Author's note: Adult language ahead.

Chapter 2: Trust in Me - Rated T+

March 1st, 8:45pm (Spring)

The bare trees towered over us blocking out the moon and the stars as we walked down the slushy and muddy road that led back home. The wind bit at my face and the smell of the damp, cold air reminded me of early mornings waiting for the bus with Grandpa.

Hay Creek had the closest primary school but it was a half-hour bus ride there. Grandpa woke me up at 6:00 every morning and waited for the bus with me. He'd wrap me in his jacket on particularly cold mornings and I recalled how my bleary-eyed grogginess faded to alerted excitement when the bus showed up. I was the first student on the bus each day and the last one to get off. Sure enough, Grandpa would be waiting for me at 5:00 in the evening with a big smile on his face.

"Morgan?" Elliott murmured. "You're crying."

"What? O-oh." I wiped at my face and I shivered. "Sorry. I — uh — I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. Let's take a break real quick."

Elliott squeezed my hand and guided me to the iron bus stop bench. We both sat down and I leaned into him feeling mentally drained.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked gently.

I inhaled. I tried to say something but the words never materialized. How could they? What could I say? Oh, I'm sorry that I was late. I passed out at the mountain lake after a 20 year old curse broke and years of repressed and forgotten memories came flooding back?

"You won't believe me." I said. "Hell, I barely believe it myself."

"My dear, I write fiction for a living. I know it's surprising, but I'm quite good at suspending my disbelief."

His gentle rebuking sarcasm pulled a chuckle from my chest and I bumped him with my shoulder. "Shut up. I'm being serious."

He bumped me back, "As am I."

I glowered up at him and sighed. I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips. Ever since I had left Marlon's place, there had been a low-key and dull aching pain right behind my eyes.

I let out another exasperated sigh. "Elliott, do you believe in curses?"

He cocked his head thoughtfully, "Curses as in fairy tales? Like curses that put beautiful princesses to sleep and they can only be woken up by true love's kiss? Or do you mean a dark curse? Like a death curse?"

A shiver jolted down my spine when he said 'death curse.' I hugged myself and closed my eyes. There was a faint buzzing in my ears and I tried to push through it.

"Uh…I don't really know which curse we're talking about…hypothetically speaking. But hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I was cursed twenty years ago by a witch who lived in the forest."

I couldn't bare to look at him. I just stared at my boots and at the freezing mud and slush that marked the rutted road. A minute of silence passed before I dared to even peek at him. His face was nigh invisible in the darkness. I made out his vague features but I couldn't tell much else.

When he finally spoke his voice was quiet and careful. "Do you mean our forest? The Cindersnap Forest here in Pelican Town?"

"Yeah…"

He cleared his throat and there was a roughness in his voice when he replied. "Hypothetically…I would do everything I could to help you break the curse."

Thin tears welled up in my eyes and I looked at him pitifully. "And if the curse was already broken?"

He shook his head, but even without seeing his face I knew he was trying to rationalize it out in his brilliant mind.

"Morgan. What exactly happened at the lake today?"

I sniffled and shuddered as more doubt crept into my mind. He swallowed the whole 'curse' thing pretty well, but that was only the half of it.

"I — I — uh." I stuffed down the overflowing emotions that threatened to burst out of my chest. "I don't know how to explain it exactly."

I tried to pull together an analogy that could help me make this surreal experience more, I don't know…concrete and relatable? But I just had to rely on Elliott's own imagination and my honest account of everything no matter how silly or made-up it seemed.

"I have an Uncle." I blurted out. "His name is Marlon. I met him up at the mountain lake today."

"Okay…" Elliott's reply was cautious.

I brushed away the tears that spilled over onto my face. My stomach rolled in my gut, but I didn't know if it was because I was hungry or getting sick with something.

I sighed. Maybe I could treat this like a band-aid. Maybe I needed to blurt everything out and let it sit.

"So…I met my Uncle Marlon. Well…he's technically my great Uncle but I've always called him Uncle. He's my Grandfather's brother-in-law. But when I say the world 'always' I'm not really referring to a moment in time or the past. It's more like I should've called him my Uncle if — if I had remembered that he in fact was my Uncle."

Another pregnant pause fell between us.

"Look, I know what I just said didn't make any —"

"— So you're saying you have amnesia? —"

"— What?! No! I mean, yes. Kind of." My face burned from the sheer embarrassment of how stupid I sounded. "I — uh — I guess you could call it that. But I apparently don't have it anymore. Or at least the memories are slowly coming back."

"And why is that?" Elliott asked calmly.

I winced and phrased the next part as a question. "I was cursed?"

Before he could respond, I tried to recover myself and jumped back into explaining everything. "The thing is Elliott…these memories…they just kinda appeared in my mind as soon as I met Uncle Marlon again. It's like how some people look back at old photo albums and see a picture of something and it sparks a memory in their mind that they'd otherwise would've never remembered on their own."

I buried my face in my hands as the headache got worse. I felt feverish and I tried to clear my mind of everything, but all of my thoughts were buzzing around in my head like an angry beehive. When I sat back up, I glanced up at Elliott who was staring back at me. The thin sliver of the moon made it just light enough for me to see that he was still puzzling through everything.

"Morgan, this —"

"— Is crazy. I know." I interjected. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. If I heard this coming from someone else, I would definitely think they were lying but I'm not lying Elliott. I swear."

"I know." He replied softly. "I believe you."

"I — wait. You do?"

He shifted sideways on the metal bench pulled me into him and gently kissed my forehead. "I do. I'm so sorry this has happened to you."

His jacket smelled like a mixture of the cabin's woodsmoke and his cologne. I leaned into him and let his scent envelop me. As I did, more tears leaked down my cheeks and I let out a throaty laugh of relief and disbelief. "You seriously believe me? Yoba, I feel like I'm going crazy here. This was not how I thought this conversation would go."

He hugged me tighter. "Believe me. You're not crazy. This is a strange case but people can sometimes repress memories of their childhood, especially if something traumatic happened to them."

I pulled away abruptly, "I haven't repressed anything Elliott. My memories were stolen from me. Taken. And without my permission. Memories of my Grandfather and my Grandmother — apparently she was alive while I was a young child and I had no idea!" The weight of that fact settled on my shoulders and I got up from the bench. "And my father never left me. Holy shit! He was around when I was a kid. I don't know for how long, or if he even was a good dad, but my mother lied to me."

When that realization hit me, a tidal wave of bitter anger and betrayal soon followed. "Grandpa lied to me. Fuck. I bet the entire town knew about this if Uncle Marlon did. Mayor Lewis, Pierre, Caroline, Jodi…"

I pushed out of Elliott's embrace and stormed off ready to confront each and every one of them, but Elliott rushed to my side and stopped me.

"Woah! Woah. Morgan. What are you doing?"

"I'm going to see Mayor Lewis." I said. "I deserve answers Elliott!"

"You do." He agreed, "But you also need to eat something. I want to talk more about this at home. I obviously have some questions about all of this, and I can help you do some research about why and how this all happened, but banging on peoples' doors at this hour isn't going to help you get answers."

My anger deflated into cold defiance. "It might make me feel better if I just yell at them for a bit."

Elliott chuckled, "It won't, love. Trust me. It really won't."

No! This wouldn't stand. Now that Elliott knew and he believed me, it only validated that I wasn't in fact crazy and that my whole world was starting to crash in around me. I wanted answers, dammit!

"I'm still going to see him." I growled as I tried to push past, but Elliott held fast.

"Morgan. Mayor Lewis isn't even here! He picked up a to-go order while I was waiting for you and drove to Zuzu City with Marnie. We need to wait. I know that's the last thing you want to do, but you can't go and raise hell now. You need to start at the source. Call your mom first. We can try and get ahold of your dad and maybe you three can sit down and talk this out."

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled slowly out of my mouth. I did that twice more until I could look Elliott in the face without wanting to punch him for having the audacity to be reasonable in a situation like this.

As the anger subsided, raw grief and pure exhaustion took its place and the strength left my legs. I collapsed against Elliott but he caught me and stumbled backward.

"Woah! Morgan? Morgan!"

The world was spinning around me and I felt like I was going to get sick. I held onto Elliott's arms for dear life and struggled back to my feet.

"Morgan? Are you okay?"

"Oh…dammit. I — I don't feel well. This happened to me at the lake. I — I feel like I'm gonna faint or be sick." I replied breathily.

"Here. Take this. We are going home." He passed me the plastic bag full of our food and slid around behind me to help guide and support me as we walked back to the cabin.

As we got closer, I smelled the smoldering wood from our fireplace and saw a thin grey wisp of smoke rising from the chimney. When we approached the stoop, a strange feeling overtook me and I let go of Elliott's hand and collapsed onto the steps like a sack of potatoes. The cabin looked different to me. It looked newer, the wood looked fresher, and then I heard the squeal of piglets off to my left where I knew there were none.

"Morgan?"

Elliott's voice sounded so far away and I wondered if I was hallucinating. I struggled to get to my feet as the world upended and the ringing in my ears grew to be deafening. I smelled the warm honey and maple syrup from Grandma's famous corn bread. Grandpa's muck boots sat next to my own. The ghost of a grey tabby cat streaked through my legs and I saw myself — my four year old self — racing after the cat squealing in excitement.

"Morgan!" My mother's voice yelled as clear as a bell. I looked back in the direction that we had come expecting to see her SUV in the driveway, but all I saw was Elliott who was saying something that I couldn't hear.

My body flushed hot and cold. My heart pounded in my throat. I felt sick…exactly like how I felt when I caught meningitis.

"Morgan!" A chorus of voices yelled at me from all directions.

"Morgan!"

"Morgan!"

Elliott gathered me up from the porch steps and carried me into the warm cabin. He laid me on the couch and I kicked my feet off the side to try and minimize the amount of mud I got on the furniture.

"I'm r-remembering things." I croaked. Tears dripped from my cheeks and left faint damp blotches on the mint green upholstery. "I — Yoba dammit, there's so much I'm remembering."

He held me tighter and murmured, "It's okay. Just breathe, love. Tell me what you're remembering."

I tried to focus on the intangible swirling thoughts and sensations that flashed in my mind but each memory popped out of my head as quickly as it came. It was like I was watching a slide show at three times the normal speed.

"I remember my Grandma's cooking. I always thought she had died from cancer before I was born, but I know that's not true. Grandpa kept pigs in the pasture out past where my chicken coop is now. I knew that from before but now I remember the details. I remember the white-washed wooden shed he built and that we'd feed them our table scraps when the compost pile was too full."

Another memory materialized which made me chuckle. "And one of his sows had piglets. I snuck one of them into the spare bedroom where mom and I were sleeping. I had this crazy scheme that I'd raise it in secret and it would grow up to be my pet. Grandpa knew exactly I was doing and I think he played along for a couple of hours, but my Mom was not happy. I was traumatized when she told me I had to bring little Wilbur back to his mom."

Elliott chuckled and stroked my sweat-beaded brow, "That very much sounds like you."

Damn him. He was right. It felt good to talk this out. Talking about these things made them seem more real and substantial now and it alleviated my physical ailments as well.

Elliott pulled my boots off and set them by the door. Then he helped me sit up. Once I was sure that the room wouldn't spin out from beneath me, I let Elliott help me up to my feet and we walked to the small kitchen table where our to-go boxes were waiting.

"I'm sure the food is cold by now." I said apologetically.

Elliott shrugged, "I'll reheat it in the microwave. Do you feel well enough to have some wine or do you want some water?"

"Wine, please." I sank into the chair and Golden jumped up onto the table. I picked her up and set her in my lap. She knew she wasn't suppose to be on the table, but then again she was a cat and she did as she pleased.

Although I felt exhausted, the pounding headache was gone and my nausea was replaced with ravenous hunger. Elliott transferred our meals into microwave-safe bowls and placed one in the microwave for a couple of minute. As it heated up, the kitchen filled with the delicate aroma of basil and oregano that Gus used in his homemade spaghetti sauce and my stomach audibly growled.

He brought the wine glasses over and passed me my warm bowl before popping his into the microwave. He uncorked the wine with practiced efficiency and poured us both a healthy amount. Before Elliott sat down with his own food, I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards me.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so patient and amazing and … I don't now … calm about all of this?" I chuckled awkwardly. "I'm sure this wasn't how you thought our night would turn out, and I'm sure I probably look and sound like a crazy person, but —"

He silenced my nervous babbling with a kiss that held a little more heat and passion than I was ready for. I wanted to reciprocate with the same gusto but I knew where that would take us and absolutely needed to eat something before we went down that avenue. I pulled away with a rueful smile, but I noticed that the passion behind Elliott's kiss came from a place of fear rather than lust.

"You scared me, that's all." He murmured. "You're usually so calm. Seeing you this upset is unsettling."

"I'm sorry."

I didn't really know what I was apologizing for but I felt that it needed to be said anyway.

He shook his head. "There's no need to apologize. Now please eat. I'll feel better knowing that you're taking proper care of yourself."

We sat down at the table and divided up the spoils. The wine that Elliott chose was tart and fruity without being overwhelmingly sweet, and Gus's spaghetti was simply perfect. The noodles were cooked al dente and the sauce held a slight sweetness that only local and home-grown tomatoes could have.

Elliott and I ate in companionable silence. Well, he ate. I inhaled. I forced myself to let my food settle before I ventured for more. Golden sat on my lap purring like a small engine. Thanks to Elliott's regular conditioning with the laser pointer and our dwindling supply of cat treats, Golden maintained her athletic build and weighed an impressive fifteen pounds. I was concerned that she was too heavy but Marnie assured me that Golden was just a physically large cat.

As Elliott finished eating, I finally dared to look around the inside of the cabin to try and remember moments or memories that had been taken from me. There wasn't a lot that came to me at first. I knew that my Grandma always sat on the side of the table where Elliott sat now. The natural light from the morning sunrise made it easier for her to see when she was working on her needlepoint.

I looked towards the fireplace and the mantle to where Grandpa's army photograph sat. The black and white picture showed my Grandpa as a handsome man barely out of his teens. His light blond hair was neatly parted and combed. He held his ornate Ferngill Republic army helmet beneath his left arm while his right hand rested on a saber. I don't know why but the picture made me feel melancholy now.

Before I could dive too deep down the rabbit hole of memories, I heard my cell phone ringing. There was really only a couple of people who would be calling me at this hour, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to either of them right now.

I glanced wordlessly at Elliott and he nodded in response.

"I'll clean up. You should probably take that."

I poured myself another healthy portion of wine which made Elliott smile and I picked up my phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi honey!" My mom's voice said. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

Already the lump in my throat was forming so I gulped down some wine before speaking. "Uh—no — no. You didn't wake me. Elliott and I were just finishing dinner."

"Oh. Well then I won't keep you. I just wanted to remind you of the baby shower this weekend. Remember, I don't want you to buy me anything. The advantage of having younger co-workers is that they have tons and tons of baby clothes that they are looking to sell for cheap. This is going to be a low-key celebration at the house. Marge is bringing her amazing strawberry shortcake and her daughters have some silly games for us to play. I didn't want to have a party but — well you know how Marge gets."

I actually didn't. Hell, I couldn't even remember what Marge looked like but I just mumbled in agreement.

"It's going to be a brunch affair. I'll be making a quiche. If you wanted to bring anything from the farm, just remember that it needs to be pasteurized."

"Mmhmm."

Mom's tone changed and became sharper, "What's the matter? You sound upset. You're not still jealous of your little brother or sister, are you?"

"W-what?" My voice cracked and I sniffled. "No! Yoba, no. It's not that. It — I —"

Instead of saying what I wanted to say, a raw choking sound came out of my throat and I pulled the receiver away from me and hugged the phone against my chest.

"Honey? Honey what's wrong!?" Her voice was barely audible. Just as I brought the phone back up to my ear, she then said a little softer "Are you and Elliott having problems?"

She had lowered her voice just in case Elliott was nearby and accidentally overheard her accusation. The sheer fact that she would jump to Elliott being the problem was the spark that lit the tinder.

"No." I snapped. "No mom. We're not. We're great actually."

"Oh. Then is it your time of the month?"

I completely ignored that question. "I talked to dad this morning."

"What dad? Whose dad?"

"My dad." I snarled. "You know. Henry. The man you fucked to conceive me when you were a teenager."

"Morgan Grace you will watch your mouth!"

I continued without missing a beat. "The man who you said left us when I was just a baby. The man whose name I didn't even know until this morning. The man who you were going to build a house with in hills up by the mountain lake? Remember him?"

I heard my mother's own small gasp and I took that opportunity and that brief pause to unleash everything I had pent up inside me since this morning.

"Yeah. So imagine the pleasant day that I had. Apparently I have an Uncle too? Yeah, he reintroduced himself to me while I was fishing today. So imagine my surprise when I learn that you've lied to me for my entire life. Grandpa's lied to me. This whole damned town has lied to me!"

"Morgan! No — No — listen honey —"

"— NO YOU LISTEN!" Tears streamed down my face. I was trembling so badly that half of my wine sloshed out of the glass and so I set it down on the dresser. "I just found out today that my father never left me when I was a baby like you and Grandpa claimed. I discovered that I was not only cursed by a fucking witch — a Yoba damned witch — but I was also alive when Grandma was still going through chemo. You told me she died before I was born! I apparently use to play fight with a sword strapped to my hip, and now I have who-knows-how-many years of memories pushing their way back into my fucking brain! There is NO excuse or reason you could give me that would make any of this okay!"

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. I heard soft sobs on the other end which told me that we hadn't been disconnected.

I exhaled so loudly that my own phone's receiver crackled slightly. I cleared my throat but my voice came out like I had swallowed gravel. "When I have calmed down, I will call you back and you will explain everything to me. But now, I — I don't want to talk to you."

"H-honey. I never meant to hurt you." She croaked. "I love you, darling. Grandpa and I had no choice. If we told you the truth when you were a child…the shock to your system would've killed you. At least that's what Rasmodius said. What other choice did I have?"

"Who the fuck is Rasmodius!?"

"The wizard." Mom interjected.

"Good-bye mother." I spat. "I can't handle this right now."

"O-okay hon." Mom murmured. "I love you."

I couldn't say it back. Of course I still loved her. She was my mother. But I didn't feel love for her in that moment. I only felt cold gut-wrenching betrayal peppered with the vindication of being finally told the truth.

"Bye." I said and hung up the phone.

I downed my glass of wine in several greedy swallows. My head spun and I felt giddy and loose; it was like my brain was just sort of floating around in my skull. I stepped out of the bedroom Elliott's eyes on me.

"Sorry you had to hear that." I mumbled. "I'm going to check on Stella and the goats before I go to bed. I won't be gone long."

"Just give me a second to get my boots on and I'll go with you. Elliott replied. "I should be by you in case you have an —" He struggled to find a different word than 'episode' and then settled on "In case you get sick."

I wanted to stay that I wouldn't, but I didn't know that. So I just nodded and waited for him to grab his coat and slip into boots.

I let myself outside and pulled my winter hat down around my ears. The last afternoon mist was turning into spitting sleet and I tried to shield my face from the biting cold.

I didn't need a headlamp to know exactly where I was going. I could've walked to the barn blindfolded. It's amazing how much you can adjust to something after a year of repetition. There was also something calming about walking around at night. Unlike the frantic terror of getting lost as night descends, being on the farm at night always made me feel better about life. It was like I could just run away from my problems and disappear into the darkness.

Elliott followed silently behind me as we walked out to the barn. We both entered the side door and let our eyes adjust to the dim red emergency light in the corner which casted just enough glow for me to make my way to Stella's paddock. The gate wasn't latched so she could push her way out and sleep in the middle of the barn if she wanted, but with her pregnancy, Stella had become a lot more of a homebody.

Stella lowed softly and she thrusted her head over the railing to nose at my hands.

"Sorry girl." I murmured as I stroked her forehead. "No treats tonight. I just …" I sighed. "I just came to check on you."

She lowed again and swished her tail.

"Have you picked out a name for her little one yet?" Elliott asked.

I shook my head. "I can't think of any names that I like. I am probably going to wait until the baby is born and then decide."

Stella's warm breath tickled my fingers and her large, wet tongue swiped across my palm just to make sure that I didn't have any tasty morsel hiding anywhere.

"Ugh. Thanks girl." I smeared her slobber on my jeans.

We walked to the other side of the barn where I kept the goats. Nina and Nelle were both asleep in the stall that they shared. I had to nail chicken wire across the paddock door so they couldn't climb out in the night and run amuck in the barn. I never realized how mischievous goats could be until I got the twins. They were nearly identical in coloring with cream coats and black rumps, but Nina was slightly larger and she made a lower bleating sound when she talked.

Unfortunately, the animals could only provide a temporary distraction from what was really bothering me.

"Do you think I was out of line?" I asked Elliott. Then I clarified, "With my mom, I mean."

"No. I think you said what you needed to say."

I nodded gratefully but my heart still ached and the headache was returning. "Then why do I feel so — so — bad about it."

We left the barn and the sleet had turned to full-blown snowflakes. They landed in Elliott's hair like small glittering crystals. He closed the side door to the barn and then took my hand. We stood beneath the barn roof slightly sheltered from the snow and he turned to me.

"You shouldn't feel bad about expressing your true feelings, no matter how raw they might be. Your mother made a mistake. That doesn't mean you shouldn't still love her, but I would be just as upset if I was in your position."

"I —" I squeezed my eyes shut and sniffed. Yoba, I hadn't cried this much in months. "I don't know what to do about any of this Elliott! My whole world is crashing down around me."

Elliott pulled me into a crushing hug and I buried my face into his chest and sobbed. We probably stood outside that barn for twenty minutes until I finally emerged from his jacket, puffy-eyed and exhausted.

He cupped my face and kissed me. I tasted the salt from my tears in that kiss and it made me want more.

"Morgan, you are the strongest person I've ever met. Hold onto that."

"I'll try." I murmured.

He kissed my forehead. "C'mon. Let's go to bed."

"Go to bed, or go to bed?"

Elliott chuckled, "Which would you prefer?"

It was nearly midnight and way past my usual bedtime, but then again, this had been the shittiest day I've ever had I desperately needed something more than just sleep.

I combed my fingers through Elliott's snow-damp hair and drew him into me. "Take me to bed then Mr. Michaels."

"Gladly my love."