The morning was cold as the sun finally began to rise behind the
trees. A heavy mist was raising off the still water, making the opposite
bank seem fuzzy. The call of a lone bird disturbed the early morning
silence and the cicada's song. The water of the large pond gently lapped at
the wooden stills of the dock and the forest around it stilled as three new
creatures approached, their feet quietly padding across the wood.
"Be quiet now" Jack instructed the children.
We ARE being quiet, Daddy! his daughter answered silently. The comment was weak, comparatively speaking, but it was there none the less. Jack looked down at the blonde head who was just now reaching his side ahead of her brother, who was pulling their equipment along behind. Were their mother there, she would have been worrying about eyes in the trees, but, thankfully, this kind of outing wasn't her "thing". He rolled his eyes at the signs of himself in the young girl. What had he done to deserve himself?
"Where should I put it all, Dad?" the boy asked, and now Jack had the visual proof of his fatherhood for there was no doubting Ricky was Jack's son, even at 8 years old. Were Jack to search through his mother's household and find pictures of himself at that age he knew no one would be able to tell if it were truly Jack, or if it was his mini self. It was, in fact, hard to see his mother in the boy.
Not so, his twin sister. Amanda looked exactly like her mother. If Richard was Jack's mini me, then Amanda was Sam's. Thankfully, both children had combating streaks of their parents infused into their personalities, so that while they often did Jackish or Samish things, they were very much personas unto themselves. They shared aspects of an odd childhood with their elder sister, making them both more mature than perhaps any 8 year olds had a right to be. They had heavy responsibilities resting on their twin shoulders, but as their sister was quick to point out, at least they could share the burdens, unlike her.
Today, though, they had shed their responsibilities to reveal the light hearted, happy children they were inside. Today, they were going fishing with their dad.
"Okay, don't step on the poles!" he cautioned as he opened the tackle box and pulled out a lure. Ricky had set a chair up for him and he sat so they could get a better look while he showed them how to tie the right kind of knot. After carefully observing and asking a question or two, they each selected their own lures and bent to the task of securing them on the end of their line. Jack watched proudly as they accomplished the task with little effort.
"Okay, now, when you cast, you put your finger here" he adjusted so they could see, "And you flip this little thing up" He gave a low running commentary as he let the line go and flung it out into the water where the lure landed with a little bob and a ripple. Ricky tried first, getting the lure out a good distance on his second try and plopping down on the dock, his bare feet hanging over the edge. Jack pondered if the boy had used his unique power, but discarded the idea. He just a natural knack for physical things.
His sister on the other hand, was not quite the natural and it took quite a few times before she finally got the hang of casting properly. Jack stood behind her, moving her hands into the right place, his arms around hers as she pulled back and let go. It reminded him of a similar scene, one that took place years and years ago, with a very different child. The memory didn't bring the pain it had in years gone past. Somehow, teaching these two, helping them grow and learn, seemed to carry Charlie on. It was like honoring him somehow, in a way Jack had never considered before. But it felt good. It felt right.
When his daughter had taken a seat beside her brother, who had kindly not said a word about her apparent ineptness at something he did so easily, Jack took his own seat. He found his line had gone slack and had to recast, then settled back into his chair to await a bite he didn't really expect to come. The morning sun had by that time burnt off the last remnants of mist, but the air was still cool and he found himself appreciating the hot chocolat Sam had put into a thermos for them. The quiet morning went on, Jack and Ricky occasionally recasting and Amanda discarding her complicated pole for a long stick with a notch Jack put in the end for the line.
"Daddy, what if I catch a fish?" she asked a little later on. He could hear the reflexive repulsion in her voice. Being a telepath, she could hardly stand to be around dieing things. He doubted she could really inflict pain on any living thing intentionally.
"If you get a bite, just be still and it'll take your worm" he comforted her, "And if it gets caught, we'll get Ricky to get it off and put it back in the water" Ricky nodded to comfirm his fathers words and put his sister back at ease.
Hours later, none of them having caught a thing, or exchanged more than 10 words at a time, they pulled their poles out of the water. The sun was reaching up to it's peak point in the sky, and was pouring hot beams down on them. Luckily, only a nice warmth on their backs reached through the trees and past the calm breeze that blew over the pond and into their faces. A sudden crack had them turning to see what had broken the branch. A figure stood, a mere silluette against the bright sun down the lane. It was getting closer. When it was only a few feet away, they saw it had a basket in one hand. They all turned back to pulling the empty lures of their rods and stowing them carefully back in the tackle box. The figure stopped just behind them on the dock. Ricky looked up.
"You're late" he said simply.
"She got held up" Amanda informed him. The figure smiled pleasantly at her father's curious eyebrows and shook her head.
Later she told him. "Hey, I brought lunch" she said aloud and started pulling food out of the basket. Jack smiled at his oldest daughter, nearly twenty-five years. She caught his look and smiled, a beautiful radiant smile. And he was content.
"Be quiet now" Jack instructed the children.
We ARE being quiet, Daddy! his daughter answered silently. The comment was weak, comparatively speaking, but it was there none the less. Jack looked down at the blonde head who was just now reaching his side ahead of her brother, who was pulling their equipment along behind. Were their mother there, she would have been worrying about eyes in the trees, but, thankfully, this kind of outing wasn't her "thing". He rolled his eyes at the signs of himself in the young girl. What had he done to deserve himself?
"Where should I put it all, Dad?" the boy asked, and now Jack had the visual proof of his fatherhood for there was no doubting Ricky was Jack's son, even at 8 years old. Were Jack to search through his mother's household and find pictures of himself at that age he knew no one would be able to tell if it were truly Jack, or if it was his mini self. It was, in fact, hard to see his mother in the boy.
Not so, his twin sister. Amanda looked exactly like her mother. If Richard was Jack's mini me, then Amanda was Sam's. Thankfully, both children had combating streaks of their parents infused into their personalities, so that while they often did Jackish or Samish things, they were very much personas unto themselves. They shared aspects of an odd childhood with their elder sister, making them both more mature than perhaps any 8 year olds had a right to be. They had heavy responsibilities resting on their twin shoulders, but as their sister was quick to point out, at least they could share the burdens, unlike her.
Today, though, they had shed their responsibilities to reveal the light hearted, happy children they were inside. Today, they were going fishing with their dad.
"Okay, don't step on the poles!" he cautioned as he opened the tackle box and pulled out a lure. Ricky had set a chair up for him and he sat so they could get a better look while he showed them how to tie the right kind of knot. After carefully observing and asking a question or two, they each selected their own lures and bent to the task of securing them on the end of their line. Jack watched proudly as they accomplished the task with little effort.
"Okay, now, when you cast, you put your finger here" he adjusted so they could see, "And you flip this little thing up" He gave a low running commentary as he let the line go and flung it out into the water where the lure landed with a little bob and a ripple. Ricky tried first, getting the lure out a good distance on his second try and plopping down on the dock, his bare feet hanging over the edge. Jack pondered if the boy had used his unique power, but discarded the idea. He just a natural knack for physical things.
His sister on the other hand, was not quite the natural and it took quite a few times before she finally got the hang of casting properly. Jack stood behind her, moving her hands into the right place, his arms around hers as she pulled back and let go. It reminded him of a similar scene, one that took place years and years ago, with a very different child. The memory didn't bring the pain it had in years gone past. Somehow, teaching these two, helping them grow and learn, seemed to carry Charlie on. It was like honoring him somehow, in a way Jack had never considered before. But it felt good. It felt right.
When his daughter had taken a seat beside her brother, who had kindly not said a word about her apparent ineptness at something he did so easily, Jack took his own seat. He found his line had gone slack and had to recast, then settled back into his chair to await a bite he didn't really expect to come. The morning sun had by that time burnt off the last remnants of mist, but the air was still cool and he found himself appreciating the hot chocolat Sam had put into a thermos for them. The quiet morning went on, Jack and Ricky occasionally recasting and Amanda discarding her complicated pole for a long stick with a notch Jack put in the end for the line.
"Daddy, what if I catch a fish?" she asked a little later on. He could hear the reflexive repulsion in her voice. Being a telepath, she could hardly stand to be around dieing things. He doubted she could really inflict pain on any living thing intentionally.
"If you get a bite, just be still and it'll take your worm" he comforted her, "And if it gets caught, we'll get Ricky to get it off and put it back in the water" Ricky nodded to comfirm his fathers words and put his sister back at ease.
Hours later, none of them having caught a thing, or exchanged more than 10 words at a time, they pulled their poles out of the water. The sun was reaching up to it's peak point in the sky, and was pouring hot beams down on them. Luckily, only a nice warmth on their backs reached through the trees and past the calm breeze that blew over the pond and into their faces. A sudden crack had them turning to see what had broken the branch. A figure stood, a mere silluette against the bright sun down the lane. It was getting closer. When it was only a few feet away, they saw it had a basket in one hand. They all turned back to pulling the empty lures of their rods and stowing them carefully back in the tackle box. The figure stopped just behind them on the dock. Ricky looked up.
"You're late" he said simply.
"She got held up" Amanda informed him. The figure smiled pleasantly at her father's curious eyebrows and shook her head.
Later she told him. "Hey, I brought lunch" she said aloud and started pulling food out of the basket. Jack smiled at his oldest daughter, nearly twenty-five years. She caught his look and smiled, a beautiful radiant smile. And he was content.
