A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback on this story. I am so happy you are enjoying it. I've had a crazy busy period recently but now it's time for some updating. So I hope you enjoy this one. This one's for the rockstar anonymous reviewers, the ones I can't PM. Regular reviewers keep this site going and you are awesome. Patsy and your clan: you rock.
.. Building and Rebuilding ..
Have you ever built a house?
"Wait, let's make it taller first," Zola says.
I bet you have. Maybe it was a long time ago. A really long time ago.
"Can you reach?" Derek points, and then passes her a bright yellow block.
The thing is, you may not remember. Because we start building houses young. Really young.
"I help," Bailey insists, one little hand reaching out as Zola winces in advance of an anticipated crash.
"Careful," Zola warns her brother, sounding surprising adult, and he nods, taking the project seriously, inching his small fingers toward the growing stack of smooth, brightly colored wooden blocks.
But even though we all start out building houses … most of us eventually stop. We grow up, put away our blocks, and we move into places other people have already built. We choose the four walls and windows and doors that we think will work best for us and our loved ones. And then we cross our fingers and hope the foundations are sturdy.
"Watch out!" Zola leaps to her feet, dragging her baby brother with her, as the house comes tumbling down.
Bailey laughs with delight. "Crash," he says happily.
Because sometimes houses fall. They're just buildings. They're made of – well, they're not made of wooden kids' blocks, not out there in grown up land, but they're still just buildings. They're a series of walls, and walls fall. If you're lucky, you rebuild.
"Maybe it would have worked better smaller," Zola offers doubtfully.
"It's okay." Meredith checks her watch. "You have enough time to build another one."
And if you're really lucky … what you rebuild is even stronger than what you lost.
Meredith joins the other three members of her family on the carpeted floor for the next phase of construction, which involves a heated – but still relatively diplomatic – debate between Zola or Bailey about which shape of block provides the best foundation. Bailey's choice is spherical, but he defends it passionately.
"Let him try," Derek suggests, "and then if it doesn't work, we'll try something else."
Zola agrees to this. More importantly, from Meredith's perspective, when the block slides right off the wooden ball, she gives Bailey a comforting pat on the shoulder without a hint of triumph. "Good try," she says, and Bailey beams at the praise – and beams even more when Zola hands him a wooden rectangle to help her rebuild the foundation.
The children are still building, the walls inching higher, when Derek eases to his feet and offers Meredith a hand up. He pours another cup of coffee in the nearby kitchen area, but Meredith has the sense that's not the only reason why he drew her aside.
"Are you sure you want to start house-hunting before you know where you'll be working?"
"It's DC," Meredith reminds him, "there are more world-class opportunities than I could even brainstorm, and they're everywhere. And we need a house."
"We do need a house." He pauses. "Mer ... thank you."
She leans against him, snagging his mug to steal a sip of coffee. "For what?"
"For flying out here … and bringing the kids … and being willing to do this."
"This is our life," she reminds him gently. "It's what I want to do."
"I know." He kisses the top of her head, and then her lips when she tilts her face up to meet his. "I'm just grateful."
"I'm glad you're grateful."
"Well, I'm grateful you're glad."
She kisses him again instead of responding. He tastes like coffee and something else warm and comforting she can't quite identify. She just knows she likes it.
And she knows she doesn't want to live without it.
…
They take turns helping the children get ready, ducking and dipping in and out of the two bathrooms and the sole bedroom.
"Fancy meeting you here," Derek teases when they walk directly into each other on the living area's threshold.
Meredith smiles. "It's possible we need a little more space."
Bailey is attempting to scale the length of his father, a look of concentration on his small face.
"And some room for them to run around, so all their energy isn't used up on – hey," Derek catches Bailey just as he loses his grip and starts to fall, then turns back to Meredith. "Where was I?"
"You were right here." She taps an uninjured Bailey's little nose. "And you were right. These two need a yard."
"With swings," Zola pipes in.
"Swings are a great idea." Meredith reaches down to untuck the collar of her daughter's soft shirt.
"And not just the – " Zola glances at Bailey. "- small ones," she says euphemistically, apparently for her little brother's benefit.
They haven't been in DC very long at all, but it seems Zola is already well on her way to becoming a diplomat.
An anxious diplomat, one who has asked Meredith twice when the realtor is coming.
"She should be here in a few minutes." Meredith draws her daughter closer, confused by her expression. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
"Do me and Bailey have to stay here?"
"What do you mean?"
"When you see houses and stuff."
"No, of course not. You're coming with us."
Zola brightens at this. "And we can help? Pick the one we're gonna live in, I mean."
"Of course you can. Within reason," Meredith adds teasingly, "no petting zoos or circus trapezes."
Zola smiles, and then her eyes widen. "But if we have a house … maybe we can get a dog."
"… one thing at a time, Zozo."
"Wise advice," Derek adds, leaning in to tug lightly at one of Zola's pigtails and then returning to the often complex task of tying Bailey's shoes without injuring himself in the process.
…
"Good morning! I'm Eternity," the realtor says brightly as soon as the door opens – but with as much pep as she has in her words, they're still not as bright as her hair.
Which is pink.
Very, very pink.
Zola's eyes widen appreciatively.
"Come in … Eternity," Derek repeats, then seems to school himself quickly. "Nice to meet you." He introduces himself and Meredith. "And these are our children."
"I heard about them from –"
"Mrs. Poppins," Derek supplies.
"Mrs. Rollins," Meredith corrects.
Zola brightens at the name of her babysitter. "Is she coming house-hunting too?"
"No," Derek says, "but once we find a house, she can come and hang out with you there."
Zola seems satisfied by this.
"I like the color of your hair," she tells Eternity, Meredith wincing slightly, wondering if she'll be offended.
"Thanks! I like the color of yours too." Eternity smiles at Zola and then reaches behind her to wheel in a neon green nylon briefcase. "I know you're looking to move quickly," she says, "which is great … because I specialize in quick turnarounds."
Meredith can't help thinking that she should have been named something more like Ephemeral if that's the case, but that's none of her business.
"I placed an NIH family last week in Chevy Chase, actually, but …." She studies the family for a moment. "I'm getting more of a Rockville feel right now."
"A Rockville feel," Derek repeats, sounding doubtful.
"Oh, but I'm not certain. Not yet. I have plenty of questions before we get started, don't worry."
"Right. Of course." Meredith and Derek exchange a nervous glance.
They move the remaining detritus of family life from the table – Bailey's orange sippy cup, a handheld puzzle Zola was working on earlier – so they can spread out. Bailey is distracted with his colorful blocks; Zola moves back and forth between her brother and her parents.
"You probably want to know more about us before you … decide where to take us," Meredith offers, mainly to appease a rather worried-looking Derek.
"You read my mind! I absolutely do."
"Great." Meredith glances at her husband. "Why don't you …"
"Sure." Derek nods. "So, uh, location. I've been dividing my time between the offices here in the district and this hotel, and I've kept a room by the main campus, but we're interested in finding a place we can stay full time until – " Derek stops talking, presumably because of Eternity's confused expression. "And, uh, we're interested in placing Zola in a school that can – is something wrong?"
"No, no," Eternity reassures him, "it's just … that's not the sort of information I meant. That's not what I need to find the right house for you."
"It's not?" Meredith can't help sounding doubtful.
"Definitely not." Eternity looks pensive. "You must have had some strange realtors before me if you're surprised by that."
Meredith feels Derek's foot nudging her ankle, a sure sign he's trying not to laugh, and presses her lips together.
"Anyway!" Eternity continues brightly. "Let's start with some of the really important things so I can find the right neighborhood and the right house." She whips out a large folder and hands a document each to Derek and Meredith.
"If I can ask all of you to take a look at this questionnaire…"
"All of us? You have … questionnaires for the kids too?" Meredith asks faintly.
"Of course." Eternity looks confused. "It's their house too."
"I know, but …"
"I can read," Zola says, having wandered back over. She's leaning against Derek, peering at his questionnaire with interest.
"I know, I heard all about your reading skills. Here," and Eternity gives Zola her own piece of paper – this one bright pink.
Zola beams, then brings her questionnaire to the other end of the table and climbs up into her own seat to start filling it out.
"I'll just give Bailey his verbally," Eternity adds, "and make note of his answers … if that's all right with you, I mean."
"Sure," Meredith says weakly, watching as Eternity strolls across the carpet to join Bailey on the floor with the blocks. She can tell by the timbre of his voice that he's charmed by the company.
Meredith sneaks a glance around at her family. Derek is frowning slightly as he studies the questionnaire, occasionally clicking his pen in the habit he's never broken.
Zola's lower lip is pressed lightly with her teeth as she concentrates, leaving a waxy purple series of lines across the paper as she answers the questions.
Bailey is chattering with Eternity, some of it distinct as she catches certain words, pen scratching across paper.
Tiger, that's one.
And in a moment or two, cookie, said with an implied exclamation point – the only way Bailey ever says it.
Meredith is amused … and nervous. Is she going to be responsible for a realtor who thinks they want to live in a combined bakery/exotic zoo?
… look on the bright side, she reminds herself. Zola and Bailey would both be thrilled with the bakery/exotic zoo combo, and if it's convenient to NIH…
"Mommy?"
Meredith looks over at Zola, the interruption coming just in time.
"How do you spell parachute?"
"P-a-r-a," Meredith begins automatically, then stops. "Wait … Zo, why do you need to spell that word?"
"I just do," Zola shrugs.
Meredith finishes spelling it. "Zozo," she begins tentatively, "is your questionnaire …"
Zola lifts a finger to her lips, looking much like Meredith probably does when she reminds her daughter to keep quiet during the baby's nap. "Shh, Mommy, I'm working."
Meredith hides her smile, and returns to her own questionnaire.
It's difficult.
Not in the way she predicted. It's not asking for expertise or even knowledge of DC neighborhoods, or for maximum mileage between home and work – a work Meredith hasn't figured out yet – or even technical questions about numbers of bathrooms and bedrooms.
Maybe that's why she's still stuck on the first question: At my best, I am … and then there are choices: a revolutionary, a caregiver, an inventor, a teacher, a leader, a risk-taker, and optimist, an adventurer.
Meredith glances from the paper to Eternity and back again, then at Derek, whose own head is bent over his paper. "Um … is this supposed to be …"
"Just choose the best answer you can," Eternity says with a smile.
The next question doesn't even have the security of multiple choice: Why do people fear losing things they do not even have yet?
She sneaks a glance at Derek's questionnaire, which seems to be different from hers, and catches just half a question: … the same as other people's experience of consciousness?
Feeling a bit like she's stepped through the looking glass, Meredith turns back to her questionnaire to read the next line: Which is more powerful to you, nature or nurture?
"Daddy," Zola looks up from her paper and Meredith and Derek both look over to her. "How do you spell zombie?"
"Sound it out," Derek suggests, apparently not at all concerned with the reason why she needs to know.
"Z," she responds. "a, or o." She pauses. "o, m, b … y?"
"Close. What else makes the –"
"i, e!" Zola corrects triumphantly, and returns to her paper.
"That was a great spelling lesson," Meredith whispers into her husband's ear, "but are you at all concerned that our daughter apparently thinks our house-hunting will involve reanimated corpses?"
He makes a face at her, and then it's her turn to kick him so she doesn't laugh. She forces herself to pay attention to the questionnaire. Eternity is Mrs. Rollins's friend. If she can trust the elderly-but-spry yoga teacher with her children's lives, she can trust them with finding a realtor.
Can't she?
She keeps this in mind as she makes her way through the rest of the questionnaire, pausing to help Zola spell astronaut and, rather worryingly … tarantula.
…
Finally all the questionnaires have been collected. To call it the moment of truth would be … it would be fair, Meredith decides, because all four of them are dressed to go and Eternity is leading them down the hall toward her car – the fact that it's a bright yellow pickup truck really shouldn't surprise her at this point, should it?
Derek pauses before they load in the children's carseats.
"Okay, Mer." He leans close so his words are only for her. "You found Mrs. Poppins, and she seemed a little weird, and then turned out to be incredible. So I want to give her friend the benefit of the doubt here. But I'm having a little trouble with how someone who just met us is supposed to find a place that meets all of our needs – educational, professional, space, resources, everything – based on a questionnaire that didn't ask one thing about the kind of house we need or where we want to live, but did ask: What makes you, you? And: Is there a different between living and being alive?"
Meredith gives him a sympathetic pat on the arm. "I'm with you," she says. "But – what's the harm in trying?"
"She might drive us to some … yoga commune," he whispers.
"Even if she does, we don't have to live there." She turns to lift Bailey into the car. "I think we should give her a chance," she says finally.
"Yeah?" Derek looks at her. "Okay, then. That's enough for me."
"It is?"
"For now, yes. Ask me again when she tries to get us to buy a yurt."
Meredith hides a laugh in her sleeve as she helps Zola with her seatbelt, and then they're off, and the silver-grey city gives way to winding river and the kind of dense greenery she's missed. They haven't even gone that far, but it feels far, urban street turned to highway turned to winding road and then … to trail.
That's the other thing you need, when you build. It's not in the blueprints and it's kind of hard to describe. It's that indefinable, mysterious something that makes four walls, some brick and mortar …
The four of them stand in a row, transfixed, as the sun slants down across the jewel-green lawn and a warm spring breeze moves the thicket of trees leading to the winding trail that curves invitingly toward the woods.
… into a house.
"It's perfect," Derek admits.
"It's peaceful," Meredith says.
"No zombies," Zola points out.
"Mine!" Bailey adds with enthusiasm, summing it up for everyone as he points one little finger. "My house."
"Our house," Derek corrects him gently, and scoops him up.
The house is the outside. It's the walls, the door, the windows … the sturdy foundation you hope will keep you safe. It's the space around the space you fill with what you need. Sometimes we get caught up in finding the perfect space. The right space. The one that will make everything come together.
"Can we really live here? All together?" Zola squeezes her mother's hand and Meredith pulls her close to her side for a hug.
"All together," she assures her daughter, the big smile she gets in return worth more than any broker's fee.
And then sometimes you find a house so perfect that it reminds you that a house – no matter how perfect – really is just that. A house. And what makes it a home is actually the people who live inside.
"Shall we?" Derek holds out his free hand, the one not carrying Bailey, and Meredith slips one of her hands into his, the other linking her to Zola. It's the first house she's shown them, and they haven't even seen the inside. Maybe it shouldn't feel this right, this soon – all she knows is that it does. So together, she and Derek and their children walk up the flagstone path toward the front door, ready to see what comes next.
See, what that means is that the most important part of the house is the one you build before you even set foot in the driveway. The one you rebuild, if you need to. Because it's that important. And if you're lucky, you remember the lessons from your days of wooden blocks and legos and childhood architecture … and you rebuild it into something even stronger.
To be continued. Because when you're obsessed with the McFamily, every day is Fluffy Friday. Ready for move-in? Ready for a chapter prompt I got ages ago and I will have to check out from whom ... but it's coming? Just want to let me know you're still into blazing this trail? Review and let me know! xoxo