…15 years later
Myka locked up the front door of her family's bookstore, after the last customer had left for the evening. She sighed as she made her way back around the checkout counter to continue reading the manuscript that she had abandoned there.
"You know this story is absolutely fallacious in every way possible, right?" A voice came from behind the brunette making her jump a bit in startle.
"Helena, what did I say about you and skulking, and also, about reading my clients' writings? You know I have…"
"Fiduciary responsibilities to adhere to, such as; client/publicist confidentiality, blah, blah, blah. I know Mom," droned a curly haired girl with jet black hair, about the age of twelve.
Myka scrunched her face and side glanced her eldest child, who had stilled herself at her mother's side, behind the desk. Helena merely blinked towards her and smirked.
Myka let a smirk of her own slip before she asked, "So you think this novel is equally ridiculous too, huh?"
"Borderline absurdity," the girl simply stated.
Myka let out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
The girl's face broke out into a grin.
Suddenly two younger boys came running through the store towards them. They both had wooden swords that they were noisily clanging together in a duel. "You'll never get me Captain Hook!" the oldest one growled at the other.
"I'm not Captain Hook! I told you! I'm D'Artagnan!" Yelled the younger.
"Mom, Dad says supper's ready!" The eldest boy called to Myka; not taking his eyes off of his little brother, while striking his sword towards him. The younger, jumped out of its way.
Myka called back to them. "Peter Pan! D'Artagnan! If there is no victor in thirty seconds, Helena and I get to commentate the end of this duel."
In hearing this, the boys intensified their efforts. But thirty seconds soon passed where Myka began, "and Peter Pan thrusts his sword to his opponent's chest." The oldest boy instantaneously fell into slow motion, as he obeyed his mother's commentary.
"But D'Artagnan is younger and faster, so he easily dodges the attack," Helena added, where the youngest boy slowly bent out of the way of his brother's sword.
"Unfortunately D'Artagnan looses his balance," Myka continued, "And falls to the ground in his efforts of dodging the weapon." The young boy began falling like molasses to the floor, in a very dramatic way.
Helena then takes over, "so Pan takes his advantage and strikes down towards his fallen opponent." The older boy pulled the sword up over his brother's body and slowly brought it down, intending on delivering the final blow.
"But just as the sword is coming down to our poor D'Artagnan on the floor, he finds the speed and strength to thrust his sword up in a, thunderous and heroic, war cry," Myka added. Her youngest then yells out as he too, slowly thrusts his sword up to his brother's chest. They both slide their blades under the other's arm, as if they had just stabbed each other at the same time. They then proceed in falling, in slow motion, to the ground while gasping and hollering, in a grand performance of their fake deaths. It was the cheesiest way one could ever imagine seeing two boys perish.
Once they had fallen to a heap on the floor and ceased their twitching and gasping, Myka spoke up, "Okay my little ghosts; Up for dinner and don't forget to wash your hands." The two boys bounced back up to their feet and ran off. Myka then looked to her daughter who was still standing beside her. "You think you can go make sure that those two don't whip each other with my hand towels up there?"
"Only if you let me read that new chapter you got today?"
"What chapter?"
"Don't play innocent with me Mother, I know that new client of yours dropped it off today."
Myka clenched her jaw and scratched at her neck in an act of virtuousness, "I have no idea what you're talking about," she went bug-eyed while pulling her neck to the side.
Helena laughed while she started off after her younger brothers, "Just make sure you keep the manuscript out tonight before you and dad go to bed," The girl smiled while not turning to look at her mother.
Myka chuckled towards her cheeky daughter whilst shaking her head. "But you're in bed by midnight!" The brunette called out to the back of her daughter's disappearing form; witnessing it vanish into the shelves of the store.
"You know she gets that from you," a man said from behind her while he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back into a hug.
"No," Myka relaxed into her husband's embrace, "That one is absolutely a Wells trait," she smiled in memory of her daughter's namesake, and the many qualities that niece and aunt shared.
He hummed in agreement while resting his chin to the side of his wife's head. "So, are you hungry?"
"Yeah, I could eat," Myka smiled.
In hearing that, he quickly ripped his head away from her in utter shock and offence, "Could eat!" He repeated dramatically. "You can not just nonchalantly accept to eat 'Charles Wells's Famous Duck and Rice Dinner'! People cross the land to get just one scrap of leftovers of my savory, tastefully, delicious, appetizing, mouth-watering…" Myka quickly kissed Charles to shut him up. "Speaking of delicious," he muttered into her lips.
Myka burst out into laughter, "No!" she pushed him away, "Go get the kids to the table, I'll be right there."
He beamed at her while back stepping away, "Fine! But remember, I am a jelly fish!" he hollered out while turning around and disappearing into the many bookshelves that they had to pass in order to get upstairs.
Myka covered her face with her hand in response to his antics, trying to conceal her grin. She then sighed before dropping her gaze back to the fiction story in front of her. Once she had finished reading the last of the excerpt, and making an official decision, not to publish the story or carry on with that particular author, she slowly started to meander into the isles of the store.
Her feet took her deep into the towering shelves; they always lead her to the same spot. She dragged her hands across the spines of the books as she walked, before finally stopping at the spot where she stood at so many times before. She could swear that there were foot imprints left by her in the carpet at that spot beneath her feet. She reached out to the shelf that she had always visited, sliding out a navy blue book with gold writing upon the spine. It read 'The Chronicles of Captain McPherson'. There were nine installments of the series. Myka pulled out book number one of the chronicles and ran her fingers across the author's name above the title. 'Helena Wells' is what her digits skimmed along. Myka smiled, like she had all the times before, while holding Helena's works. It was always the same smile too; a proud but sad one. The brunette then allowed her hand to fall further down the book to her own name, 'Bering Publications'. Helena's books were Myka's first, of many, which her small company had published. The pride she had for the series were for the both of them; Helena and her. She held the books so dear to her heart.
Myka opened the novel and started to read her dear love's words. She knew them all so well by this point, seeing that Myka was the editor of all her books, refusing to let anyone else touch her writings. But that never stopped her from rereading the text. She read until her sight blurred do to the tears in her welled up eyes. Some days she could go pages until they came, others, she was already tearing at just the sight of the spine of one of her books, still tucked away on the shelf. Today, however, she made it through a paragraph before she kissed Helena's words on the page and gently shut the book; holding it to her heart in a loving embrace.
Myka closed her eyes and thought of her life. She smiled when thinking on her family. She loved them all dearly, Charles made her happy and her children were all wonderful in their own separate ways. But there was still a part of her that belonged to her dear lost Helena. She was truly the love of her life and no one could ever replace her. Helena saved her. She gave Myka hope and love, and with that Myka gave her heart away to the woman, which would forever be with her, even in death.
Myka finally found the courage to slide the book back onto the shelf. Before releasing the spine she sighed at the sight of the old tattered lace that still adorned her wrist. It was the ribbon that bound her to Helena. It was so worn that Myka had to sew it up thrice after it had ripped apart. But as she held her wrist out with the book still in hand, she felt as if Helena's essence, captured in her words, were tied tight on the other side of the lace.
She remained still for a moment longer, savoring the feeling, before she then released the spine and tucked it all the way in. She had a loving family awaiting her and didn't want to keep them any longer. She let out a small chuckle when thinking on how Charles was probably smacking the boys' hands away from the food already set on the table. With that thought, she left for her family, ready to finish up another lovely day with them around the dinner table, sharing in each others company.
Before Myka switched off the lights in the store to go upstairs, she turned towards the many book shelves in the room and whispered, "Thank you Helena," and with that she flicked off the lights and ascended the stairs with a smile of true contentment on her face.