Dad always had these horrible nightmares that would cause him to shake and
cry until the sun rose and cast light through his window. When I was little
and came to investigate the noise, he'd let me crawl into bed with him and
snuggle under the covers, keeping me warm and safe. As I got older and the
nightmares didn't cease, I'd watch him battle his demons until he was
jerked back into consciousness and then I'd simply hold his hand until he
managed to fall back asleep. Before he died he confessed that my mere
presence was so soothing that he didn't notice the transfer from nightmare
to quiet sleep. I reasoned it was because I looked so much like my mother,
which was the cause of his nightmares. Dad was lucky. He had a miniature
Mom. I have no one.
Crust rimmed her eyes, cracking as she opened them in the soft morning light. Warmth surrounded her, warmth she had never before felt. It was the embrace of a mother, and Kate reveled in it. Cindy's arms were comforting and healing, just what she needed. The song that lingered in her mind still seemed familiar, one she heard as a baby perhaps. One Mom sang to me.
Cindy had woken a while ago, disturbed by the night's events. The song that she sang to calm Kate was something she didn't recognize, couldn't remember learning. There were a lot of things she couldn't remember, her entire childhood, adolescence, her parents, but she had learned to deal with it. Her aunt had helped her through it, and then John once she met him. Now her aunt was dead and she didn't have any one to turn to for answers. Feeling Kate shift in her arms, she smiled down on the disoriented teenager.
"Good morning. Feel any better?"
Thoughts and images from the night before bombarded her in waves, and all she could do was shake her head. Gently squeezing her, Cindy tried to relieve some of the pain, take away the memories, and finally Kate managed to choke out, "I've never had a nightmare like that before." Only Dad had those kinds of nightmares.
Urging Kate to continue she rubbed soothing circles on her arms. "What happened?"
Not letting the tears escape by sniffing she only replied, "I saw them both die."
At a loss for words, Cindy could only wonder at the connection she felt with Kate at that moment. Even though she had cared for countless children, none of them entered her heart the way this broken hearted girl had. Pain emanated from her and its all Cindy could do not to stay and hold her until all the fear and hurt went away.
Silence fell over and they stayed in their position for a few minutes, until the grandfather clock downstairs chimed and Cindy remembered that Wesley needed to go to school. Slowly she untangled herself from Kate, and slid off the bed. Before she left the room, she turned around and asked her, "Would you like to come to the library with me today? I couldn't help but notice how tattered your copy of To Kill A Mockingbird is, a symbol of an avid reader. I'm a librarian, I know."
The bed was so comforting and she was still so disoriented that Kate almost wanted to say no. Seeing her indecision, Cindy quickly added, "After I take Wesley to school, though, so if you do want to go, just be ready to leave in about an hour." With that she left, taking all the comfort and security with her down the hall. I've only felt that safe with Dad.
To her surprise, it was actually easy to get out of bed and stumble to the shower after she reminded herself that her dad wouldn't want her sitting in bed in all day doing nothing. He was always ready to go somewhere and do something, not one of those dads that sat on the couch and drank beer all day. In fact, the only time he ever really watched TV was for the hockey games. Besides that, he would always drag Kate outside to do yard work or go skating with him.
Looking outside to the still falling snow, she sighed wistfully. No yard work here, besides shoveling snow. She polished the picture frame carefully, a daily ritual that she hadn't skipped a day since she got it. Quickly checking to see if her family picture was tucked snugly against her body and tugging her charm out of her sweater, she left the room. My bedroom.
Cindy was waiting for her in the kitchen, nursing a steaming cup of tea and gazing outside. Almost loathe interrupting her, Kate tip toed across the wooden floorboards until she reached the marble island and poured herself a cup of tea. Smiling at her arrival Cindy spoke, "Today is Wesley's last day before Winter Break. He wanted to stay home and show you around, but I told him that you wouldn't see much with all this snow. Then again, that boy is always trying to get out of going to school."
The tea still burned her tongue after blowing on it for a while, but Kate continued to sip it anyway. The physical pain was almost a relief after the emotional turmoil she'd been through in past twenty-four hours, and although she would never cut herself, the accident was welcome.
The library was empty which wasn't surprising considering the schools were still in session, and she reveled in the silent solitude. Running her fingers lightly over the dusted volumes, Kate recognized titles from her father's collection that was sold off with the rest of their belongings. Wuthering Heights.Dad always said that was Mom's favorite. Her hand pulled it off involuntarily, and she spent the next few hours familiarizing herself with Catherine and Heathcliff until someone bumped into her chair and broke the novel's spell.
Books were splayed across the floor in front of her, and she bent down to help the girl scrambling to gather them back into her arms. She wore her black hair in braided pigtails, and her smile took over her whole face. "Thanks," she said breathlessly as Kate piled another book into her arms.
"No problem." First contact of someone other than her foster family. Someone from Watertown that looked to be her age, and no words came to her mind to continue the conversation. Luckily, the girl seemed to notice her hesitation, and smiled even wider.
"Hi, I'm Hannah. I know I haven't seen you in Watertown, because I know everyone here. Are you living with John and Cindy?" The words came out rushed, and Kate couldn't help but return the smile.
"I'm Kate. Kate Craig. And yea, I'm living with John and Cindy." Kate couldn't help but notice the way Hannah never seemed to be still, bouncing on the balls of her feet and popping some gum noisily.
Hannah stuck out her hand to shake Kate's and the books fell on her feet. They both laughed at the clumsy gesture and this time they put the books on a nearby table. The titles didn't stand out to Kate, so she opened a book cover to investigate further. "The Witches of Eileann? You like Fantasy books?"
Smacking her gum, Hannah picked up another book. "Yea! I love Fantasy. magic, witches, quests, different gods and dragons. fantasy just has so much, you know? I mean, the classics are great, The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite books of all time, but magic takes you somewhere people can only dream about."
Gently shutting the book Kate thought about her own preferences. Classic literature was something she read a lot, but she wasn't sure she had a favorite genre. One thing Kate loved about reading was her ability to tell if she would like a book by the third chapter. She always knew that if it didn't appeal to her by then, it never would. Dad said Mom was like that too.
Silence was something that Hannah obviously didn't like, because she kept chattering. It didn't bother Kate at all, she was finally interacting with someone her own age, and it felt wonderfully refreshing.
"So where are you from? I hear an accent.wait.don't tell me. It's not Arkansas, cause the twang isn't right. My cousins from Louisiana, and you don't sound a bit like her. Texas or Oklahoma?"
"Texas. You're pretty good at that."
Hannah sighed dreamily. "I love languages, and I have since I was little. Good thing my parents caught on, cause I got tutors for four different languages by the time I was five."
This caught Kate's interest. Languages intrigued her, but her dad had insisted she only take Spanish. Now she figured it had something to do with her mystery heritage. "What's your favorite?"
"French, it's difficult, but it sounds wonderful"
"Really? Because I wanted to take French, but my dad said Spanish would help me more, so I took it."
Hannah gave her an extremely odd look, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd said something wrong. Eyes wide with curiosity, Hannah leaned in towards Kate. "How'd you know what I said?"
Taken back, she replied, "You said French was difficult, but it sounds great. Why are you so shocked that I know English?"
Her mouth was open now, and Hannah pulled carelessly on a pigtail. "I said it in French."
Shock flooded every part of Kate's body. How the hell do I know French? How the hell did I not know I knew it? Her eyes unfocused as she realized all the times her dad's voice seemed to change, and it would take on an almost melodious pitch. It had done that as long as she could remember. Did Dad speak it? And if he did, why didn't he tell me?
"Hey, are you ok?" Hannah's hand waving in front of her face brought her back to reality, and Kate struggled with her thoughts. To think that she had known French her whole life and not known that she'd known it was mind blowing, and it was proof that her Dad hid things from her. The name Vaughn sounded French in her mind, but at that moment O'Brien would have sounded French.
Shaking her head, she responded slowly, "Yea, I'm fine. It's weird, I understood that, but I've never taken French."
Hannah dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "French is a lot like Spanish in some ways. Maybe it's something you heard somewhere. Who knows? So are you starting school after winter break? It would make sense, cause that's when second semester starts, but maybe you want to get to know the place a little." Again, her words were running together, but Kate was able to follow quite easily.
"Yea, I'm starting after break. Does it always snow this much?"
Taking a glance out a window, Hannah shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Sometimes. It's normal for this time a year. Februarys a bitch though, cause everything gets covered with ice, which is like, five times worse than snow." She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Oh man. My mom's going to kill me. I said I'd take five minutes, I've been in here fifteen." Grabbing her books, she yelled, "Nice to meet you Kate! See you at school!" over her shoulder as she practically ran outside.
After Hannah's departure, the library was too quiet, and her mind began to wander over to her dad's letter. Taking out the picture of her family, she looked at it with a thousand questions. Is Mom's name really Sydney? Who would do this to my family?
***
The next week went excruciatingly slow, even though Wesley was home. She spent the days getting to know him and the whole Cross routine, which was obvious to her within two days. John would get up at five thirty, shower, and Cindy would have his coffee ready by six thirty. When she got up, breakfast was waiting, which was usually about eight thirty. Wesley always joined them at nine, and John was always gone before she rolled out of bed.
From what Kate saw, Cindy was completely happy with the domesticity, and John never seemed to be the sixties father type. He and Wesley were extremely close, and they would spend the evenings going through boxes of old baseball cards. She and Cindy formed a bond that was unexplainable to either, but they both spent at least an hour a day talking about books, which Kate found utterly refreshing, considering that none of her friends shared her love for them.
One particular night Kate fell asleep on her copy of The Catcher in the Rye, and she was woken by a soft voice whispering her name. Raising her head from the pillow her arms created, her fuzzy morning vision saw her mother crouching down by her desk and lightly touching her arm. "Mom?' she whispered sleepily, and once she rubbed her eyes, she realized that it was Cindy, and not her mom.
"Kate, wake up. We're going somewhere." Complying slowly, eyes blinking in the morning light, she rose from the desk. It was luck that she had fallen asleep fully clothed, because if Cindy requested that she dress, Kate would have needed a nice long shower and some tea. Obviously Cindy knew her pretty well, she handed her a steaming mug as they made their way to the car.
Sipping it slowly, knowing how hot Cindy always made it, she barely noticed that Wesley had joined them, and they were taking a different route when they normally traveled. Cindy had thought ahead and piled jackets inside the van, as well as gloves and a couple beanies. If Kate had been alert, she would have wondered why they needed it, but in her sleepy state she waved it off.
They stopped twenty minutes later in front of a gleaming white building, and they all bundled up before venturing outside the heated van. Wesley took her hand excitedly, and practically dragged her through the door. The air inside was only a little warmer than outside, and Kate's eyes widened as she realized where they were.
Walking slowly over to the glass, she pressed her hand up against it as she watched a lone skater figure eight across the ice. Her heart pumped loudly, and she felt the urge to pull on her skates and scratch the hell out of the ice.
Cindy and Wesley came up behind her, and Cindy placed something heavy against her. Kate looked down at her old figure skates, worn from use but still pretty new. Her eyes instantly filled up as she took them and held them to her body.
Unable to contain his excitement, Wesley blurted, "We found you a coach so you can practice!" Her eyes snapped to Cindy to confirm this, and when she nodded, Kate could only open her mouth in shock. She had expected to never skate again, or never as a sport. Putting on the skates in a near daze, her fingers trembled over the laces. The woman doing figure eights came off the ice to embrace Cindy warmly, and she approached Kate with a smile. "I'm Olivia Johnson. If things work out right, I may be your coach." Her handshake was warm, but firm, which gave Kate the impression that she was nice, but strict. "I know you don't have appropriate practice clothes, but can I see what you can do without them?"
So, before Kate was even really aware of it, she was on the ice warming up. Her heart felt a tug as she remembered her dads warm up, one he did before every practice without fail. The ice welcomed her, and for the first time, she felt right at home.
Cindy and Wesley found some creaky bleachers and sat down with care to watch Kate's skill. Just warming up she looked professional, her face lit with a huge smile. A large machine caught the boy's eye, and he pointed it out to his mother.
"Hey Mom, what's that?"
Cindy smiled at his curiosity. "That's a zamboni. They smooth out the ice so skaters don't trip over the holes their skates make." Her breath caught in her throat as a conversation filled her head.
"I love the zamboni"
"The zambonis your favorite part?"
"No, coming home with you after the game is my favorite part."
Wesley watched in concern as she gasped, and touched her army gently. "Mom, are you ok?"
Eyes wide with fear, all she could do was nod.
Crust rimmed her eyes, cracking as she opened them in the soft morning light. Warmth surrounded her, warmth she had never before felt. It was the embrace of a mother, and Kate reveled in it. Cindy's arms were comforting and healing, just what she needed. The song that lingered in her mind still seemed familiar, one she heard as a baby perhaps. One Mom sang to me.
Cindy had woken a while ago, disturbed by the night's events. The song that she sang to calm Kate was something she didn't recognize, couldn't remember learning. There were a lot of things she couldn't remember, her entire childhood, adolescence, her parents, but she had learned to deal with it. Her aunt had helped her through it, and then John once she met him. Now her aunt was dead and she didn't have any one to turn to for answers. Feeling Kate shift in her arms, she smiled down on the disoriented teenager.
"Good morning. Feel any better?"
Thoughts and images from the night before bombarded her in waves, and all she could do was shake her head. Gently squeezing her, Cindy tried to relieve some of the pain, take away the memories, and finally Kate managed to choke out, "I've never had a nightmare like that before." Only Dad had those kinds of nightmares.
Urging Kate to continue she rubbed soothing circles on her arms. "What happened?"
Not letting the tears escape by sniffing she only replied, "I saw them both die."
At a loss for words, Cindy could only wonder at the connection she felt with Kate at that moment. Even though she had cared for countless children, none of them entered her heart the way this broken hearted girl had. Pain emanated from her and its all Cindy could do not to stay and hold her until all the fear and hurt went away.
Silence fell over and they stayed in their position for a few minutes, until the grandfather clock downstairs chimed and Cindy remembered that Wesley needed to go to school. Slowly she untangled herself from Kate, and slid off the bed. Before she left the room, she turned around and asked her, "Would you like to come to the library with me today? I couldn't help but notice how tattered your copy of To Kill A Mockingbird is, a symbol of an avid reader. I'm a librarian, I know."
The bed was so comforting and she was still so disoriented that Kate almost wanted to say no. Seeing her indecision, Cindy quickly added, "After I take Wesley to school, though, so if you do want to go, just be ready to leave in about an hour." With that she left, taking all the comfort and security with her down the hall. I've only felt that safe with Dad.
To her surprise, it was actually easy to get out of bed and stumble to the shower after she reminded herself that her dad wouldn't want her sitting in bed in all day doing nothing. He was always ready to go somewhere and do something, not one of those dads that sat on the couch and drank beer all day. In fact, the only time he ever really watched TV was for the hockey games. Besides that, he would always drag Kate outside to do yard work or go skating with him.
Looking outside to the still falling snow, she sighed wistfully. No yard work here, besides shoveling snow. She polished the picture frame carefully, a daily ritual that she hadn't skipped a day since she got it. Quickly checking to see if her family picture was tucked snugly against her body and tugging her charm out of her sweater, she left the room. My bedroom.
Cindy was waiting for her in the kitchen, nursing a steaming cup of tea and gazing outside. Almost loathe interrupting her, Kate tip toed across the wooden floorboards until she reached the marble island and poured herself a cup of tea. Smiling at her arrival Cindy spoke, "Today is Wesley's last day before Winter Break. He wanted to stay home and show you around, but I told him that you wouldn't see much with all this snow. Then again, that boy is always trying to get out of going to school."
The tea still burned her tongue after blowing on it for a while, but Kate continued to sip it anyway. The physical pain was almost a relief after the emotional turmoil she'd been through in past twenty-four hours, and although she would never cut herself, the accident was welcome.
The library was empty which wasn't surprising considering the schools were still in session, and she reveled in the silent solitude. Running her fingers lightly over the dusted volumes, Kate recognized titles from her father's collection that was sold off with the rest of their belongings. Wuthering Heights.Dad always said that was Mom's favorite. Her hand pulled it off involuntarily, and she spent the next few hours familiarizing herself with Catherine and Heathcliff until someone bumped into her chair and broke the novel's spell.
Books were splayed across the floor in front of her, and she bent down to help the girl scrambling to gather them back into her arms. She wore her black hair in braided pigtails, and her smile took over her whole face. "Thanks," she said breathlessly as Kate piled another book into her arms.
"No problem." First contact of someone other than her foster family. Someone from Watertown that looked to be her age, and no words came to her mind to continue the conversation. Luckily, the girl seemed to notice her hesitation, and smiled even wider.
"Hi, I'm Hannah. I know I haven't seen you in Watertown, because I know everyone here. Are you living with John and Cindy?" The words came out rushed, and Kate couldn't help but return the smile.
"I'm Kate. Kate Craig. And yea, I'm living with John and Cindy." Kate couldn't help but notice the way Hannah never seemed to be still, bouncing on the balls of her feet and popping some gum noisily.
Hannah stuck out her hand to shake Kate's and the books fell on her feet. They both laughed at the clumsy gesture and this time they put the books on a nearby table. The titles didn't stand out to Kate, so she opened a book cover to investigate further. "The Witches of Eileann? You like Fantasy books?"
Smacking her gum, Hannah picked up another book. "Yea! I love Fantasy. magic, witches, quests, different gods and dragons. fantasy just has so much, you know? I mean, the classics are great, The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite books of all time, but magic takes you somewhere people can only dream about."
Gently shutting the book Kate thought about her own preferences. Classic literature was something she read a lot, but she wasn't sure she had a favorite genre. One thing Kate loved about reading was her ability to tell if she would like a book by the third chapter. She always knew that if it didn't appeal to her by then, it never would. Dad said Mom was like that too.
Silence was something that Hannah obviously didn't like, because she kept chattering. It didn't bother Kate at all, she was finally interacting with someone her own age, and it felt wonderfully refreshing.
"So where are you from? I hear an accent.wait.don't tell me. It's not Arkansas, cause the twang isn't right. My cousins from Louisiana, and you don't sound a bit like her. Texas or Oklahoma?"
"Texas. You're pretty good at that."
Hannah sighed dreamily. "I love languages, and I have since I was little. Good thing my parents caught on, cause I got tutors for four different languages by the time I was five."
This caught Kate's interest. Languages intrigued her, but her dad had insisted she only take Spanish. Now she figured it had something to do with her mystery heritage. "What's your favorite?"
"French, it's difficult, but it sounds wonderful"
"Really? Because I wanted to take French, but my dad said Spanish would help me more, so I took it."
Hannah gave her an extremely odd look, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd said something wrong. Eyes wide with curiosity, Hannah leaned in towards Kate. "How'd you know what I said?"
Taken back, she replied, "You said French was difficult, but it sounds great. Why are you so shocked that I know English?"
Her mouth was open now, and Hannah pulled carelessly on a pigtail. "I said it in French."
Shock flooded every part of Kate's body. How the hell do I know French? How the hell did I not know I knew it? Her eyes unfocused as she realized all the times her dad's voice seemed to change, and it would take on an almost melodious pitch. It had done that as long as she could remember. Did Dad speak it? And if he did, why didn't he tell me?
"Hey, are you ok?" Hannah's hand waving in front of her face brought her back to reality, and Kate struggled with her thoughts. To think that she had known French her whole life and not known that she'd known it was mind blowing, and it was proof that her Dad hid things from her. The name Vaughn sounded French in her mind, but at that moment O'Brien would have sounded French.
Shaking her head, she responded slowly, "Yea, I'm fine. It's weird, I understood that, but I've never taken French."
Hannah dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "French is a lot like Spanish in some ways. Maybe it's something you heard somewhere. Who knows? So are you starting school after winter break? It would make sense, cause that's when second semester starts, but maybe you want to get to know the place a little." Again, her words were running together, but Kate was able to follow quite easily.
"Yea, I'm starting after break. Does it always snow this much?"
Taking a glance out a window, Hannah shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Sometimes. It's normal for this time a year. Februarys a bitch though, cause everything gets covered with ice, which is like, five times worse than snow." She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Oh man. My mom's going to kill me. I said I'd take five minutes, I've been in here fifteen." Grabbing her books, she yelled, "Nice to meet you Kate! See you at school!" over her shoulder as she practically ran outside.
After Hannah's departure, the library was too quiet, and her mind began to wander over to her dad's letter. Taking out the picture of her family, she looked at it with a thousand questions. Is Mom's name really Sydney? Who would do this to my family?
***
The next week went excruciatingly slow, even though Wesley was home. She spent the days getting to know him and the whole Cross routine, which was obvious to her within two days. John would get up at five thirty, shower, and Cindy would have his coffee ready by six thirty. When she got up, breakfast was waiting, which was usually about eight thirty. Wesley always joined them at nine, and John was always gone before she rolled out of bed.
From what Kate saw, Cindy was completely happy with the domesticity, and John never seemed to be the sixties father type. He and Wesley were extremely close, and they would spend the evenings going through boxes of old baseball cards. She and Cindy formed a bond that was unexplainable to either, but they both spent at least an hour a day talking about books, which Kate found utterly refreshing, considering that none of her friends shared her love for them.
One particular night Kate fell asleep on her copy of The Catcher in the Rye, and she was woken by a soft voice whispering her name. Raising her head from the pillow her arms created, her fuzzy morning vision saw her mother crouching down by her desk and lightly touching her arm. "Mom?' she whispered sleepily, and once she rubbed her eyes, she realized that it was Cindy, and not her mom.
"Kate, wake up. We're going somewhere." Complying slowly, eyes blinking in the morning light, she rose from the desk. It was luck that she had fallen asleep fully clothed, because if Cindy requested that she dress, Kate would have needed a nice long shower and some tea. Obviously Cindy knew her pretty well, she handed her a steaming mug as they made their way to the car.
Sipping it slowly, knowing how hot Cindy always made it, she barely noticed that Wesley had joined them, and they were taking a different route when they normally traveled. Cindy had thought ahead and piled jackets inside the van, as well as gloves and a couple beanies. If Kate had been alert, she would have wondered why they needed it, but in her sleepy state she waved it off.
They stopped twenty minutes later in front of a gleaming white building, and they all bundled up before venturing outside the heated van. Wesley took her hand excitedly, and practically dragged her through the door. The air inside was only a little warmer than outside, and Kate's eyes widened as she realized where they were.
Walking slowly over to the glass, she pressed her hand up against it as she watched a lone skater figure eight across the ice. Her heart pumped loudly, and she felt the urge to pull on her skates and scratch the hell out of the ice.
Cindy and Wesley came up behind her, and Cindy placed something heavy against her. Kate looked down at her old figure skates, worn from use but still pretty new. Her eyes instantly filled up as she took them and held them to her body.
Unable to contain his excitement, Wesley blurted, "We found you a coach so you can practice!" Her eyes snapped to Cindy to confirm this, and when she nodded, Kate could only open her mouth in shock. She had expected to never skate again, or never as a sport. Putting on the skates in a near daze, her fingers trembled over the laces. The woman doing figure eights came off the ice to embrace Cindy warmly, and she approached Kate with a smile. "I'm Olivia Johnson. If things work out right, I may be your coach." Her handshake was warm, but firm, which gave Kate the impression that she was nice, but strict. "I know you don't have appropriate practice clothes, but can I see what you can do without them?"
So, before Kate was even really aware of it, she was on the ice warming up. Her heart felt a tug as she remembered her dads warm up, one he did before every practice without fail. The ice welcomed her, and for the first time, she felt right at home.
Cindy and Wesley found some creaky bleachers and sat down with care to watch Kate's skill. Just warming up she looked professional, her face lit with a huge smile. A large machine caught the boy's eye, and he pointed it out to his mother.
"Hey Mom, what's that?"
Cindy smiled at his curiosity. "That's a zamboni. They smooth out the ice so skaters don't trip over the holes their skates make." Her breath caught in her throat as a conversation filled her head.
"I love the zamboni"
"The zambonis your favorite part?"
"No, coming home with you after the game is my favorite part."
Wesley watched in concern as she gasped, and touched her army gently. "Mom, are you ok?"
Eyes wide with fear, all she could do was nod.
