Episode 8- PotLatch
"Is there anything you love, so much, you'd protect it, no matter the cost, the damage it did to you?" "Yeah, a child." What Abel does to Tara
5:19 am. Abel is wailing. Tara doesn't even need the baby monitor to hear him. His vocal lungs are being used to their full capacity. Sighing, she rolls out of bed and pads down the hallway, rubbing her sore eyes. She blinks and looks down at Abel. He falls silent at the sight of her before breaking out in a huge, gummy smile, waving his hands.
"Hi sweetheart." She says, softening instantly, reaching into the crib and picking him up. "Good morning, are you hungry? Yeah, I bet you are." She coos, walking with him to the kitchen and preparing a bottle. She moves about the kitchen easily, cradling Abel and making a bottle and a pot of coffee at the same time.
He's quiet in her arms as she moves around the kitchen, still half asleep. She grabs the bottle when it's ready, guiding it to his mouth and letting him hold it so she can pour herself a cup of coffee. She sips it and looks down at him. He's watching her, wide eyed.
As she always does when she sees his bright blue eyes and wrinkled nose, rosebud lips and smooth skin, she smiles until her cheeks hurt. A sense of love so strong rises up and she holds him a little closer, leaning down to kiss his forehead. She searches for Jax in his features, marveling how he changes each day.
She doesn't search for herself. She knows there is no chance, not possible in any way. But sometimes she thinks her sheer force of will somehow magically make her Abel's real mother. That's how it feels in her heart at least. She loves and hurts just as much as any true mother.
He fusses and she shifts him, settling him back down quickly. She smiles, thinking about how no more than a couple months ago, his cries would have made her panic, worrying about if she's a bad mom, making all the wrong choices. Now she just goes with it, trusts that she'll be ok.
She is the best choice for Abel, she knows that. Maybe even better than Jax, who loves his son but doesn't know how to raise a baby amidst the chaos that is his life. Certainly better than Gemma, who would turn Abel into Clay at the first possible chance. She protects him from the path that would destroy him and destroy her as well.
There's a chance he will still turn into Jax. Nature over nurture. His genes are his genes and no amount of love will change that. But she is willing to let him hurt her. She will love him until the end of time, because he is her son. No matter what he will do, he will always be her child.
He finishes his bottle and she finishes her coffee. Lifting him up and smiling at him, she takes a second to check over him, mom mode blurring with doctor mode. Then she kisses his belly and cuddles him. He smells like her baby, her son, her perfect boy.
She walks back to the bedroom, setting him down by Jax. Abel is waving his hands and kicking his legs. Tara lies on her side, watching him in amusement. After awhile, his squirrelly movements and little grunts and coos wakes up Jax, who rolls over and blinks, narrowly missing Abel's fist with his nose.
"Good morning my boy." He says, kissing his head. "And good morning my love." He says and when he looks up at her, a flutter in heart makes her realize Abel isn't the only one her protective heart loves more than anything.
"A Harley and a Kutte." Baby Jax
"Jackson!" Gemma yells, standing in the kitchen, trying to make supper. She listens for the sound of her son to run into the kitchen. Soon enough, he does, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. His blond head appears and quickly after, his big blue eyes are trained on her.
"What mama?" He asks, eyeing the treats on the counter hopefully.
"It's almost Christmas." Gemma tells him, giving him a small piece of candy. "Daddy and I are going to get you presents. What would you like?" Eagerly, Jax takes the candy and pops it into his mouth.
"I wan' a 'arwee!" He says loudly and Gemma takes a moment to decipher the toddler babble.
"You want a Harley?" She guesses and Jax nods, beaming. "Like what your daddy has?"
"Like Daddy and Unca Pinwee and Unca Otto and Unca Walwee." Jax rambles, listing off club members. Gemma smiles, kissing his head.
"And what else?" She asks.
"Um, a helicopter." He says, picking up a crayon and a piece of paper, scribbling on it. "And a lotta cars." He says thoughtfully. "And a kutte." He announces, struggling to pronounce it. Gemma raises an eyebrow.
"A kutte?" She says, surprised.
"Yeah." Jax says, focused on his art. "Daddy loves his." is his explanation. Gemma smiles and waits for John to come home. When he does, she kisses his cheek and serves him supper.
"Guess what your three year old asked for Christmas today." Gemma informs him and he puts down his beer and raises his eyebrow.
"Should I be worried?" He jokes and she smiles.
"He wants a 'arewee'." She says, pronouncing it like Jax had. "And a kutte." John's eyebrows rise.
"He really asked for that?" He asks, surprised.
"Yes." She confirms proudly and John laughs, looking at Jax play on the rug in the living room. "He's your son."
"My pride and joy." He says quietly, getting up and going to lie by Jax on the floor, playing with the cars. Gemma watches them, satisfied.
(-)
"Jackson Nathaniel Teller!" Gemma yells out the back door and moments later, the small figure of Jax crashes through the door, breathing heavily in his heavy winter coat. "I'm going shopping. You better tell me what you want for Christmas." She says pointedly.
"Um, a new bike, a baseball glove, a basketball hoop, and a Harley like dad's." He rattles off. "Can I go play now?" He asks impatiently.
"Sure, go." She says, smiling. He disappears back out the door. She turns to look at John, who is carefully reading over documents.
"I'm glad nothing's changed on his wish list." John says, amused. "No kutte this year though."
"I think that comes implied with the territory of him getting a Harley like his father's." Gemma says, kissing his cheek. "And you're in charge of getting him that, understand?"
"I'll find a mini one somewhere." He tells her and she rolls her eyes, heading out the door.
"Watch him!" She yells and John watches through the window as Jax and Opie play in the backyard.
(-)
"Jax, come here, sit." Gemma commands and Jax stops trying to sneak out the front door, sighing and resigning himself to sit at the counter. Gemma hands him a pencil and piece of paper. "Write your Christmas list."
"Mom, I'm ten now." He whines. "I don't need a Christmas list!"
"Fine, I'll just get you whatever I pick out." Gemma deadpans and he frowns, scribbling stuff down.
"Can I leave now?" He begs and Gemma sighs, waving a hand.
"Watch Tommy as the park!" She yells as the door slams. Sighing, she picks up the list and reads it over.
TV for my room, video games, boxing gloves, Nike shoes, a dirt bike, new skateboard, tool kit, and a leather jacket.
Oh, and a bike like dad's.
Smiling, Gemma folds up the list and tucks it into her pocket. She has a feeling that this will be something she treasures for the rest of her life.
Lyla with Ken and Ellie
"Hey, thanks for coming over." Opie says gruffly.
"Of course, what's up?" Lyla asks, concerned.
"Club shit." Opie mutters and she nods, knowing not to push it. "I just don't have anyone to watch Ken and Ellie, I'm sorry to do this to you, but there's no one else." He says and she shakes her head.
"I don't mind at all." She promises, setting Piper down and touching Opie's arm. "Be safe, ok?" He looks into her concerned eyes and nods. She smiles and kisses his cheek.
"Kids, behave!" Opie yells then slams the door. Seconds later, the bike and its noise disappear down the street. Lyla stands in the living room, observing Ken and Ellie, Piper clinging to her leg.
"So, what do you guys wanna do?" She asks and they're both quiet, looking at her then each other.
"Ken has homework." Ellie announces.
"I do not." Ken says, shooting her a look.
"Yes you do and dad said you had to get it done." Ellie responds bossily, folding her arms.
"You have homework too!" He says heatedly.
"Ok, ok, ok." Lyla says, hushing to two of them. "How about we go into the kitchen, we all do homework, and I'll make you a snack plate?" She suggests and they look suspicious.
"What's a snack plate?" Ken asks with narrowed eyes. Lyla smiles, gesturing for them to grab the backpacks and sit at the kitchen table.
"When I was little, I liked too many snacks, I could never make up my mind about what I wanted." Lyla explains, nudging Ken with her toe when he begins to drag his feet. "So I would put all the snacks I wanted on a plate. That way I could have a bunch of different snacks, instead of just one."
"So we're just gonna have some snacks on a plate?" Ellie asks, sounding unenthusiastic about this prospect.
"There's a special twist to it, you just don't know it yet." She promises, setting Piper at the table with crayons and paper. He eagerly begins to scribble. "Now, what kind of snacks do you like?"
"Meat and crackers." Ken says instantly.
"Chips." Ellie responds.
"How about some fruit?" Lyla suggests and they both nod. "Ok, start your homework and I'll start the snack plate, ok?" They nod, leaning over their papers and picking up pencils.
"Um, Lyla?" Ken asks, as she's cutting up apples. "Do you know how to spell again?" She turns and smiles.
"Sure, but why don't you try to spell it?" She asks and he frowns, throwing his pencil down.
"I can't, I'm too stupid, I can't figure it out." He says, frustrated. Lyla sets the knife down and walks over.
"What's hard about it?" She asks soothingly.
"He gets all his A's and I's mixed up." Ellie informs her.
"Oh, that's easy." Lyla says, waving a hand. "We just need to make up a clever trick to remember it by."
"Like what?" Ken asks and she thinks about it for a second.
"What does again start with?" She asks.
"A." Ken says quickly.
"Ok and again means that something will happen a second time." Lyla says and Ken blinks, not sure where this is leading. "So if again starts with an A, a second A comes… Again." She explains.
"A-G-A-I-N." Ken spells slowly and she grins, holding her hand up for a high five. Grinning widely, he gives her one.
"See, super easy." She remarks, getting up and going back to cutting up the apples. "And now you'll always know how to spell again!"
"Can you do that for stuff in history?" Ellie asks, looking up at her hopefully and Lyla nods.
"Like what?" She questions, arranging the apples and opening the fridge door to grab grapes.
"Like I can't remember the names of the Great Lakes." Ellie says and Lyla smiles, placing the grapes on the plate.
"That's easy. There's a word that has all the first letters of the lakes." She tells Ellie. "It's homes."
"Homes?" Ellie asks and Lyla nods.
"Spell out homes on your paper." She instructs and Ellie writes the five letters and looks up at her expectantly. "Ok, now what are the great lakes you know?" She asks and Ellie leans over her paper.
"Superior, Michigan, Erie…" She mutters then stares at the H and the O. Lyla waits patiently, taking crackers out of the sleeve. "Huron!" She says suddenly, filling the H in.
"Good, good, all you have left is the O." Lyla praises.
"Um…" Ellie squeezes her eyes shut like she's trying to pry the answer from her brain. "Ontario!" She cries and Lyla claps.
"There you go, see all five lakes. All you have to do is remember homes and then you at least have the first letter of all the lakes." She tells Ellie, who looks impressed with the new trick. "Ok, who wants to see the finished snack plate?" She offers and Ken looks up, excited.
"Me!" He says, hopping off his chair and hurrying over. The three kids crowd around it eagerly, making noises of amazement when they figure out what the patterns make. The cheese makes a sunset, the crackers are trees, the meat is the ground, and the fruits make up the sky and birds in it.
"This is so cool!" Ellie says, looking at it in awe.
"If you all have your homework done, you can take it into the living room and eat it while you watch TV." She offers and Ken and Ellie scramble to give her their homework. She carries it into the living room then picks up the papers and inspects them.
"Can we watch Spongebob?" Ken asks and she nods, checking his spelling words over.
"How do you spell again?" She asks, handing him the remote.
"A-G-A-I-N!" He rattles off and she nods. Smiling, he turns the TV on and they settle in to watch the cartoon. Lyla, smiling, cleans up the kitchen and puts the homework neatly back in the backpacks, hanging them on the hooks beside the door. Then she stands in the doorway to the living room.
Ken and Piper are sitting next to each other, Piper's blond head leaning against Ken's arm. Ellie is curled up in the chair, watching tv and eating fruit. Smiling, Lyla sits down next to Piper. As the show wears on, Piper crawls into her lap and falls asleep. She begins to rub Ken's back in slow circles, itching it then rubbing it until he too is asleep.
Opie walks in, opening his mouth to say something but she hushes him, gesturing to the kids. He quiets, looking around at the clean kitchen, the neat backpacks, and three sleeping children. He smiles as Ken and Ellie shift in their sleep. Lyla reaches over and keeps rubbing Ken's back.
"How were they?" He whispers and she smiles.
"Good. Practiced spelling with Kenny and geography with Ellie. Made some snakes for them and watched some TV." She says and he nods, leaning down and picking up Ellie easily without her waking up. He disappears into her bedroom then does the same for Ken.
"You could stay here if you'd like." He offers quietly as she arranges Piper on the couch, tucking him in.
"Ok." She agrees, smiling.
3 women, 3 stories
Rose
Gemma creeps through the house, nervously looking left and right. She's on the lookout for her mother, who had left for book club and a sewing circle with the express order that Gemma be a good girl, stay in the house, and not bother her father. Gemma had broken all those rules but one.
The sun was so bright, shining through her bedroom window. Gemma had tried to be satisfied lying on the floor in the pool of warmth, but the trees looked so inviting, so green, with their sturdy branches and gentle swaying in the breeze. She had promised herself that she was only going to climb one, that she would just do one, and then come right back inside.
It is easy to sneak out when her father is watching her. All she has to do is tiptoe past the study where he writes his sermons, down the hallway, and out the door to the backyard. She stands in the glorious sunlight, letting her fair skin soak it up then goes dashing for the trees.
The rough bark gives her easy purchase for her feet and hands. She swings herself onto the lowest branch then reaches for the next one. She loves climbing the trees, seeing how high she can get, surveying not just their backyard but also the whole neighborhood, relishing her high vantage point. Breathless, she pulls herself higher than she's ever gone.
If this is her only tree, she might as well try her hardest, she rationalizes. She clings to the trunk when the breeze makes it sway, then determinedly climbs into the highest branches. She pauses to catch her breath, looking around in awe at how she can see everything from her. Then she reaches for the next branch, wondering if it will hold her weight.
It doesn't. With a loud snap, it breaks in her hands, and she is suddenly tumbling downward, too sudden for her to even scream. She tries to find something to slow her descent, wildly grasping for anything. Her hands catch a thin branch and she abruptly stops, her shoulders feeling like they're about to get ripped from their sockets. With a cry of pain, she automatically lets go.
She tumbles through the lower branches and lands hard on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. For a couple seconds, things are black, and then she opens her eyes, gasping. The branches above her are moving in the breeze, as though Gemma hadn't gone crashing through them moments before. She blinks the tears away, not wanting to move.
Finally, she sits up. She catalogs her injuries briefly, trying to figure out if she's seriously injured. She's covered in scratches, but none are deep. She'll likely have bruises but those will fade over time. Her back is stiff but she can still move all her fingers and toes, so she knows she'll be all right.
The only problem is her dress. A light blue flowery print, it was one of Rose's favorites. Now, it has rips and tears everywhere. This isn't a stain that Gemma can hide, this is a ruined dress, and her mother will be furious with her.
Panicked, Gemma runs inside, past the study, into her bedroom, pulling the dress off and putting new clothes on, ones that hide the damage from her fall. She stares at the dress, unsure of what to do now. There's only one thing she can think of- dispose of the dress and lie to Rose when she asks why Gemma isn't wearing that blue dress anymore.
She is attempting to put the dress in the garbage bins when her mother pulls back up to the house. Gemma scurries for the house, but the damage is already done. Her mother walks in and with one look, freezes Gemma in her spot.
"What." Rose's words are pointed, like sharp knives. "Did you do now."
"Nothing." Gemma whispers and Rose drops her purse on the counter, making Gemma flinch. "I ripped my dress." She confesses.
"How."
"I fell out of the tree."
"The tree I forbid you from climbing?"
"Yes."
"Did you disturb your father?"
"No." Gemma's eyes are filling with tears. Her entire body aches and she knows her punishment will not include a kind mother's hug.
"Well at least you can listen to one of my rules. Go to your room. You're not getting supper tonight." Gemma, head down, walks to her room and sits on her bed, shaking. Finally, she can't hold back the tears and she hugs her pillow tightly, sobs wracking her body.
3rd grade math teacher
3x3. 9. Next question. 5x9. 45. Next question. 1x0. 0. Next question. Sweating nervously, Gemma moves down the line of multiplication problems, hastily scratching out the numbers and trying not to second-guess herself. She knows there's not enough time for her to check her answers, look up, or even pause to figure out a harder problem. 60 problems in 60 seconds, that's the challenge. And Gemma mustn't lose.
"Pencils down." A sharp voice says and groaning, mere problems away the end, Gemma sets her pencil down and anxiously looks at her classmates, all who are as flushed and panicked as she is. "Exchange papers with the person next to you." Gemma reaches over and grabs the other paper. "Adam, read the first line of answers."
"14. 27. 6. 0. 32." He reads off and Gemma is following along, both correcting the paper in front of her and frantically trying to recall her own answers. She circles the mistakes and then hands the paper back, turning hers over with a sense of dread, Bracing herself, she checks the score in the upper right corner.
47/60. Her stomach sinks. That's not her best score and it likely won't be the best score in the class. She just prays that it's better than someone else. Anyone else. She furtively tries to look around and see her classmates' scores, but they're all hiding them.
"We've been studying multiplication for awhile now." Her teacher says, walking between the decks, ruler in hand. Occasionally she slaps it into her open palm and makes them all jump. "I expect some high scores. Raise your hand if you got better than a 35." All the hands in the room go up. "To be expected. A 40?" All the hands stay up, the students glancing around, wondering who will be the first to fall victim. "45?" Gemma stares at the 47, wishing with all her might that someone will lower a hand. "50?" Trembling, Gemma lowers her hand and so does a little girl with long blonde braids. Cindy. "What did you get Cindy?"
"49." She whispers, staring at Gemma in plain fear. Gemma wants to moan, but she clamps her mouth shut. Smiling coldly, her teacher walks over to inspect her paper and Gemma knows what's coming.
"47." She says quietly and Gemma grits her teeth, hating the shame that makes her cheeks flame. "Gemma, that means you got the worst score in the class." Well conditioned, Gemma extends her hands out and closes her eyes.
The ruler comes cracking down but Gemma keeps her tongue in check and doesn't cry out. That only ever makes it worse. She sits in silence and endures the punishment. It doesn't take long, though the pain lingers. She takes a deep breath to calm her tossing stomach. She glares at her teachers back as she turns, going back to teaching. Even fearless little Gemma doesn't dare say anything to the old woman and her ruler.
Fiona
"We need you to cook dinner tonight." Clay announces, walking in. Gemma looks up from her book, surprised.
"I can round up some of the crow eaters." She responds, a crease between her eyebrows. "Why?"
"The Irish are coming." Clay informs her, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. She watches him, a little bewildered.
"And they can't find some bar like Irishmen do why?" She asks pointedly.
"Cause it's not just the normal Irish Gem." He says, sitting down at the table across from her. "It's the heads, the top guys. Jimmy O'Phelan and the rest of those Real IRA."
"Isn't he the guy that give Chibs the…" Gemma asks in alarm, miming two scars on her cheeks and Clay nods, sighing.
"That's the one." He says heavily.
"Well shit, what do I make?" Gemma asks, leaning back and staring at him.
"Something with potatoes, I'd assume."
She settles on a crockpot of meat, carrots, onions, and potatoes. Crow eaters bring various sides and she organizes them on the counter, bringing out the nice plates and glasses, making everything just so. The sound of Harleys alerts her to the men's arrival and they assume their positions. When Clay walks in, Gemma kisses his cheek and is introduced to all the men. After Jimmy comes a stately dark woman, her black hair with a single grey streak in it.
"Gemma Teller." Gemma says, extending her hand. The woman looks at it with something akin to contempt then looks at her.
"Fiona. Fiona Larkin." She says, shaking it and Gemma is taken aback. Chibs's Fiona? The one that he had to leave behind when he had been exiled, that Jimmy had taken from him? With one glance to the downturned face of Chibs, she has her answer. Fascinated, Gemma watches Fiona.
Every movement is that of a queen. Her ramrod straight back, her graceful gait, even the regal way she holds her head, sitting as though her chair is a throne. She gives the queen of Charming a run for her money.
"And the daughter, she's beautiful." Jimmy is bragging, clearly trying in incite Chibs, who's gone violently red.
"Smart too." Fiona says quietly, eating a carrot as though she is discussing the weather and not a heated family feud that stretches back years. "Strong in her faith." Chibs still isn't looking at her, but his color is returning to normal. Gemma admires her openly.
"Oh, don't worry about the dishes." Gemma says, when Fiona takes up at spot in front of the sink, dishrag in hand.
"I'll help." She says flatly and Gemma doesn't argue. The men disappear outside to smoke and talk business. Gemma and Fiona wash in silence, until Gemma can't keep her questions in anymore.
"You were married to Chibs?" She asks and Fiona doesn't even look at her, eyes fixed on the silhouettes of the men outside.
"Aye. Still am." She states and Gemma nearly drops a glass. Fiona glances at her. "I thought… Jimmy." Gemma stammers and a wicked smile curves up Fiona's mouth as she scrubs a plate.
"What's a better way to destroy a man than from the inside?" She suggests casually and Gemma looks at her in awe and a tiny bit of fear. She can't imagine living with a man, day in and day out, just waiting for a chance to take her revenge on him. Fiona has strength Gemma isn't even sure she could muster. When Jimmy walks back in and Fiona kisses his cheek, Gemma can't help but shiver.
What Op says to Lyla to get her to come back inside
"Lyla!" He calls and she keeps her back to him, standing in the driveway with her arms wrapped around her slim torso. "Lyla." He says, a little quieter. "Please come back inside."
"Why?" She demands and he can tell by how high her voice is that she's holding back tears. "So I can keep getting called a slut and a whore?"
"They don't mean that." Opie protests and she finally turns, her eyes bright in the light from the garage.
"Yes they do!" She insists. "They do Op, they think I'm some slut because of what I do! It doesn't matter how many desserts I make or how many times I tuck the kids into bed. I could be the best mom and girlfriend in the entire world. They are never going to stop judging me."
"Ok, Gemma, she's best friends with Luann." Opie reminds her, slowly getting closer. "And Tara… Well it's not like she'd had good experiences with pornstars." That gets a watery chuckle from Lyla.
"I'm not trying to fuck Jax." She tells him and he smiles, enfolding her in a hug. She rests her head on his chest.
"I know." He says quietly. He avoids thinking about teenage Tara and Donna, sitting side by side at the diner, laughing at them. Collapsed and entangled on his couch, drunk and laughing. Play fighting in his kitchen early one morning, making breakfast and teasing each other. He doesn't want to tell Lyla that Tara hates her for more than just her job. And he doesn't dare.
"Is it crazy that I just want them to like me?" Lyla asks quietly and he is drawn out of the past to look down at her.
"No." He says quietly, remembering when Donna had asked the same thing about Gemma. "They're like family to me, of course you want their approval and friendship."
"Well, they hate me." Lyla says jokingly, wiping her damp cheeks.
"They don't." He promises, wiping the rest of her tears. "They're stressed, they hate change, and Gemma's just worried you have a better ass than her." Lyla pushes him with one hand but she's laughing again, which Opie takes as a good sign. "So please, come back inside? Please?" She takes a deep breath. "I want you there." He says quietly and she looks at him with wide eyes.
"Ok." She agrees, searching his face. "Ok, Op." She reaches down and takes his hand. He leads her back inside to the chaos.
AN: A lot of Gemma and Lyla this chapter (guess who my favs are). Please review, tell me who you want to see more of, what time you'd like to see more of, anything at all. Or just tell me how you liked this chapter! Thanks for reading!