Old Gemini

Empty of tears, of anguish, of anger, fear, hunger, and every other little feeling Eileen had ever experienced, she turned to her dad. He was cradling Calliope in his arms, who, at some point during her own tears, cried herself to sleep.

Behind her, she could hear Essie still whimpering occasionally. When she did, Edie shushed her and would then hum a few notes of a song she used to sing them when they were babies.

Sev stared back at her with eyes that were voids. They held nothing in them, just like she had nothing in her.

Except for one thing.

In her chest was a tiny, smoldering calling. It would become an inferno if she didn't take care of it soon. If she let it get that wild, Eileen would become a mess like her sisters and wouldn't be able to accomplish the task.

"I want to see her," she said.

Essie's whimpers hitched in volume and Edie made a sound between a sigh and sob herself.

She didn't flinch at their reactions. Nor did Sev. Instead, he nodded and said, "Let me place Calliope in her bed and we will go."

Eileen brought a hand to her cheeks and began to scrub at the uncomfortable deposits left by her earlier flood of tears. "Okay," she agreed

-O-

There was a sterile white sheet pulled up to Lottie's chin and an equally white handkerchief covered most of her face too. All that Eileen could see of her twin was her lips and chin. For some, it would not be enough to tell the identity of another. For her, it was almost too much. Eileen knew her sister's chin, her mouth.

Lottie's lips and chin were Eileen's too.

Moving closer inch by inch, Eileen forced herself to remember to breathe in and out. The last thing anyone needed right now was for her to forget and faint next to her twin's body. When she was within reach of her sister, Eileen stared. Part of her almost didn't believe what she was seeing. This was a trick. Lottie was good at playing tricks.

Except she promised to never scare Eileen again. Not after those long months when they were eight and she went off to some other world all alone. So this couldn't be a trick.

It was real.

Eileen reached out for the corner of the handkerchief. She wanted to see Lottie's face one last time. She wanted to know she was really, truly gone. Except when she lifted the corner, Sev's hand came down to hold her hand in place. She looked up to see her first glimpse of true agony.

"Her face is covered for a reason," he told her in a rough voice.

She let go of the handkerchief and turned her gaze to the sheet. It blocked her view of Lottie's neck. Eileen wanted to look there as well, but she knew Sev would stop her like with the handkerchief. When he had sat her, Essie, and Calliope down, Sev told them she died because her neck was broken in the fall.

So she reached down and under the sheet, feeling around where Lottie's hand should be until she found it.

She was startled at first. Eileen didn't think Lottie's hand would be so cold. If she hadn't been able to count each of her sister's fingers, feel the dips and rises of her palm, she wouldn't have believed it was one at all.

For a long time, she stared at her shrouded sister and thought about how to formulate her question. She needed to know where the locket was. The only one Lottie had ever shared it with was her.

Eileen didn't want her parents to open the locket and see her smiling face with their other-selves and Ren. It would make things worse, she just knew it. Lottie looked so happy with them. She fitted with their little family as well as she fitted with theirs and knowing if she'd just stayed there she might be alive instead right now would shatter them even more.

Keeping her fingers wrapped around Lottie's hand, she looked back at her dad. "Where's her riding cloak?" she asked.

Sev stared at her with a blank look. "Her cloak?" he said.

She nodded. "I don't want it," she told him. "She borrowed a bracelet from me today," lied Eileen. "I… I don't want it to get thrown out with her robe."

Her dad gave a heavy sigh. "I will get it," he said. Before leaving, he paused. "Do you wish to come with me?" he asked.

She shook her head at Sev. "No," she answered.

With that, Sev slipped behind the yellow-white curtains that hid them, hid Lottie, from the rest of the infirmary hall. With him gone, Eileen took back her hand from Lottie and turned to the sheet.

She pulled it back in one quick motion. Her short reprieve of numbness disappeared at the sight of her sister's neck. Eileen had never thought about what a broken neck might look like, but it was far worse than anything she could have pictured.

There was no locket around her throat

A wail was welling up in her and her shoulders shook, but Eileen bit down on her tongue until blood flooded her mouth. She couldn't cry now. Not with Lottie uncovered like this.

Hands barely able to keep their grip on the sheet, she lowered it back down over Lottie's neck. Then she did her best to smooth it back down around her so Sev wouldn't know. It wasn't perfect, but she prayed it wouldn't matter.

Lottie had to have put the locket in one of the pockets of her robes when she went flying.

Oh she hoped that was what happened. Lottie never went anywhere without it.

If it wasn't there… Eileen lifted her head and looked over the top of the curtain and out one of the infirmary's ceiling-high narrow windows. The locket would be somewhere out there. She'd need Edie's or Sev's wand to find it.

How would she get her hands on one? Or the time to slip away with it?

Eileen pressed her trembling hands together and brought them beneath her chin. Merlin, let it be in the cloak.

As she was in the midst of her turmoil, Sev returned.

She turned around and he frowned. "I should have made you come with me," he said.

She forced her hands apart and wiped off her face. He knew, or, rather, thought he knew what she had done in his absence. Eileen scowled. "I didn't look at her face," she bit out. "It just… it came back again…"

His expression told her he didn't believe Eileen in the slightest. However, he said nothing and instead turned his gaze to the cloak. His thumb was moving in small circles over the fabric where he held it between his hands. It was one of Lottie's favorites. It was a dark orange-yellow that was a shade too light to be called pumpkin. She loved it because it was big enough the hem dragged behind her, like the train of a wedding dress. Lottie used to say it made her feel like a princess.

Eileen privately thought it made her look like she was Essie's age. She'd never told Lottie because she knew her sister would never wear it again then. Lottie wanted to be older, she wanted to be a student and a teenager and a grownup all right now and that's why she always chased after Darla demanding they spend time together.

She was taken by a bitter, cruel thought at the reminder of her aunt. Why couldn't she be like other people's older siblings and cousins? Why couldn't she have bullied and pushed them away and called them little brats? Why did she play with Lottie like it was the most normal thing in the world when she was practically an adult?

If Darla was meaner… Would her sister still be alive?

Eileen, panicked by the thought, shoved it in a little box in her mind and hid it away somewhere she hoped to never find it again. It was wrong to think like that. It was too close to blaming Darla. Darla shouldn't be blamed. This was all Lottie's fault.

She always got herself into situations like this. Instead of being rescued like usual, though, she wasn't.

Now Lottie was dead.

Eileen thrust out her hand for the cloak. "Can I have it?" she asked.

Sev handed it over.

Putting her hands in the left pocket, she found nothing but lint. Eileen's heart began to hammer as she moved over to the right pocket. She sucked in a breath as she put her hand inside. Almost immediately she released the breath when her fingers felt the cool texture of a chain.

Wrapping her whole hand around it, she pulled it from the pocket and immediately shoved it in her robe's own pocket.

"Thanks," she said, handing back the cloak.

Sev nodded. "Perhaps we should bury her in this," he remarked. "She loved it, didn't she?"

Eileen swallowed. "Yeah," she whispered. "Lottie did."

Folding it up with care and precision, he lowered it to the end of Lottie's bed. "I will tell Poppy to not do anything with it," he said. Sev then held out his hand. "Now, come," he told Eileen. "We have been away from your mother, sisters, and Darla long enough."

She placed her hand in Sev's. Afterward, she could not help but stare at their joined hands.

It wasn't warm.

She looked up to question Sev and screamed.

The world had changed around her and she was no longer in the infirmary after Lottie's death. Eileen was in the damp, ugly Shrieking Shack. Her dad, who had stood tall beside her seconds before was now a corpse on the ground without a throat and browning, curdling blood coated his face and clothes.

He was dead. Dead like Lottie, like Albus Dumbledore, like Cedric Diggory, like all of her grandparents—

"Eileen!"

She came to with a strangled shout on her lips. Slowly, Eileen turned her head toward the source of the voice calling her name. She saw, next to her, was her husband Marcus. He had his head propped in his hand and was staring at her with sleep-rumpled hair and his gentle blue eyes.

"Marcus," Eileen whimpered.

He reached over and placed a warm, almost hot, hand on her cheek. "Hey," he murmured. "Bad dream?"

Sidling closer to him, Eileen only sighed when his hand drifted down from her cheek to her back where he began to trace small circles. "Something like that," she whispered into the silence.

Marcus hummed and continued his ministrations. "Go back to sleep," he urged. "I'll make sure you don't dream anymore."

Eileen closed her eyes. Marcus had never let her down before. She knew he wouldn't now either.

-o-O-o-

The promised playdate between Prajeet and Anthony came faster than Eileen expected. The Tuesday after their run-in in Scotland, the four of them were gathered in her family's garden. Eileen wasn't bothered. Apparently, Mr. Patil was frequently in and out of St. Mungos for some illness he had and so Sachin frequently stepped in to keep Prajeet for his grandparents.

She was a bit worried about Sachin. He looked overtired to her. (As if she were one to talk).

As Anthony and Prajeet ran up and down her garden in a game of chase, Eileen sipped on her mug of Ceylon tea and eyed her old housemate. His gaze was fixed on the pair, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"They get along well, don't you think?" he asked.

She hummed. "Anthony's always been a good-natured boy. From the time he was a baby, he's taken to strangers like old friends."

"Didn't have that stranger-danger phase, did he?"

Eileen pursed her lips in thought. "All children do," she said. "His phase wasn't very intense. He just liked to be friendly from mine or Marcus's arms."

"Darling," he replied with a smirk.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What of Prajeet?"

He cringed and locked his fingers behind his neck. "I don't really know," he admitted. "Just saw him for holidays and family gatherings before…" he trailed off and sighed, unlocking his fingers to wave a hand in the air. "You know." For the first time since he arrived, Sachin looked her in the eyes. "This is the freest I've seen him ever," he admitted. "He's typically very shy." A hesitant look crossed Sachin's face. "Would you mind if we do this playdate thing a bit more regularly?" he asked.

Eileen nodded. How could she not agree? She believed her old schoolmate about Prajeet. "Of course we can," she said as she looked out at the boys.

The pair had stopped running around a short time ago. Now they were crouched side by side just out of easy hearing range. Prajeet was saying something to an attentive Anthony as he rooted a stick around in a puddle from a pre-dawn rain shower.

Eileen looked on with wary amusement as Prajeet lifted the stick from the puddle with a wriggling worm on the end. The boy's face was bright as Anthony gave a joyous shout. Plucking the worm from the stick, Prajeet held it carefully in the palms of his two little hands.

He let Anthony touch the thing before closing his hands around it and trotting over to a nearby bush. Anthony followed close behind and watched just like her, like Sachin, as Prajeet lowered his hands to the grass and let the worm wriggle out of them.

The boy's attention then fell to them. Without so much as a second of pause, he ran to them. Clambering up into a stunned Sachin's lap, the boy babbled, "I saved it!" Little chest puffed out with pride, he said, "It was drowning."

Eileen hid a smile behind her hand as Sachin gave the four-year-old an awkward pat on his head. "Well done," he praised.

Prajeet's grin shined more than the sun as it peaked behind out from behind passing clouds.

-o-O-o-

Eileen and her family walked into Calliope and Marcus's kitchen to find the couple giggling in each other's arms.

"Aunt Calliope! Uncle George!" hollered her twins, galloping across the room to the couple. At the shouts of her children, the two broke apart with pink cheeks.

"Carrie, Marcus!" they gushed as Calliope grabbed Marcus in a hug while George swept Carrie off the ground to twirl with her. At a more sedate pace, Eileen and Marcus approached the two. In her hands was the couple's anniversary gift, in her husband's hands, Anthony.

When she reached the two, they had finished exchanging greetings with the twins and were now smiling at them in anticipation. Eileen returned their gazes with a grin. "Congratulations on five years, Calliope, George," she said as she held out their gift to them.

"Thank you, Eileen, Marcus," replied George as Calliope tore off the green paper Eileen had wrapped it in

Her sister's face lit up when she uncovered the cherrywood charcuterie board beneath "Oh my, this is a beautiful charcuterie board!" she gushed while running her fingers over the azurite inlay that streaked down the middle of the board "I can't wait to use this when your family comes over, George."

The wizard put an arm around Calliope's waist, a fond look in his eye. "It will be perfect," he agreed.

Calliope stepped away from her husband and drew Eileen into a half hug, then Marcus. "I'll put this away," she said to them. Turning back to George, she gestured with her free hand toward the dining room. "Show our guests the drink and snacks, please," she asked.

"Of course," he agreed. "This way," he said, taking a few steps in the direction of the next room.

"You don't have to George. We can see it," Marcus told the man, bypassing him to hurry after the twins who'd already taken off for the dining room when Calliope said "snacks". Eileen's husband chuckled and bounced their youngest, who was still sitting on his hip. "Come on Anthony. We'll set you up with a snack and then you can go find Thalia and Uncle Harry's lot."

Eileen smiled at George and fell into step with him. Together, they walked through the kitchen's wide doorway into the dining room. Just inside the dining room now, Eileen and George stopped. "How have you been, George?" she asked her brother-in-law while watching her husband and children. He was scolding their twins into making themselves plates to eat off of instead of straight from the serving platters like animals. "I haven't seen you since Thalia's birthday in March."

The man sighed, eye wide. "I know!" he exclaimed. Leaning against the doorframe, he said, "I'm doing well. We had a big case at work. We were paired up with the Aurors trying to break up a smuggling ring. They were using unauthorized portkeys to travel in and out of the country."

Smiling, George told Eileen, "Things on our side have wrapped up in the last week, though! Fay Dunbar, a witch from our department, and a couple of Aurors caught a bloke last week and so far, he has been plenty happy to rat out his partners to the Aurors to avoid Azkaban."

"Well done," replied Eileen.

"Thanks," he said. George looked over his shoulder and into the kitchen. "I'll talk to Calliope later, but I'd love to have dinner with you, Marcus, and the kids soon. It'd be nice to catch up just the four of us."

"We'd love that too," agreed Eileen. "I'll firecall Calliope in a few days if I don't hear from you by then."

"Brilliant," he said, beaming. He then snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Oh!" Expression earnest, he asked, "Hey, Eileen, how is that painting of Lottie going? Harry mentioned he saw you last month buying paints for it."

Eileen stilled. She didn't want to talk about how she'd been having nightmares. Or how she'd barely begun to even mix her paints for Lottie's portrait because of them. Not tonight. Not when they were supposed to be celebrating George and Calliope. "…You know how June is at my studio," she hedged. "I have been busy with commissions and new classes. I haven't had much time to work on it."

George's expression changed. "That's too bad," he said and Eileen resisted the urge to look away. Her brother-in-law's expression was scrutinizing and she was sure he didn't miss the tired look of her skin. "But I guess you aren't fretting yet, aye? There are six more months until January."

A small feeling of relief took her. He was going to let it go. "Yes, exactly."

George paused. Then, he reached out and took her forearm in a light hold. Eye kind, he said in a murmur, "Hey, you know if it ever becomes too much, we won't say anything, right?" He looked over in the kitchen, and so did Eileen.

Calliope appeared to have finished putting away the board and was now checking the food in the oven. Eileen wondered if she was doing it on purpose if she asked George to talk to her. It wasn't impossible, Calliope could be subtle and sneaky when she tried. Except… George seemed nervous himself. As if he didn't want Calliope to overhear them.

She was pulled back to the present when George squeezed her arm. "I know how hard this has to be for you," he said.

"Thank you, George," she said with a forced smile. "I'm fine."

He frowned at her. "We'd all understand if you weren't," he told her. George sighed and licked his lips, apparently giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. When he finished, he looked her directly in the eyes and said, "Look, if you don't want to talk to your sisters or Marcus, that's okay. I couldn't talk to Susan or Calliope either. I didn't want to hurt them."

George looked to the ceiling and admitted, with reluctance, "I… I've been seeing a bloke. He's a Muggle-born who went to Muggle university and became a psychologist. After the kids were born, I couldn't just be fine anymore. It was hard and I talked to some people who got me in contact with him. If you ever need the same, I can give you his information."

Eileen stared at first. She'd have never guessed he was talking to someone. George always came off as a sensible, organized person. Even when they were children he was good at bringing reason into emotionally charged moments. It startled her to find out he was not as in control as she believed.

Did he ever feel like he was drowning as everyone swam laps by him? Eileen shook her head. She was not going to ruin his anniversary. She was not so hard done by this one small, self-imposed task she needed to speak with someone.

"Thank you," she replied, placing a hand on top of his. She smiled as she squeezed his hand. "Really, I'm fine." Eileen paused, George didn't appear settled at her assurance. "But if I do need help, I'll speak with you," she promised.

George relaxed. "Okay," he agreed. "You're welcome."

Keeping her hand on George's, Eileen used it to guide him toward the dining room table where the snacks were laid out. As she did, she asked him,"George, will you tell me what you and Calliope made for us this evening?"

-o-O-o-

Eileen was tidying her studio of old teacups and palettes covered in dry paint when she was interrupted.

"Can I see the portrait?" asked her son, Marcus.

Eileen pursed her lips in confusion. Portrait? She hadn't been working on one this morning before they went to Calliope and George's anniversary party. She turned around her teacups in one hand, a palette in the other. Through an errant hair, she stared at her son. He was still in his outfit from the day, minus his robe and shoes.

"Sorry?" she said to him when he stared at her, expectant.

He frowned slightly. "The portrait of your sister," he elaborated for her, tone put out.

Eileen's hands gained a slight tremor. Damn. Marcus had heard her talking at the party with George, hadn't he? She didn't want to take it out. Not tonight. The nightmares had been getting too intense in the last month.

Walking closer to the doorway where her son stood, Eileen placed the cups and palette on an empty spot on the squat cabinet she kept to the right of the door. As she took her hands away, she saw there was still a noticeable tremor. Thinking quickly, she crossed her arms and hid her hands beneath her them as she turned to Marcus.

"It's not done," she hedged.

He cocked his head and gave her a confused look that must come naturally to anyone with the Belby brows. "You've been working on it for months though?" he replied.

She tried not to scowl. His questions were honest, little boy confusion, not an interrogation. "In my free time, not all of the time," she said.

"Oh," he said in a belated way that told Eileen he'd taken a moment to digest her answer first. Marcus smiled at her, hopeful and uncertain at once. "Can I still see what you have done?" he asked.

Eileen didn't have any reason to deny him, not really. So what if she had another night of poor sleep? It wasn't as if she was that inexperienced in functioning on less. She had only brought up three babies. Even so, she tried to weakly dissuade Marcus. "I'm not sure…"

"Please Mum!" he exclaimed, blue eyes, her eyes (Lottie's eyes) wide with pleading.

Eileen closed her eyes. "If you really want to…"

"I do," he hurried to tell her.

With that, Eileen turned back around and went to the rack she was keeping Lottie's portrait on for the time being. Pulling it out, she made sure to keep the cloth over it in place as she moved to place it in an open easel. Once it was settled, she stepped to the side and pulled off the cloth.

Staying in place she gestured at the painting as if she was presenting an exhibit to Marcus and declared, "This is it."

Marcus shuffled closer and closer until he was nearly nose-to-nose with Lottie's portrait. At one point, he lifted a hand as if he was going to touch her twin's likeness, but stopped himself before he did. Eileen almost smiled. It had been the one lesson she drilled into her children from the time she first brought them into her studio:

Don't touch the paintings!

Shoving his hand behind his back, Marcus locked it there with his other hand and continued his study for a few more seconds. Then, he turned to her, grinning broadly. "Oh wow, Aunt Esther is right," he said. "Aunt Lottie looks a whole lot like Carrie!"

She sighed. Eileen didn't like it but understood why her sister made the comparison so frequently. Her memory of Lottie at her oldest was as a girl of ten and Carrie was about that age now. In a few years, as Carried grew into her looks, it would be more obvious to everyone she was Eileen's daughter.

All the same, she corrected Marcus.

"Your sister looks like us," she told him. Turning finally to face the portrait, she stared at Lottie's portrait and felt her heart restrict in her chest. "That's how I looked at this age too," she murmured.

Marcus considered her with a pair of squinted eyes. "Do you think you and Aunt Lottie would still look the same now?"

Eileen rolled her eyes. Sometimes the questions her children asked were downright uninspired. "Of course," she said with a small huff. "We were each other's mirror."

Her son picked up on her feelings about his question and turned his squinted eyes into a glare that would have made his grandfather Sev proud. "She wouldn't have worn her hair different or gotten any scars?" he demanded.

She considered his new musings with more care than she had given his first question. Marcus might be right. If Lottie had lived to today, they probably wouldn't be the reflections they had been as girls. Lottie would have done something permanent at this point to differentiate them. "Knowing Lottie, she probably would have gotten a scar or two," Eileen admitted. She reached over and drew Marcus against her side. He leaned into her, accepting the affection easily. She began to run her finger through his overlong fringe. "She was a brave girl who liked to jump without looking first," explained Eileen.

Marcus laughed. "That sounds like Carrie."

"…Your sister reminds me of her too," Eileen whispered after a time. Most days, she tried not to think about the similarities between the two. It hurt making those comparisons and she wasn't sure it was healthy. Carrie was her own person and didn't need the shadows of a dead girl looming over her.

Marcus, unbothered by her quiet remark, turned his head and looked at her with a curious gaze. "Did you stop Aunt Lottie from being a dunderhead a lot too?"

Eileen hoped the sting she felt at his words didn't appear on her face. She had tried, over and over, to keep her sister safe. Yet too many times to count she had failed. The last time she had failed so badly Lottie died.

She forced herself to smile to obscure the way her lips trembled. "I tried when given the opportunity," she said.

Marcus returned her smile. "If they're alike, we're alike, aren't we, Mum?" he asked.

Her boy was far better than her. Marcus never let Carrie face trouble alone. Where she went, so did he. Eileen had never been there for Lottie like that.

All the same, she put a hand on her son's head and drew him close. He was her loveliest child and Eileen was convinced he would change lives one day. "Mh, we are," she said before kissing him on the temple.

"Mum, stop!" grumbled her son, squirming to get away from her lips. "I'm not a baby," he complained once he got a few centimeters of distance between them. As he wiped away her kiss, he said, "Go cuddle Anthony."

She chuckled and drew him back against her. Resting her chin on top of his head she murmured, "But he's so far and you're right here." Squeezing him a little tighter, she asked, "Let me hug you, won't you?"

He stilled in his fidgeting and leaned back against her. "Ugh. Fine."

They lapsed into silence for a while and just stared together at Lottie's unfinished portrait. Eileen may be biased, but she believed the painting was well on its way to being one of her best. Lottie and Edie deserved no less.

"Mum?" said Marcus, pulling her from her musings. She raised her brows at the boy, prompting him to continue. "Do you get scared for Carrie?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered without hesitation. Eileen didn't mind admitting to this weakness. It was one all mothers had. "I get scared for all of you," she went on. "You're my children."

Marcus appeared to struggle with his next words. When he spoke again, it was in a halting manner. "It's just… She's like Lottie?"

Eileen wanted to sigh. She didn't. "Your sister is like Lottie, but she is also her own person," she explained, asserting the mantra she told herself almost daily now.

A valley formed between her son's brows. "You won't let her on a broom."

"I won't let any of you on a broom, you mean," she corrected, hugging him a bit tighter as she did. "As much as I know you three are your own people, I will never let you on one. It's dangerous even for the most experienced fliers and this is a small way I can protect you. At Hogwarts, you'll get a chance to fly and I know you won't do any crazy stunts because the flying instructor deducts points for that."

Marcus's valley deepened into a canyon. "What if I don't ever want to fly?"

Eileen did not let it show how happy she was to hear her son say those words. He was barely ten and could easily change his mind when it came time for him to go to Hogwarts. "You don't have to," she told him.

His expression turned into one of surprise. "I don't?" he replied. "Won't I get in trouble?"

She shook her head. "Sev never made any of us girls fly. He told us we could get Troll grades in flying and he wouldn't care a whit." She kissed her boy one more time on the top of his head. "All Sev wanted was for us to be safe."

"Oh," he said. He cocked his head and asked, "Did any of you fly at Hogwarts?"

"Calliope did a little," Eileen answered. "She was so young when Lottie died…" she mused. "I think it was easier, in a way, for her to be convinced to give flying a try. The memories of Lottie's accident weren't so recent or vivid like they were for me and your Aunt Esther." She tightened her hold on Marcus and said, "I know your Aunt Calliope still doesn't fly often."

"I wasn't there when Aunt Lottie died, but I've decided I don't want to fly," proclaimed Marcus, square jaw firm. "Even if the flying instructor's the best in all of the world, I could still get hurt! I don't want to scare you or make you sad 'cause I had a flying accident, Mum."

Eileen couldn't stop herself. She all but squeezed the life out of her son and began to pepper him with kisses. "My sweet," she crooned as he wriggled and whined.

"Ew, Mum!" he yelled as he finally broke from her hold.

She grinned. "Sorry," said Eileen without meaning it.

He rolled his eyes. Then, his expression troubled, whispered, "I think Carrie will want to fly."

Eileen's smile ran from her face. "I know."

Marcus started to wring his hands, anxious. "I'll tell her off if she's not being safe, okay?" he said. "She needs to remember you'll be gutted if she gets hurt."

She knew she should tell him his sister's safety did not lay on his shoulder. It would be the right thing to do. Except Eileen couldn't do it. Carrie at times was just careless enough she was afraid without a spotter, she would be lost to her like Lottie had been.

"Thank you, Marcus," she said. She reached over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Now, I think it's time you go get ready for bed," she said as she led him out of her studio. In the hall, she mock-chided him, "You need to be under your covers in fifteen minutes!"

Playing along, he gave her an exaggerated pout. "Aw, okay…"

Smirking, Eileen told him, "I'll come to kiss you goodnight soon."

"All right," he agreed happily before scampering off to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.

How did you enjoy the chapter? The beginning with Eileen's memory/nightmare? The anniversary party and her convo with George?

Thanks for reading!