to function. None of the three embryos succeeded. They tried again with four and once again were disappointed. Three times a charm, the doctor smiled and once again Melinda underwent the procedure implanting four Philtilized eggs. They crossed their fingers and prayed for a miracle.

That cold snowy day in December their miracle was gone. She could not do it again and Phil wouldn't let her go through the pain or the loss a fourth time. They cried for weeks then started life over, putting away their dreams of ballet classes and little league. For months Melinda could not bare to look at a child. She crossed the street if a woman with a stroller came close. She'd left the mall twice when mothers and their children became overwhelming. She politely refused invitations to baby showers and sent cards but did not visit friends or colleagues that had new infants. The couple even left a restaurant one evening when a family with a small child was seated at the next table. They did not return for months.

Phil respected his wife's need to grieve the loss of the child they would never have and did the same in his own way. He smiled at small kids in the park or store or subway, imagining himself holding that little hand or sharing that ice cream cone. He cried silent tears on his way to the office every morning and all the way home at night until she was well enough to return with him. It was an odd pain, not like when he lost his parents but somehow borne of the same grief. He lay awake a night watching her sleep and staring at the ceiling wondering how he could miss someone so much when they never really existed. There were days when just drawing a breath drove a pike through his heart.

It hurt for a very long time yet they had no choice but to keep on living and resigned themselves to the fact they would never be parents. They went through their paces until it just became normal, but he'd still find her sobbing in the middle of the night or when they pushed every bit of excess 'stuff' into the small room that might have become a nursery.

And then there was Wednesday in London and a frightened little girl with no one but Melinda May and Phil Coulson. She wasn't sure what would happen when she boarded the plan that evening. She wasn't even sure she would accept this responsibility, but one look at that frail, sad little person and her heart cracked. All of the pain she'd been holding on to dissolved in the feelings that poured out for this child.

And then Phil brought home that dirty little ragamuffin and he wormed his way so far into her heart she couldn't imagine life without him even with all that horrible language and dreadful history. Skye? Skye was her baby, the baby she prayed for, born of someone else but hers from the beginning. She sometimes imagined that one of those fertilized eggs made its way to wrong woman and somehow that woman knew this baby had to find her. A tiny quiet infant was left on the steps of a decades old church and there was her sweet child…fate brought them to the same place at the same time…on a Wednesday.

And Trip, her strong, handsome young man had been right under her nose for all those years, right across the hall and she'd never even seen him…not really. He was just a noisy little boy with a big smile and perfect manners. He accidentally joined the family but she would not change a thing. He even brought a bonus grandmother along for good measure.

THE FOLLOWING SECTION CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER. IF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE SKIP TO END OF SECTION AND ENJOY THE REST OF THE STORY

She felt Phil's hands on her shoulders before she knew he was there. She looked up at him in the mirror. He smiled that smile she loved and bent to kiss her. They parted slowly.

"So Fitz has two black eyes, Jemma's sweet on some boy called Travis and Skye's had her daily paddy whacks…so what else happened today?" He chuckled at her groan and pulled her to her feet, dropping his towel and wrapping her in a tight squeeze. Before she could respond he pulled her into a passionate kiss, bringing her to her toes.

He let her breathe for a beat. "The kids, she pointed toward the door…"

"Locked," he hummed as he swayed to some unheard tune and she allowed herself to sway in the same rhythm.

"You're late," she sighed against his bare chest as he slipped the robe off her shoulders letting it drop to the floor.

"Mmm hmm," he agreed sliding his hands feather light down her back and over her bottom as he brought her to his hips.

She smiled and wrapped her legs around him, looking him in the eye before returning the kiss he had offered a few seconds before.

They parted with a soft breath. "You know I'll have to do my make up again."

"Uh ha," he smiled slipping back to sit on the bed with her still straddling his midsection.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he around her back as she rocked slowly until he found her and she allowed him in. He felt the soft growl in her neck and matched it with one of his own as they filled each other's need once and then again with more enthusiasm. Slowly he eased them back until she lay on top of him and his hands pulled her bottom closer, rocking back into the place where they found each other. Again her soft moans brought him to fulfill her need as she released his.

Relaxing their taunt bodies she lay atop him as he continued his soft feathery massage and she softly placed breathy kisses on his neck and chest. He rolled to his side and smiled down at her twirling her hair around his finger before slipping down to place his own kisses on her neck. She ran her nails gently over his biceps and shoulders as he sunk lower and kissed her breasts one then the other sending a shiver through her body. He smiled at her reaction and repeated the action just a few inches lower. The shiver sent him lower as he pulled one into his lips and suckled until she felt her go limp beside him, releasing her he kissed the spot softly causing a slight whimper of anticipation as he moved to the opposite breast and pulled it into his mouth giving the first a soft massage with one hand. The other slid up and down her soft bottom until once again she went limp.

Again they rolled as one as he straddled her with one hand on either side of her shoulders. She smiled up at him as he bent and kissed her again, pressing his hips against her as he braced his weight on his arms. Again the rhythm of their love took over and he rocked his body gently against hers. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself from the mattress giving him unspoken permission to bring himself into her. He obliged without hesitation.

They fit together perfectly. His arms relaxed as he lowered himself and her slowly rocking, slowly loving her…inside and out. He pulled her closer as he rolled to the side and allowed her control finding her own rhythm and comfort. They stayed together, holding on to each other until neither had the energy to continue then eased apart, merely holding each other until their breath slowed.

He kissed her forehead. She kissed his chin.

"I love you, Melinda May." He spoke softly, smiling into her eyes. "Happy Wednesday."

"I know," she smiled back. "I love you, Phillip Coulson."

For a moment she rested her head on his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart. He drew small circles with the tips of his fingers on her back. She drew a long breath and kissed his cheek.

"It will still be Wednesday when we get home," she promised as she stood and headed for the bath. She turned back and smiled, "and Bernice is keeping the kids all night long

END OF SECTION

xx

A second shower and a quick make-up redo had Melinda ready to throw on the dress she had for the ceremony at the stadium. She smiled thinking about all the black dress functions she and Phil had attended over the years and all the boring speeches and wind bag politicians and strong armed lobbyists they'd survived. Tonight she pulled on a tasteful yet casual cotton item that accentuated her shape but would be comfortable and cool for the big event. She slipped on her sandals and dropped a lipstick into the small bag she carried.

Now to wrestle Skye into her clothing without another scene. She stopped at the little girl's door expecting to roust a grumpy little girl but found the room empty. She looked to the empty hanger on the back of the closet door and the just as empty shoe box on the floor then hurried down the stairs. Visions of Skye mangling the dress after burying the sandals somewhere in the backyard strangled the calm she had enjoyed the last two hours.

Phil was putting the finishing touches on Fitz's tie while explaining the steps in making the perfect Windsor Knot. The boy looked up at her showing off his accomplishment. She stifled the laugh at how much he looked like a very well dressed raccoon. Jemma was snapping pictures and turned to capture her mother at the foot of the stairs.

"Oh, Momma, you are so elegant," she smiled lowering the camera.

"Where is Skye?" Melinda let out the question imagining her youngest baracaded in a foxhole under the deck already refusing any and all negotiations to surrender and give herself up.

"I'm right here," the little girl stepped from her father's side fully dressed with her hair neatly combed. A long thin white ribbon that matched her dress hung from the braid on the back of her head. She turned to show it off. "Jemma fixed it for me." She announced.

Melinda let out a breath and smiled as she looked at her crew. "Then I think we're ready."

xx

The family sat together in the first row of the large stadium along with Bernice who had brought a small pack of tissues for everyone. She gave Fitz two after seeing his bruises and the slight trickle of light pink that seemed to require a lot of nose swiping. He sat between her and Phil since she had even more in her really big bag.

The graduates marched onto the stage to the ever popular theme of Pomp and Circumstance with the audience standing and snapping so many pictures that Jemma was sure no one was really watching. Phil was glad they had the seats right up front since neither Fitz nor Skye would be able to see a thing.

The principal made his opening remarks and everyone pledged the flag then stood as the band played the national anthem. A woman stood and read off the names of the students graduating with honors. Trip's name was almost the last one. Fitz cheered as loud as he could despite the pain it brought to his head. Skye whistled through her teeth and jumped up and down until Phil pulled her on to his lap wrapping his arms around her middle. That did not stop her whistling. The youngest Coulson squirmed a little and used the restroom twice during the speeches by the school director and some guy she didn't really know, but remembered to be on her best behavior.

"This is Trip's special night." Melinda reminded her as they stepped out of the car in the parking lot. "Let's make sure he has a good one." She nodded as she took her mother's hand and skipped toward their seats.

A man in uniform took the podium and cleared his throat. He read a list of names too. They were the students in the JROTC program. He talked about what they accomplished and how everyone should be proud of them. Everyone clapped.

He waited until they were done and continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, parents and families I have been given a great honor this evening. I'd like to tell you about a young man that came into my office four years ago asking for admittance into this program. He seemed a little unsure, but promised to dedicate himself to whatever it took. He talked about his great-grandfather and how he had a need to fill those very big shoes. You see he had a dream and he intended to reach it. This kid didn't have a great life. His father disappeared before he was two and his mother fell on hard times as a victim of her addiction. He lived in shelters, the back of a car and even the cellar of a condemned building before he was taken to the care of Children and Youth. He was there a year before his grandparents found him and his life began to change. He'd missed so much school he spent two years in the first grade, but did his best on both tries. When his grandfather passed away he made it his mission to care for his grandmother and follow her example in helping the community and keeping his faith. When that woman was stricken ill he found his way to the family he now calls his own and has continued to do his best in everything he dedicates himself to doing. This young man led this year's basketball team to the State Championship." The man paused as the crowd roared. He waited for them to finish then smiled and went on. "He has served his church and their mission in helping the homeless and downfallen while holding down a part time job and maintaining a four point O average. He has grown in statue and maturity in the last four years and has achieved the distinction of being the only cadet to receive every award the program has to offer, with the exception of those reserved for female cadets." A soft laughter rolled over the crowd.

Melinda wiped the tears that ran over her cheeks. Bernice followed suit as did Jemma, each using almost all of their tiny tissue packs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, parents, families and friends, it is my honor to present the Association of Military Colleges and Schools of the United States Award and the Association of the United States Army Award to Cadet Colonel Antoine Raymond Coulson-Triplett."

Trip stood in full dress uniform, including his Warrior Battalion Graduation Cord. He walked tall and proud to the podium and stood before the commander and offered a stiff salute. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fitz doing the same. He did not break form but a smile grew inside his head in the pride he had for that little guy. The commanding officer returned the salute read the standards of each award and handed Trip two plaques and two medals that included ribbons to be added to his already full chest. The man saluted and Trip returned it then turned to his father and saluted again.

The young man stood in place as the applause quieted. The officer who had spoken returned to his seat as the principal again stood at the mike. He smiled and cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentleman the valedictorian of our class Cadet Colonel Antoine Raymond Coulson-Triplett."

Again the family was on their feet. Melinda had finished the second pack of tissues. Bernice pulled off her glasses and rubbed the lenses clean with a flowery hankie. "I can't even see for the tears," her voice shook with nervous laughter. Fitz looked for a moment then took her hand in his. She smiled at the boy and patted his hand.

Trip moved to the podium and removed his cap setting it on the wooden surface. He looked out at the crowd and drew a deep breath.

"I promise to be brief," he assured the crowd who returned a soft chuckle. He cleared his throat and glanced at the neatly printed paper he had placed before him. Looking up again he gave a quick smile then quickly glanced at his family a few feet away. Skye flashed him a thumb's up and he almost chuckled at her quick wink.

"I'm here today to let all of you know that I did not get here on my own. None of us did. Some of you out there are parents and some are grandparents, brothers and sisters and probably a few aunts and uncles. All of you are family and all families are not the same. We all have a man and woman responsible for our creation, two people who came together for whatever reason and in that joining a spark was ignited and we came kicking and screaming into this world. Most of you still live and love those two people, your mom and your dad. The past few years have probably not been easy for any of you." He paused while the crowd laughed again then let out a shaky breath and continued.

"I said most of you, but not all of you and that is something that does not show no matter what color your skin or the shape of your eyes or the language you speak. I know beside myself there are three people here tonight that did not have the opportunity to be connected to that man and that woman who gave them life but for one reason or some tragedy were not able to share it. For a long time I thought that made me different, that it made me less but I was wrong. What it did was make me strong and determined to show the world I was just as good as kids who grew up in a normal home, than kids who grew up normal." He quickly glanced at Fitz who smiled back.

"I was lucky enough to have my grandparents and a neighbor who always had time to say hello or just to smile at a dopey kid hanging out on the front stoop because his grandma would beat the black off him if he dared go any farther. I was lucky enough to have that neighbor when my grandmother almost lost her life and I am lucky enough today to call that neighbor Dad. I am lucky enough to have that Dad and a Mom who have absolutely no DNA connection to me but have taught me that that is not all it takes to make a family.

They taught me that things aren't always easy and that sometimes monsters are real and they don't live under your bed but right out there on the street. But they also taught me it was okay to be afraid, just don't let that stop you. My little brother, who is the whitest little blue eyed kid you'll ever meet was born 'across the pond' as they say. He's got a great accent and the worst luck but he is the bravest kid I've ever met." Trip paused and took a breath to stop the catch in his voice. The crowd remained quiet in anticipation. The young man took a breath and continued.

"A few years back one of those monsters tried to take away my family and that skinny little guy saved my life. Our sister's as well. And he's a genius to boot. Lots of times he thinks he's not normal because he'd rather do calculus or take apart and put together just about any contraption you give him with nothing left over then have it running better than it did in the first place. He thinks he's different because he can't shoot a basket but can mentally put together all the physics it takes to teach the entire team how to do just that and do it better that every other team in the state. He thinks he's not normal because at fourteen he'll be a year and probably then some ahead of me in college. I tell him he doesn't need to be normal. He just needs to be himself and he needs to own that. To be the best version of himself because that's all any of us need to do.

In my home I've learned patience, flexibility, tolerance and a lot about diversity. My grandmother is the great granddaughter of a man who was brought to this country without his permission. He was sold into slavery and lived long enough to see his son be a free man. My great grandfather was a Howling Commando in the World War Two and helped bring the Third Rank to its knees. My grandfather served three tours in Vietnam before being wounded gave him an honorable discharge. My adopted grandfather grew up in China and came here as a young man. He too dealt with bigotry and prejudice, but he holds no grudge and has always held himself proud and strong. He plays golf in California. US Army retired. I'm not quite sure what my Chinese grandmother does. She doesn't talk about it much, but I know she does it well.

The point I am trying to make is that the color of your skin or the way you came into the world does not make you who you are. You do that. You do that by the choices you make and the people you love. The people that love you back. You decide what you believe and who you believe in, who you trust and who you protect. No one makes you do anything and the sooner you take responsibility for your own actions the sooner you will find yourself right where you need to be.

I've watched my parents deal with things I never imagined and things I didn't think happened to little white kids with Harry Potter accents or little Asian babies left on church steps. I've seen them risk everything to keep us…not just to keep us safe or clothed or fed or even healthy, just to keep us to fight for us and never give up on any of us.

I know it isn't always easy and sometimes we are a lot more trouble than they deserve, but they never give up. They hold us together because we are a family, a place where we belong, where we're all normal even when we think we aren't because in truth nobody is really normal. It's only something we think other people are.

Finally, what I'm trying to say is that family is important, essential to every kid everywhere. You need to hold on to it, make it the thing that you fight for not against, forget all the arguments and disagreements and hold on to that thing that gives you roots and allows you to soar. Then one day have the courage to create your own whether it be by that spark of life or because there's a little kid that really needs you as much as you need them.

To paraphrase American author Regina Bett, family is more than DNA. It's about people who care and take care of each other. It's more than who you ever were and much more than you can ever imagine you'll become."

The crowd roared with applause but none louder than the six people in the first row. It was matched only by the whoops and squeals when Trip's name was read as he received his diploma and it was announced he had been accepted at West Point for the fall term.

xx

After the graduates posed for dozens of pictures with family and friends small groups milled around the field while younger children raced across the yard lines under the setting sun. Fitz stood with one of Trip's medals in each hand still staring in awe at both. He didn't see his brother step behind him and wrap an arm around his head.

"Hey," Trip laughed as he stepped back and pointed to the felt boxes. "You'll take care of those for me, right?"

Fitz nodded as two other graduates slapped Trip on the back and laughed over something the younger boy paid no attention to as he stood. He looked up when the laughter grew louder. "Trip," he called after his brother who was a few feet away. The young man jutted his chin in response. Fitz smiled. "Thanks."

Trip shot a thumb's up before walking away.

"Trip," Melinda called after the young man who turned and walked back, kissing her softly on the cheek. She reached up and straightened his lapel. "One o'clock," she reminded him. He nodded before giving her a quick salute.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" He practiced then turned and let out an ooff as Skye plowed into his midsection.

Melinda shook her head as she walked back to Phil who was speaking with one of the other parents.

The little girl held her sandals conveniently held behind her back so Momma would not notice her bare feet and squeaked as he picked her up and spun her around. "You are the prettiest girl on the field, baby girl." He kissed her cheek and held her in front of him.

"I liked your talk, Trip. You said some good stuff. Did you know Momma never leaves handprints?" She shook her head as she wriggled to the ground and dashed off. He scrunched up his face as she ran to catch up to Fitz and Bernice who were chatting over the prized medals. She had planned on displaying them alongside her husband and his father's. Trip made her promise they'd be put in the bedroom he'd shared with his little brother. He'd already been squeezed half to death by his grandmother before she met a few church ladies who could not tell her enough about how handsome and wise her boy had turned out to be.

"Don't ask," Jemma shook her head. "Have a wonderful time tonight Trip. I'm so proud of you!" She smiled then stood on tiptoe as he bent down to let her kiss his cheek. The young girl shook her head. "Skye you put your shoes on before you step on something horrid!" She called as she hurried toward her little sister.

Phil stepped behind the young man and extended his hand. "That was quite a speech you gave kid." He paused and shook his head. "Guess you're not a kid anymore, son." He squeezed Trip's hand and gave a firm shake. "I think Fitz will be on cloud nine for a while. Thanks for always supporting the little guy."

"Hey, that's what brothers are for, aren't they?" He smiled back.

"Trip! Come on, let's go!" Nick called from across the field, waving the young man toward him.

Trip looked to him then back to Phil.

"Go, have a good time." Phil slapped the young man's back. "And no later…" he called after him.

"I know!" Trip smiled as he ran backward holding up one finger.

Phil smiled back and waved as Melinda slipped her arm around his. They watched as their eldest joined his friends and disappeared over the hill on the opposite side of the field. "He's a smart kid, Mel. He won't do anything to jeopardize his place at the Point."

She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "He won't do anything to antagonize his mother." She snorted.

"That too," he laughed as they walked toward their family.

"Quite a crew we've got there, Mrs. Coulson." Phil nodded toward them.

"More than they ever were and not half as much as they will ever be," she agreed then narrowed her brows as they were a few feet away.

"Skye! Where are your shoes?"

Phil scooped up his youngest in two long strides. "Who wantsa pizza?" He asked with a silly Italian accent. He smiled at the chorus of yeses. "Andiamo!" He commanded pointing toward the car.

Melinda shook her head as she stepped to his side and glared at Skye.

"My feet were hot!" the little girl whined. She watched as her mother's glare did not falter. "But they're not anymore." She dropped the slip on sandals to the ground and squirmed out of her father's embrace. "See?" Skye grinned as she shot her feet into the shoes and ran after her siblings before her mother could answer.

Melinda wrapped her arm around Phil's again as they strolled casually after their family. "That one," she nodded at the little girl chattering between her brother and sister. "She is going to…"

"Keep us young, Mel. She's going to keep us on our toes for a very long time."

Melinda let out a fluttery laugh as she watched her kids hover over their little sister and laugh over some inside kid nonsense. She and Phil strolled slowly behind them, watching as the stadium lights went out one at time.

"Something I forgot to ask with all the hoopala," Phil started. Melinda smiled and looked to him to continue. "Did I just imagine it or is there a Skye sized butt print on the bathroom mirror?" He scrunched his face with a disbelieving smile.

Letting out a half sigh/half chuckle, she dropped her head against his arm. "Long story…"

"Aren't they all?" He snorted back.

They moved along as others passed merely enjoying the cool breeze and the company. Melinda looked ahead at the sound of Fitz's laughter then tripped over something small and white, only her hold on Phil's arm kept her steady. She looked to see what was on the path and quickly recognized the not so white sandals.

"SKYE!"