Chapter 34: Tumult
Edythe awoke to an empty bed. As her mind gradually pulled her from unconsciousness, she could feel every nerve and muscle in her body, because they all seemed to be aching uncontrollably. This was a pain unlike that in her back; while that pain was ever-present, sharp and intense, this was a soreness that spread through ever fiber of her being, as if she had just run a marathon.
She struggled to remember what had happened that had caused her to feel like this; as she racked her brain for some explanation, fuzzy, half-formed images started to come to her. The park, the cold water, the island, the darkness, all of it from somewhere far away. She didn't remember anything after that until she was suddenly freezing, and her family had been hovering over her. Edythe remembered being cold, and the thought made her want to burrow herself into the comforters more. But she remembered, through her blurry state, Carine speaking to her, trying to tell her it was alright.
She hadn't completely understood the implications then, but she had felt solace in her mother's presence, and had felt so worn out she'd had a hard time keeping her eyes open. She remembered the fear, the guilt, and the turmoil of emotions that had been inside her. She recalled them suffocating her, and how she had practically drowned in them when she had finally forced herself to feel them. Now, she felt bottled up, the emotions packed down into a box in her mind that was much too small for them. The lock on the lid was large but heavy, threatening to break at any point. She cringed at the thought.
At that moment, Edythe felt something cool brush against her cheek. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up into Carine's face. Her mother was sitting besides her on the bed, one hand pulled back from where she had brushed against Edythe's face. Edythe blinked a few times, her expression groggy, before focusing more clearly on her. Edythe took in Carine's expression; the face was always kind, compassionate, but she could see the underlying emotions there. She saw the terror, the fear mixed intense relief, and the worry. All emotions Edythe had worked so hard to keep off her mother's face, the goal she had been trying to achieve for so many weeks.
Guilt laced through her, and the emotions manifested tenfold at the idea of what her family must have gone through that would have caused them to be so worried and upset. She couldn't even think to imagine how long she had been on the island; time had seemed to stop. She stole a glance at the digital speaker besides her and Beau's bed. The clock imbedded in the device gave her the present time, nearly one o'clock in the afternoon on Wednesday.
Edythe did the mental math, connecting the dots and realizing that she had left the house early Tuesday morning. They must have found her sometime last night, given what she could remember. Edythe cringed slightly as she realized at how big the gap had been, when no one could have contacted her, and what she had been doing.
Carine said nothing, watching as the gears worked in Edythe's head, allowing her to make the connections on her own. Once she did, Edythe tentatively sat up, holding herself up with one hand.
"Edythe," she murmured, prompting Edythe to meet her gaze, "Sweetheart, we need to talk."
Edythe said nothing, but her eyes glanced toward the door, as if waiting for the rest of her family to enter.
"No one else is here," Carine informed her. "Beau is in class with the others. Earnest is out."
Edythe's eyes flicked back to Carine's face. The solidarity made it clear that Carine had asked this of the others, that she had wanted this conversation private. This didn't comfort Edythe the way she expected it to; she did not want to delve into what had happened on the island or that day at all, let alone what had been going on in the past few weeks; but if she were forced to, she didn't want her family seeing it. Carine seemed to know that, and the answer in her expression made it clear that she had no intention on allowing Edythe to bypass talking about it.
More terrified than resigned, Edythe's eyes glanced down, unwilling to see the emotions in Carine's face. She waited, not knowing what Carine was going to say or do. There was a long moment of silence.
"Edythe," Carine murmured again, "Do you have any idea how badly you scared us?" Edythe's face twisted, ashamed, her face turning slightly away from Carine. The vampire lifted her hand slowly, her palm fitting underneath Edythe's chin, encouraging her to look up. After a moment, Edythe obeyed, looking into Carine's eyes. There, she saw the concern, the pleading, and another wave of guilt crashed through her, on top of everything else. The locked box in her mind rattled threateningly.
"Your father and I were worried sick," Carine continued, not in a hard way, but Edythe flinched as if she were shouting, "Not to mention the others trying to track you down all over the state." Carine paused.
"Were you trying to hide your trail from us?" she asked quietly. Edythe's eyes widened.
"No," she insisted, though her voice was rough with disuse. Carine reached out and offered her the glass of water that sat on the besides table. Edythe took only a few sips to lubricate her mouth, but then found herself famished. She gulped the water down, draining the glass easily as Carine watched, her concern growing slightly at the evidence of the dehydration. Edythe held the empty glass between her hands as she responded.
"I didn't hide my scent. Or, at least, I didn't mean to…" she trailed off, her mind going back through the path she had travelled. She realized, with another pang of shame, that it was entirely possible to come to the conclusion, considering her actions. But she looked up at Carine, her face pleading.
"Why did you swim to the island?" Carine asked. Edythe opened her mouth but didn't answer. Her eyes dropped once more to her hands, where her fingers were clamped over the glass. As she did, she noticed a clean white bandage pressed over the inside of her wrist and forearm, as well as taped to the palm. She stared at it for a moment, not understanding. She was able to pull the memory of being caught on the branch, the relief that had come with the feeling, but she was drawing a blank about how she could have gotten injured. Carine watched for a moment, before reaching forward, her fingers ghosting over the wounds.
"Sweetheart," she murmured, "Why did you do this to yourself?"
Edythe's eyebrows were furrowed, still confused. But, after a long few moments, the truth seemed to hit, as she felt the dull pulsing of the cuts beneath the bandage. She shuddered, her own eyes horrified as she realized what she had done. Carine's eyes turned concerned at the reaction, her head ducking down so she could look into Edythe's eyes. Seeing the unbridled panic and pain, the vampire instinctively reached for her, her hand running down Edythe's hands to her elbows, hoping the tactile feeling would help.
"Edythe…" Carine began.
"It's not what you think," Edythe cut her off before she could finish, though her eyes were locked on her arm, on the bandage. And it was; she didn't remember what she did once she had settled on the picnic bench.
"I wasn't trying commit suicide," she added flatly.
"I know," Carine murmured and Edythe glanced up at her in surprise. The vampire reached out to fit her hand to Edythe's cheek, her thumb tracing under her lower lid. The green irises held her gaze, and Carine could see the anxiety behind them.
"If that had been your intention, I know you wouldn't have made the cuts the way you did," she said quietly. Edythe couldn't help but cringe slightly.
"I don't…I don't even remember doing it," she admitted in a low voice. "I just remember the first one on my palm…it got caught on a branch, I think…and I remember it feeling…" She trailed off, not knowing the word she could use that wouldn't make her sound psychologically unwell. She took a quick breath, the air hitching in her lungs, and Carine rubbed her free hand gently along Edythe's side, a calming gesture.
"It was a pain I could control," she finally said. "It felt like an outlet for everything inside. It made it feel like I could breathe again." Carine nodded, letting Edythe continue. "It was the same with the water. The cold was like a shock; it hurt, but at the same time, it didn't…" She could hear how crazy that sounded.
"I don't know if I can explain it correctly. It doesn't make any sense, looking back on it, I know it doesn't. But…"
Carine didn't make her finish; instead, she pulled Edythe to her, and her daughter's chest seemed to cave inward, her forehead pressing to Carine's shoulder. Her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to hold herself together as Carine ran her fingers gently through Edythe's hair. Edythe felt the familiar prick in her nose that let her know she was about to cry, and her breathing shortened, almost turned to gasping.
"Edythe," Carine said, trying to get her attention. Edythe's hands moved to grip Carine's arms tightly, her fingers turning white, and Carine's worry began to rise. She pulled back slightly to look into her daughter's face; it was terror-stricken.
"Shhh, darling, deep breaths," she encouraged. "Breathe."
"I…I'm sorry," Edythe gasped. "I didn't mean…to worry you. I wasn't intending…" she couldn't finish, but Carine understood. But before she couldn't say anything, Edythe spoke again.
"Mom…I'm…so sorry…," she whispered, and Carine could see the guilt and pain there, and felt her own heart lurch as if it would fracture. She made to reassure her.
"I know, Edythe, I know, it's okay," she murmured, her cool fingers smoothing away the tears that begun to fall. "I'm not angry, sweetheart. It's okay. Breathe with me." She reached forward to brush Edythe's hair back from her face as the human worked on her breathing, trying to match it to Carine's. It took a minute, but she finally was able to sync it up, Carine supporting her gently at her sides, her lips against Edythe's forehead. She wrapped her arms around her youngest child securely, pulling her against her granite body.
"Oh sweetheart," she murmured into her hair. "I hate to see you like this."
Carine understood now, all of Edythe's actions finally seeming to fall in place. Her daughter had not been trying to run from them, to hide her trail. She had not intended to create the marks on her arm for the reason that originally came to mind. Everything Edythe had done was her unconsciously trying to protect herself, to cope with the pain—both emotional and physical—that consumed her body, the long buried feelings finally overflowing with the scene at the hospital.
Carine understood what had happened, but she didn't completely know the reasoning behind the pain Edythe had been feeling. For all the weeks she had been watching, she knew now she was right in her assumptions: Edythe had been hiding from her, from everyone. But what exactly the nature of what caused her such turmoil was lost on Carine, But not for much longer. Carine had known this would be a difficult conversation to have, one Edythe would not be inclined to have. This was why Carine had insisted on being alone with Edythe; even Beau and Earnest, though initially adamant on being there, accepted her decision, knowing Edythe would have a hard time opening up to one person, let alone everyone.
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Carine waiting for Edythe to calm. Then, she pulled back slightly, her hands staying under Edythe's arms as she looked into her eyes.
"Edythe, I know you are hurting, you are distressed," she murmured, "And you're trying to work through it alone. But darling, it's just hurting you more." Edythe didn't answer; her eyes were back on her hands, staring at the place her mother touched her.
"What did you think would come of not telling us?" Carine asked. "We wouldn't be upset; none of us want to see you like this."
Edythe cringed slightly. That was exactly why she had tried to bury everything; she didn't want to show her family she was weak, didn't want to burden them with her problems anymore than she already had. The past few months had not been easy on anyone, and she couldn't help but feel guilty, for intruding on their lives. She didn't want to force them to do more than they already had; it already felt like too much. She glanced back at Carine; seeing the gentle, but slightly apprehensive expression on her face made her feel all that more guilty. But this time, the reason behind Carine feeling those things were exactly because Edythe had tried to keep it from happening.
"You worry about me enough," Edythe whispered, still not looking at her. "I didn't want to add more to it. It's my choice, my burden to bear."
Carine's finger came up under her chin, asking Edythe to look at her. Edythe obeyed and was surprised to see a small smile on the vampire's lips.
"I will always worry about you, Edythe," she told her, "That's my job. I worried about you even when you were a vampire. I just have more things to worry about now."
"Exactly—" Edythe tried to say but Carine put a finger to her lips, silencing her.
"Sweetheart, no matter what you are, or how old you are, or what is going in your life, I will always worry about you. It's what mothers do." The smile twitched. "You'll understand when you have children. But, no matter how long you have lived or what choice you make, you do not have to deal with the consequences on your own.
"Your family is here to support you, love you, and help you. If you need our help, you should not feel guilty asking. Look at me," Carine said, for Edythe had looked away, seeing the flash of self-contempt there before continuing once her daughter had complied, "I know you don't feel you should force the repercussions of the decisions you make onto others. I know the kind of person you are, Edythe, I know that any decision you make, you fully accept the responsibility of that decision. But you do not have to bear it alone, especially when it causes you this much anguish."
Edythe looked into Carine's eyes, seeing the pleading and concern there, all for her.
"We love you, sweetheart," Carine said emphatically, "Me, your father, your brothers and sisters, Beau, we all love you as much you love us. Let us help you. Let me help you."
Edythe could feel tears beginning to prick at her eyes again and she shook her head slightly, a hand coming up to brush them away before they could fully form.
"I don't know how," she admitted softly.
"Let me in," Carine pleaded, "Talk to me. I can't help you through this if I don't understand what is going on." Edythe didn't answer. A large part of her yearned to speak, to explain everything, to unleash the tumult of emotions beating at the back of her head. That same part of her just wanted to curl up in her mother's arms, to hold onto Carine and listen to her tell her it would be alright and to comfort her like she was ten years old, rather than over a hundred. But the smaller part of her, the one that demanded she be strong, to not give in to such frivolous desires, that she should be strong, and able to deal with things without relying on her mother, or Beau, or anyone else.
Carine couldn't read Edythe's mind, but she knew her well enough to know what was running through her head. She reached out, her hands resting securely on Edythe's arms, ever so gently pulling, inviting Edythe in.
"You will always be our little girl," she murmured to her, "And you don't have to be strong alone. I'm here, Edythe, I'm not going anywhere." The promise was iron clad and Carine could see the internal war going on behind Edythe's eyes. There was a long moment before finally Edythe moved, allowing herself to crawl into Carine's lap. Her vampire mother pulled Edythe against her body, wrapping her in her strong granite embrace. Edythe pressed her face into Carine's neck, her hands fisting around Carine's shirt and her upper arm. The matriarch said nothing, just allowing Edythe to cling her, using her as a support until she had built up the ability to speak. After a couple of harsh breaths, she finally did.
"The medication stopped working," Edythe whispered, "That's why I haven't been taking it."
Carine felt Edythe's body tense, as if waiting for the reprimand from her, but none came. Instead, Carine continued to run her fingers through Edythe's hair for a few moments.
"Is it the same type of pain that it always has been?" she asked quietly, feeling Edythe shake her head.
"It's sharper and more intense; it's always throbbing; nothing makes it stop, except sleeping," Edythe admitted. Carine nodded; she, of course, recalled Edythe telling her she had stopped taking the Ocalcitin, though it was originally because her pain had decreased. Since that had obviously been untrue, Carine thought back but did not recall Edythe taking any other pain medications; such dosages Carine would have smelled in her bloodstream.
Gently, Carine shifted backwards, her heart clenching as Edythe seemed to squirm, unconsciously trying to close the small distance between them. She disentangled herself from her, quickly kissing Edythe's fingertips.
"I'll be right back," she promised her before moving to get up, flitting from the room. She returned a second later, no longer than the time it took Edythe to blink. She settled back on the bed, holding a vial and syringe in one hand, and a white plastic wrapping in the other. Edythe tried not to make a face, but Carine caught it regardless. She brandished the label on the bottle to Edythe so she could read it.
"It's not an opioid," Carine promised as she filled the syringe, flipping the vial upside down. "And it's just this one time, until the patch starts to work." Edythe's eyes slid to the wrapping, recognizing the name. Her eyebrows lifted slightly in shock; the patch was strong medication, stronger than anything else she had taken before.
"It has less side effects than oral or injectable medications," Carine informed her. "It will provide you relief until we can find something that will help you heal. We may have to do an MRI or radiographs, to ensure nothing came out of place since the surgery."
"I'm not going to the hospital," Edythe said firmly, though she eyed the full syringe warily.
"If that is what is required, then you will not have a choice," Carine said evenly; there was no conviction in her tone, but it was matter-of-fact. "But we will take it one step at a time, all right?"
Edythe nodded slightly after a moment, and allowed her mother to inject the medication into the muscle of her arm. Carine had her turn slightly and pull up her shirt up as she peeled open the wrapping, revealing the small patch. It was only about an inch square, but Edythe knew it supposedly packed a punch. Carine held the plastic carefully between two fingers and gently pressed it to Edythe's lower back, away from her scar. She held her hand there, rubbing her finger over the patch to secure it as she spoke.
"This should start to work in a few hours, just as the other medication is wearing off," she told Edythe. "Its effects should last for three days. I will replace them as needed until we find another solution. But I'm going to be checking up on your pain levels periodically." Edythe nodded silently.
"I need you to be honest with me," Carine said. "At least try, for me."
Edythe hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"Good," Carine said, satisfied as she removed her hand and pulled Edythe's shirt back down. She opened her arms once more and Edythe settled in her mother's embrace, leaning her head against her shoulder. Carine kept her lips against Edythe's temple, watching her daughter's face, waiting. When Edythe didn't volunteer anything, she prompted her.
"What else is upsetting you?" she asked. Edythe shrugged, then spoke before Carine could say anything.
"There's so much, and it's all jumbled up, I don't really know anymore," she explained.
"Can you try to pick something out? What are you feeling?" Carine coaxed. Edythe opened her mouth, but the idea of feeling everything once more, to allow the dam to fall, the lock to break, terrified her. She didn't remember much of what happened on the island, but she remembered the pain that had overcome her that morning, how she couldn't handle it, how she felt she was being sucked into an emotional vacuum. The catch of the air in her lungs alerted Carine, and she tightened her hold on Edythe.
"You're safe, sweetheart. I'm right here," she told her quietly. "It's okay. Let it out."
Edythe seemed to hesitate, her body working against her mind, trying to protect itself against the onslaught that was beating at the back of her head. But Edythe trusted Carine, knowing her mother would never allow any harm to come to her. Edythe trusted her judgement, had gone to her for advice, to help her work through many dilemmas in the past, ones that were beyond what Edythe could face on her own. So, with that, she closed her eyes, allowing the latch of the box to come undone.
Carine felt the sudden grip Edythe had on her, more forceful than before, holding onto her as strong as a human physically could. Edythe buried her face in Carine's shoulder, and her body began to shake violently.
Everything seemed to hit Edythe like a tidal wave, the water breaking free of the dam and hitting her like a tsunami. The stress and extreme emotions overcame her mind and body until she felt almost blind and deaf with it, unable to move to escape the turmoil. When this had happened on Cayuga Island, Edythe had gone numb, unseeing and unfeeling to anything and everything. But now, it was the opposite; she felt everything, and she was consumed by panic and guilt and shame and anxiety. It was too much and she heard a strangled sound escape her throat. Her ears seemed to ring and the room began to blur. She felt like she was going to succumb.
But then she felt as Carine's arms tightened around her, her fingers caressing her cheek, her lips against her forehead. Her mother's touch was familiar, strong, comforting. And she desperately tried to reach for it. Her lips parted.
"Mom…" Edythe whimpered.
"I'm here," Carine promised her, hushing her softly. "Let it all out, sweetheart. I've got you."
The emotions were all-consuming and, left powerless to control them, Edythe did the only thing she could: hold onto her mother and let it happen, begging for relief.
Carine kept her lips against Edythe's temple, speaking to her softly as Edythe seemed to cry without the ability to produce tears. The young girl's body was shaking so violently that if Carine didn't know better, she would have thought she were seizing from the emotional cataclysm. The vampire's unbeating heart ached as her daughter fell apart in her arms, Edythe's fingers latching onto Carine to have something tangible to hold onto as everything came undone.
It seemed all the emotions of the past few weeks, everything that Edythe had been burying deeper and deeper, seemed to explode out of her now, and she couldn't stop it. It terrified both of them, but Carine kept herself in check, knowing Edythe needed her to. Her daughter's fingers dug into Carine's arms, the unyielding, chilly skin causing her to lose her grip; Edythe gasped as she fought for some semblance of control, trembling in Carine's hands.
"I know, Edythe, I know," she heard Carine whisper. "Tell me; it's the only way to get through it."
"I…"Edythe tried, forcing a gulp of air into her lungs. "I feel…" Carine waited patiently.
"Work is hard," she finally managed. She continued, taking shallow breaths between words as she tried to get everything out. "The clients are tiring, it's difficult to work with some of the animals. It's frustrating, but at the same time, I love it. I enjoy it. But there's pressure on me, to be what the other technicians think I can be, because Amanda favors me, teaches me. And I love what she teaches but…I'm scared I won't be able to do what she expects me to be able to do. That I'll let her down, them down, you…"
Edythe's eyes finally met Carine's for a brief moment before turning away, not wanting to look into her mother's face as she said the next part. The emotions were still raging through her, but it had morphed into words, as she finally was able to externalize all she had been feeling.
"I…I can't be you. And everyone thinks I can. But it's not the same, no matter how much I may want it to be. I could never be the doctor you are, I know that. But everyone seems to think that, and I'm trying to, but…" Edythe paused, taking a couple of deep breaths.
"Sometimes I just want to give it all up; but I don't want to let anyone down. But it hurts," she said, the last word coming out strangled. She didn't say anything else, feeling Carine's stiff posture beneath her. She waited for her reaction, not knowing what to do. But she was surprised as Carine pulled her closer, cradling her head between her shoulder and her hand, Carine's thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as she murmured in her hair.
"Oh, Edythe," she said quietly, "You put too much on yourself. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone; you already have, sweetheart, and there aren't words for how proud I am of you." Carine could almost hear the skepticism in Edythe's silence, and she continued.
"I wish I could show you a magic mirror, so you could see you how I do. Though, I know you could read my thoughts for most of our time together, and that still did not convince you. You are an amazing technician, Edythe, and I know—as well as everyone else knows—you will be an amazing doctor. No matter what species you're treating, I know you will do so with grace, respect, and compassion. You have already shown that to Amanda, your coworkers, and to me. You don't need to worry about that, darling."
There was another moment of silence before Carine added.
"I know you don't want to believe my words. But if you cannot believe them, at least trust me." Edythe leaned back an inch, and Carine looked down into her face, her eyes conveying nothing but pride and adoration as she kissed the top of Edythe's head lightly.
"I don't want to disappoint you," Edythe murmured quietly.
"You never could, sweetheart," Carine assured her.
"But, that puppy…"
"That was not your fault." Carine's voice was firm, with no room for argument. "That man should not have treated you that way, and I am very thankful that Amanda stepped in when she did. She told me to tell you she did a full necropsy on that dog, that the liver was so badly infested with tumors, there was nothing anyone could have done. It was a congenital condition, and she's surprised that the puppy survived to the age it did. You did nothing wrong."
This news brought Edythe up short; her eyes glanced up at her mother, who gently brushed a stray tear from her face.
"If you decide you don't want to pursue veterinary medicine anymore, whether now or a week from now, or even while you're in school, I understand. As will Amanda," Carine said. "Don't continue on this path if it's not where your heart is."
"I…" Edythe hesitated, "I do want to do it. But I'm afraid…that I won't be good enough, know enough. That I won't be able to make the right decisions." Carine smiled.
"Everyone who goes into medicine feels the same way," she told her. "You will learn, and it will come in time. I felt the same when I began to practice, and I had a couple of extra abilities at my disposal." Edythe laughed a little, though the sound was a little broken. But Carine smiled, her hand brushing the hair back from Edythe's face.
"There," she said gently, "Nothing to worry about. You will be amazing; I don't need to be Archie to know that." Edythe didn't completely believe it, but she didn't fight it. She was thrown that she had admitted all of this to Carine, brandishing how little she had met Carine's thoughts of her, where she fell short. But Carine saw nothing but good.
Edythe didn't think she would ever be able to see her the way her mother did, but she was slightly relieved that despite her mistakes and misgivings, Carine loved her all the same. The human girl returned to her original position and Carine was perfectly happy to hold her daughter in her arms. But she could feel that wasn't the last of it. She knew that such an extreme reaction was unlikely to stem from just these two issues and, judging by the stiffness in Edythe's body, she was right in her assumption.
"What is it?" she asked quietly. Edythe didn't answer.
"Edythe?" Carine pushed, hearing her daughter sigh. Edythe absentmindedly played with Carine's fingers as she debated, then spoke.
"I'm worried…about later," she said. Thrown, Carine waited, hoping she would explain.
"That…there will be a time where I'll be established at work or something and then we'll have to move. That one day, it won't be believable that I'm younger than the others, younger than you. That it will come to a point where Beau and I can't stay with you anymore, that it will cause problems for you. There's days that I miss going on hunting trips, playing baseball, that kind of thing. There's days where I have no idea what to do if Beau and I were to have children, whether they should know about you, or not, and how I would even keep it from them to begin with, or if I would have no choice but to keep them away and us away because it could cause suspicions, even when I don't want to do that. I'm scared there will be a day when you're not there, none of you, or when I'm not there, or Beau. And I don't want to leave you, in either way…"
Edythe had turned to rambling, the fears and questions pouring out of her with no ability to stop them. Such scenarios had been built up inside her for months and it felt freeing to finally let them out. But as she did so, she could feel water build up in her tear ducts, at the thought of losing her family, or being forced to separate from them. The idea was so painful just to think about that her mind had rebelled every time it was brought to the forefront of her mind. But now, what resulted was just a physical representation of her pain and the imagined loss.
Carine was stunned into stillness as she realized what Edythe was getting at. And with that, a familiar pain overcame her features, both at the thought of what Edythe described and at the idea of how long Edythe had been agonizing over all of this. What Edythe described was as painful for the coven leader as it was for her daughter, but Carine saw more than Edythe did, knew that there was no end-all, be-all to it.
That allowed Carine to recover and to comfort her distraught child. She held Edythe to her, feeling her chest get tight hearing Edythe's aching pleas for her between pained, tearless sobs.
"Oh, Edythe," she murmured, Unconsciously, she pulled her daughter closer, one hand coming up behind Edythe's neck, holding her face into Carine's cold hard shoulder. The granite feel and chilly temperature would make anyone else uncomfortable, but the familiarity comforted Edythe and she snuggled closer as Carine hugged her back. The vampire unconsciously began to rock, crooning softly to her youngest daughter.
"I'm here, Edythe, I'm right here, shhhh," she told her again and again. Edythe's grip did not loosen and Carine shifted slightly, grabbing the throw blanket from the bed and wrapping it around Edythe, tucking it underneath her legs and around her shoulder before pulling her against her once more. Carine took all of Edythe's weight, both physical and emotional, as the human girl finally released the last of what had been bottled up inside, the last of it fizzling it out as she clung to her mother.
"You don't have to worry about that, sweetheart," Carine assured her, placing her chin lightly on the top of Edythe's head, one hand coming up to brush her loose hair back from her face. She glanced down, pressing her lips delicately to Edythe's temple.
"I'm not going anywhere, neither is your father, or any of your brothers or sisters," she promised. Edythe pressed closer, blinking back the tears she could feel building up in her eyes once more. Though only a few fell, Carine could smell the saltwater.
"I understand, Edythe, but there is too much to look forward to, to dwell on the unpleasant possibilities. Your father and I have already considered many of these things, and we are determined to make it work, to keep the family together, all of us." Carine's words surprised Edythe; she did not think Carine and Earnest had already discussed the things that had been haunting her. Little did she know, her family often thought and feared for the future for them and Edythe, but they were working hard to make it work, to adjust as they needed to keep Edythe and Beau with them. The revelation seemed to calm her, and the tears slowed, the shuddering stilling.
"Oh, darling," Carine crooned, continuing the light soothing caresses, "I know it scares you; it worries me as well. But I don't think you should worry about that, not when I still have to sign your permission forms."
Edythe laughed once, a choked little sound, her throat thick with moisture from her emotions.
"Don't let the fear of the future destroy your present, Edythe," Carine told her. "We will deal with it when it comes, all right?" After a moment, Edythe nodded just slightly.
Edythe pulled back slightly and gazed into her mother's eyes, feeling another surge of love and respect for Carine, a feeling that happened often as she recalled exactly how lucky she was, to have Carine and the rest of her family. For all she had admitted to, all the cowardice she showed, Carine had taken it all, and had helped her consolidate it, to group it into things so she could work through it with her. The emotions—everything she had been feeling—were eased, and it did not seem so insurmountable now. It was not completely gone, of course, and some of it probably never would be. But Edythe found herself comforted, knowing Carine was aware, and on her side, helping her work through everything.
The last of the tension in Edythe's shoulders released, as the emotional burden was lifted from them. Her body was tired, physically drained from the emotional rollercoaster, and mentally spent from all of the strength it had taken to admit to these things. But Carine smiled, and Edythe returned the gesture slightly.
"There," Carine murmured, squeezing her once more, before pulling back slightly, her hands coming up under Edythe's chin, lifting her face up to look into her face. Her mother tenderly smoothed the tear tracks from her cheeks. "It will all be okay." Edythe nodded again, her hands coming up to place them on top of Carine, leaning into her mother's hands. Carine leaned forward, brushing her lips against Edythe's forehead.
"Now," she said as she met her daughter's gaze once more. "First things first. What would you like for lunch?"
Carine made Edythe her favorite dish—homemade chicken piccata—as Edythe showered. Finally being able to remove the last of the lake water and grime and sand from her body seemed to let her wash other things away, not her feelings, but at least some of her worries. Carine stayed with Edythe as she ate, enjoying the silent companionship as she consumed the food. It was always delicious, and she and Beau could never figure out how vampires—who had no way to garner taste or smell of human food—could create such delectable meals.
Edythe ate as much as she could stomach, making sure to pack the rest of it away for later. One glance at the clock made it clear that her siblings and Beau would be arriving home from class soon. Part of her was anxious for them to see her since she had been found, fearing for their judgment. But Carine assured her that they, just like she, were only concerned for her and wanted to help her. She tried to focus on that as she retreated to her and Beau's room, focusing on the meditation music she had turned on as she lay under the covers, trying to soothe herself.
Edythe wasn't sure if they knew on their own, or if Archie or Carine had asked them to leave her be, but no one came up to her even well after they were due home. But, when the door opened a crack, she knew who it would be. She didn't turn to acknowledge him, her body tense once more.
Edythe felt the dip in the bed as Beau climbed in, slipping beneath the comforter and scooting closer to her. His front pressed to her back as he tentatively curled his arm over her waist, his hand coming to stroke gently over her forearm. She didn't acknowledge him at first, not knowing what to say. After a few moments, he spoke.
"Do you want to talk?" he asked quietly. She paused, then shook her head.
Beau accepted that, and Edythe watched out of the corner of her eye as he reached down to pull the fleece throw over them both, tucking the plush fabric around her before pulling her against him. He laid his head on the same pillow as her, his chin laying lightly against the top of her head.
After another moment when she realized he meant what he said and really wasn't going to push her into talking, Edythe relaxed. She removed the hand that she had tucked underneath her to twist her fingers through his; he squeezed them gently, not saying anything.
"Thank you," she murmured. Beau smiled sadly, though she couldn't see the expression with her head turned away. But he brushed his lips against her hair.
"Anytime," he replied, "Anything." Edythe couldn't help her own smile, her eyes starting to prick with tears, in equal parts adoration and guilt. She knew Beau had been as upset and terrified as the rest of her family had been at her disappearance, just as she no doubt would have been if the situation were reversed. And yet, despite that, he wasn't angry with her; he didn't ask for an explanation or expect anything of her. He did what she wanted him to, even though it wasn't fair to him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know I scared you; I didn't mean to do that."
Beau could hear the distress in her voice and he crushed her to his chest before she could continue.
"Shhh, you don't need to apologize to me," he told her. "You're home now, and we all are here for you. No matter how or when you need us." His assurance soothed her, despite the guilt she felt at the forefront of her mind, that her family shouldn't have to be there for her. But she remembered Carine's words, and she trusted her. And so, she nodded ever so slightly, forcing the thoughts away as she cuddled closer to Beau, her eyes shutting. He too relaxed besides her, and the both of them drifted off together.
A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed! This chapter was kind of difficult for me to write; I had to keep leaving and coming back to it. I'm still not sure I converted what I wanted to convey in the best way, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. What does this mean now for Edythe; will she let Beau and the other help her? Will she finally be able to maybe see how amazing a person she is as everyone else sees her?
I'm so thankful for this small group of you continuing on this journey with me and I hope you like this story as much as I do. It keeps growing and growing every day; I'm excited to see what it becomes as we go on. See you next week! :)