a/n: This is the last of the Howl's home segment. After that we'll be ending the first arc (finally, right?). Plug your ears, because the Chekhov's guns are gonna get pretty loud!
Guest: If rugby prepared Howl for anything, it was for this breakfast, lol! You've got a great read on Sophie, and I'm so glad you love her 'cause she needs it. Excellent questions, by the way! I'm hoping to answer them within the next few chapters. Until then, thank you and happy reading! :D
"Howl's Love Advice"
Chapter 54: Interference
Sophie couldn't relax after Howl left the kitchen.
She hadn't meant to intrude. She had hoped that inviting Mrs. Coriander to breakfast would set a favorable mood, but then Markl had been innocently, brutally chatty. Sophie had never seen Howl this distressed. His confident veneer had disappeared to reveal a three-dimensional stranger, someone the rumors had never mentioned.
In other words for the first time, Sophie realized that Howl was an actual person.
She couldn't look at him. How many times had she confidently judged him before even checking if she was right? She had accused him of focusing on appearances, but the truth was she had been doing the same. As things stood, she could not longer keep her resolve not to interfere, because for all the alarming statements Markl had made, Howl had never once shouted him down.
Taking a deep breath, she carried the tray of scones to the table. "Markl, how do you feel about living here?"
Her question punctuated the strained silence that had descended in Howl's absence. The boy's large brown eyes shifted between the adults. "I like it." He shrunk on his stool. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Of course not." Sophie tonged a scone onto his plate and added a dollop of peach preserves. "You like it here? What do you like?"
"Um... I, um, like my room and stuff. And bedtimes stories. I like it when my dad tells me bedtimes stories. He's good at making them up."
Sophie tried to picture it. Howl in an open-necked poet's shirt fending off imaginary sky pirates. Her cheeks warmed. "That's wonderful. What else? How about that pile of smelly socks we found?"
Markl wrinkled his nose and grabbed a scone. "Gross, I don't like socks!" He giggled. "Well, maybe nice socks. Daddy got me cool green ones to match my vest. Wanna see?"
"Maybe after -"
"Um, we play airplanes and wizards a lot. I'm always the airplane 'cause I'm fastest."
"Do you play any sports, Markl?" Mrs. Coriander asked lightly after a beat. Sophie and Calcifer shared a glance. The older woman's writing had relaxed.
Markl moved on to other positive stories about school and home, and so the morning continued.
Courage didn't make Howl leave the bathroom but rather desperation... and a whole mess of essential oils. However, when he finally ventured back into the living room he met an alarming sight: the caseworker was already leaving.
"Mr. Jenkins, you've got a lot of work to do on your parenting," she sniffed, pulling her coat over her stocky frame.
Any situation-smoothing phrases slipped Howl's mind and crumbled into the throbs of dread. Was this how it ended? Could he say anything to convince her? "If you let Markl stay, I swear I'll feed him and things" was on the tip of his tongue when she flashed that awful notebook of hers and, to his surprise, smiled.
"However, it looks like you're off to a passable start. Markl, call me if you need anything, alright young man? Nice meeting you, Sophie. Calcifer."
"Bye, Mrs. Corder!" Markl piped up beside Howl, startling him. The young father numbly leaned down in response to his son's upraised arms and lifted the boy onto his hip. Together they watched the caseworker hobble to that ugly green car and drive it off through the hills.
Calcifer fetched two beers from the kitchen. Howl gulped a third of one down, making Markl laugh, before handing it back. "What just happened?"
The red-head leaned close. "When you left the room, Sophie -"
"I'm headed out, too," she spoke behind them, causing Howl to swivel. She was meeting his eyes again, but her expression was blank. Not that he blamed her. She was probably at her limit with politeness and needed to leave before she said something.
Chest burning, he shifted so she could pass into the front hallway, but then he noticed the mobile in her hand.
"You can't tell anyone about this." A crack around her brow. "About Markl, I mean. The media will be all over him. Please, Sophie. I want him to live normally a little while longer."
Her mask softened. "Of course I won't tell. Why would I?"
"You'll delete the pictures then?" he pressed, eying her phone.
Calcifer shifted uncomfortably. "Dude -"
"I didn't take any pictures." Sophie sighed. She glanced out the window. "I was going to call for a taxi, that's all."
Howl blinked. Oh right. Aside from his and Calcifer's cars, Mrs. Coriander's had been the only other vehicle in the driveway.
What had Calcifer been saying earlier? That Sophie had helped him out somehow? I'm an idiot, of course she did. Who cleans somebody's house on their Saturday off?
He shook his head. "No need about the taxi. I can drive you home."
Markl brightened. "Can I come?"
"... but Grandma looked like this," the little boy demonstrated from his booster seat. "Hahah, Daddy got scared!"
"Out of my mind. Your grandma gives me the heebie jeebies," Howl said over his shoulder.
Almost as surprising as President Suliman acting like a normal grandmother was how cozy Sophie found the ride home. Howl actually drove like a sane person when his son was in the car. Markl's chatterings buffered the awkwardness between the adults, but Sophie was eager to get home, drink tea, finish packing, and sort her current mess of thoughts.
"Is that your house?" Markl suddenly asked.
They were pulling up to Mrs. Beatrix's property. A moving truck sat in the driveway. Sophie's breath hitched at the sight. "Um, no, it belongs to my elderly friend. Well, not anymore. I'm moving out."
"You're gonna be homeless?" Markl lamented.
"Don't worry, I'll find something soon," soothed Sophie as she unbuckled. She turned to meet Howl's curious gaze. "Thanks for the ride," she murmured.
"You know -" Howl rolled his eyes heavenwards when Markl continued, startling Sophie into a laugh - "when I lost my house, they let me live at the orphanage. It was okay, but then daddy -"
He went silent for so long, eyebrows tightly knitted, that Sophie and Howl exchanged bemused glances.
"I know!" the little boy finally yelled. "You should live with us, Sophie! Do you have a daddy?"
Sophie could not, would not, look at Howl. "Not anymore."
"Then that's easy. My daddy can be your daddy, too!" Markl crowed.
