So the story behind this: Some people on my twitter feed were talking about the idea, so it sparked a starting paragraph which eventually turned into this drabble. Shoutout to Kenna for being the biggest Delly fan and for Joy for putting up with me whenever I write. Reviews are lovely - L xo
Her dark curls swing from side to side as she skips ahead of us down the lane, right hand clutching tight the picture her father helped her draw this morning. The boy sits on my hip, his arms around my neck, clinging to me tight. Unlike his sister, who is both curious and fearless, he is reserved and anxious, hardly ever letting go of me or his father if possible. When she runs into the lake, diving and splashing, he dips his toe in, just in case.
She waits for me at the junction where the path leading to the Victor's Village joins with another path toward town. We then move away from town, heading up to what used to be the Seam, but is now just any other neighbourhood in District Twelve. Poverty has basically vanished; whilst some families are better off than others, everyone has enough to feed themselves and their family with a little bit to spare. No children need resort to hunting illegally for food anymore, thank god.
Delly is on the front porch already with her son, who sits quietly by her side on the step. He's two years older than Willow and Delly's youngest, although she definitely is in charge when it comes to what they do. Her son has inherited her sweet disposition and willing nature; Willow has my spirit and Peeta's curiosity but also his patience.
She starts running as she approaches the porch and greets Delly with a hug and Abel with a smile. Ruben clings to me until he realises where we are and pokes his head out from my shoulder, a small smile on his lips. He's cautious with new people just as I am, but he knows Delly and opens up more for her than others. Willow and Abel are already running in front of the house playing some sort of game, so I take a seat next to Delly. She knows Ruben won't come over to her like Willow but waves and he gives her a small wave back, untangling himself from me to sit on my lap. He sucks his thumb, a bad habit I've told Peeta countless times we need to stop, but he just smiles and ruffles his hair.
It is late spring now, and the blossom has fallen away to be replaced with bright green leaves, the flowers providing a rainbow of colours. Peeta's been painting them lately, Willow attempting to imitate her father sometimes as well. Ruben and I are usually happy to watch quietly whilst I read him a story.
"Where are the others?" I ask Delly. Part of Abel's ability to cope so well with Willow is his two older sisters, Marlow and Charlotte.
"Marlow's in town with some friends I think. And Charlotte's upstairs reading, but she'll be down soon," Delly smiles. I had forgotten that Marlow was now 13, old enough to go into town with her friends certainly. Soon she'd be interested in boys which terrifies me – I remember holding her at just two days old.
Charlotte comes down not too long afterward. Aged 11 she had decided she's too old to run around with Willow and Abel, and instead comes and sits beside myself and her mother. She's inherited her mother's bubbly personality and talks away about school and a trip she's going on soon, to District 10. It doesn't take long for Ruben to transfer from my lap to hers; Charlotte, besides myself and Peeta, is Ruben's favourite person and he's been known to fall asleep in her lap before.
Willow and Abel eventually tire and come and join us on the porch. Delly brings out cookies and drinks, which is met with delight. Afterward Willow leans against me, tired, which isn't surprising. We were up early and out in the woods this morning whilst I taught her some basic snare skills. Even though she doesn't need to, she's fascinated by hunting and pesters me to teach her everything I know. I refused for a while, but she's just a stubborn as I am and eventually I caved, which of course made Peeta laugh. Before my children I hardly ever gave in to anyone, but there's something about my daughter's bright, inquisitive blue eyes and my son's delicate nature that I can't help but give in to them. I don't spoil them though; that's their father's job through and through.
Her hair is messy from running around so I undo it and braid it back up again. Her hair is more difficult to style than mine – whilst the inherited my dark colour it's her father's curls that fall down her back, although much looser. Ruben's is light blonde, although will probably darken with age, with just a hint of a wave running through it. He is now giggling and laughing, playing some sort of game with Charlotte. Abel is up and about again, kicking a ball around the garden. He tries to get Willow to get up and play with him again but she adamantly refuses, and Abel knows that when Willow says no, she won't budge.
It's getting late now and I think that Delly's husband must be getting home soon. He works in the mines, although they're nothing like they used to be. Much better conditions, better hours and better pay have made the work the thriving industry of District Twelve. Of course Peeta owns the town bakery and I occasionally help out when it's busy and I Delly has a day off to look after Ruben.
Marlow comes back from town sometime late in the afternoon accompanied by Peeta. Willow sees him first, walking up the path, and immediately jumps up and sprints over to him. Peeta pretends to not notice her until the last second, and then picks her up, spinning her around and resting her against his hip, carrying her back up to us. At seven, she is still relatively small for her age but then so am I, and it's hard for me to carry her anymore but Peeta still manages with relative ease.
Halfway up, Willow spots Abel playing a ball game with some other boys a few houses up the road and insists on being let down to go play with them. She's much smaller than the rest of them and I know Peeta's worrying; I won't lie, a part of me is too. But Willow, for all her curiosity and occasional recklessness, is tough and can handle a few nine year old boys for sure.
Charlotte points Peeta a few metres away to Ruben, who squeals and toddles over to his father who easily scoops him up and settles him on his lap as he sits next to me. Delly, who's been in the kitchen, comes back outside beaming, "Peeta! What are you doing here?"
"I was just about to ask myself the same question," I mutter under my breath, in a pretend annoyed voice.
Peeta smirks at me for a second before answering, "Well Marlow popped in for a chat when she was with her friends and Katniss told me she was coming over earlier, so I decided to leave the bakery early and come over, if that's okay."
"Peeta, of course it's okay. You can stay for dinner if you want!" She smiles warmly, going back to the kitchen to presumably start making dinner, for which I'm glad. It gives Peeta no time to argue out of politeness. Marlow follows her mother inside and Charlotte is once again distracted by Ruben asking to play another game. I lean my head on Peeta's shoulder and he takes my hand.
"Hey," I whisper in his ear and he chuckles. It's become a kind of joke between us that ever since Willow was born, they've taken up so much of our time and attention we hardly ever even say hi when reunited after Peeta's been at the bakery all day. We sit quietly, just enjoying each other's quiet company. Something we had so much of before seems so scarce since we had Willow and Ruben, and now they're distracted by Delly's children I let myself relax for once.
Not that I mind it, of course. The early mornings, the being busy all the time, constantly entertaining one or both of my children. Now Willow is in school it's slightly easier, but I like having something to do, a purpose once again. Before there wasn't enough to do, too many quiet moments, too much silence. I'm not sure what I'll do when Ruben goes and I have the house to myself during the day again. Delly's suggested we could do things in town that they run on her days off from working part time in the shop. Maybe I will.
But I try not to think about any of that. Thinking about the future and the silences, and even worse, the questions that I know will start soon, will all just get on top of me. They've started already, although harmless for now. Why are you and daddy in one of the pictures in our history book? And why do you look so fancy? She knows bits and pieces and soon he will too. And it terrifies me still.
Peeta must sense me tensing because I feel his hand squeezing mine and his forehead against my temple. Whispering his usual things, words repeated so many times over the last twenty or so years. But they work, and I come back, slowly.
Not soon enough though. When I focus in on the world in front of me, Willow is standing there holding a ball, Abel stood not far behind, staring. She looks far too worried for her age, but it's a look that comes with her mama's nightmares and here daddy's flashbacks.
"Mama what's wrong?"
"Nothing, little duck, I promise," I say, although not very convincingly. It doesn't work, and Willow drops her ball and comes over, throwing her arms around my neck. I hold my daughter close, so sorry that I have to put her through this and so thankful I have her all the same. It's hard to comprehend, holding her in my arms, hearing my son's laughter not too far away that I didn't want them for so long. But I have them now. And that's what matters.
"It'll be okay Mama," she whispers in my ear, pulling away and giving me a big smile. She sees so much good in the world, like her father, forever the optimist. I nod, giving her a small smile in return.
"Why don't you go see if Aunty Delly needs any help making dinner?" I suggest. Even though neither Peeta nor I are related to Delly, she and Peeta could pass for being relatives and we spend so much time here that they have become practically family. She nods enthusiastically and runs inside, her curls bouncing against her back, the sound of my sons giggle chiming through the air.