Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
AN: There are so many threads for stories I'll never write in this chapter, and I'm sorry for that. I'm happy with how this came together though. I know how this arc ends, and I've got the next 1, maybe 2 chapters, in the works, but its a hectic time of year and not my best time normally, so the ending may be a wait. Time will tell.
Kaleidoscope, pt 27
Gale snaps a cherry tomato from the vine, tosses it in his mouth.
It's good, and he's hungry, so he snatches a second one. The more he eats the fewer there are for Abernathy.
"Better watch it," he hears Briar call out behind him. "Wren'll wring your neck if you eat all her tomatoes."
Turning, Gale grins, bites the tiny tomato in half.
Briar snorts, jumps the fence to the backyard and straightens her skirt before stepping over a squash plant, crossing to Gale.
She must've come straight from work. Her hair is still up, pulled back in a ponytail, and she's in her skirt and button up, shiny black flats and tall stockings.
"The interim mayor likes 'em. She makes a killing selling to him," she adds as she crawls over the sprawling squash plant.
Gale nods.
The new mayor, the temporary mayor, has been in office a couple of months, since Daniel Undersee died. Age and bad heart had finally brought an end to Gale's benevolent father-in-law's tenure as District Twelve's head politician.
Madge's mom had been booted out just after the funeral, left to float without her husband. His years of service, though hardly loyal or devoted, hadn't earned his wife any warm consideration.
Before Gale and Madge could even extend an offer for her to stay with them, Abernathy had swooped in and bought the old sweet shop, told Matilda she could move back in and pick up where she'd left off when her dad had died.
"She can't live by herself," Wren had pointed out. "The stairs alone will kill her."
Her health has been waning for a few years. They'd actually expected her to pass before Daniel.
Matilda is an enigma though, has drifted on with life despite her illnesses and apparent fragility. She's actually improved since moving out of the Mayor's house.
Still, concern had caused Wren to move out, move in with her Nona, reopen the old sweet shop with a little help from the rest of the family. She still comes home every couple of days, picks the garden with Madge and takes the most profitable to Town to sell.
The sweet shop is hardly a huge money draw, but it breaks even, if only due to its number one client, Haymitch Abernathy. Seeing as Abernathy's money comes from the Capitol, and they get their funds from people like Gale, it's hard not to feel justified in accepting it back. Especially if it helps Matilda and Wren.
Briar checks up on them daily, usually on her lunch break, then comes by to check on Madge on her way home and to pick up the girls. Despite swearing off children, she's become the mother hen of the family.
"You need to tell your nieces that then," Gale tells her, pointing to a barren tomato cage. "They picked that first plant clean."
She rolls her eyes, shoots Gale an annoyed look. "I can't imagine who let them."
Before Gale can defend himself, point the finger at Abernathy, he hears crashing from inside the house and turns to the porch.
In seconds, the door flies open as Sawyer rushes out, bounding down the steps toward Gale and Briar.
"Aunty Briar!" She shouts, lunging at Briar, letting her catch her and swinging her up, laughing.
Looking back to the porch, Gale finds Scout taking the steps cautiously, expression one of deep concentration before running to Gale.
"Pick me up, Poppy," she asks, holding her hands up.
With a groan, Gale leans down, hoists her up.
"Either you're getting too big or I'm getting too old," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her blonde hair.
She giggles, wraps her skinny arms around his neck and kisses his rough cheek.
"Have you two been helping Gammy?"
Scout nods, but Sawyer launches into an elaborate tale, explaining every moment of the day spent with Madge.
After nearly ten minutes, detailing everything from breakfast to washing the socks to eating tomatoes with Abernathy, she finally winds down, finishing with a dramatic sigh than only an eight year old can muster.
"We been so busy, you don't even know."
Briar simply nods, eyebrows arching. "Sounds like it."
"Is momma working late again?" Scout asks, resting her head on Gale's shoulder, watching Briar quietly.
Smiling sadly, Briar nods. "She's got to. They want all those documents rescanned by next week."
Gale doesn't understand either of the girls' jobs, they seem pointless and stifling, but that hardly matters. They pay, they're safe, and the interim mayor had told them they'd be allowed to stay in their positions.
"But," Briar quickly adds, spotting the disappointed expressions forming on the girls' faces, "guess who will be over for dinner?"
"Ephraim!"
"Yeah, so go get you stuff so we can get dinner ready," she tells them, setting Sawyer down and tugging her ponytail.
Scout scrambles down, nearly tripping on her shoelaces, races after Sawyer, up the stairs and in the back door, letting it clatter shut behind them.
"Another date, huh?" Gale asks, trying not to laugh at the annoyed expression forming on Briar's face.
She rolls her eyes. "Hardly. There's nothing even remotely romantic about stewed squash and tomato soup with a pair of grubby kids."
Gale laughs, remembering Sage had said something similar when he'd been by with the kids earlier.
"Try having another, then you can complain," Gale had told him, as Jessamine and Lawrence had helped the twins set up a tea party with the baby as the guest of honor.
Sage had scratched his head.
"More? Dad, I'm not even sure how we got the last two at this point."
Gale chuckled and helped him save the baby after that, gathered up the kids and packed some of Madge's canning to take home.
Briar wipes the sweat from her face and sighs.
"Mom have a good day?"
Gale shrugs. It hadn't been a bad day.
Since her dad died, Madge has held up surprisingly well, but it's still been hard on her.
"I know it's silly," she'd told him one evening, while repairing one of his shirts. "I'm an adult. I'm a grandmother-for Pete's sake- I knew he was sick for a while."
Pulling her close, Gale tried to soothe her as she'd started to cry.
"I don't think that makes a difference."
The hurt is the same, whether you're fourteen and it blindsides you, or a grandmother of six watching it careening towards you.
Someone you love, someone loving and solid, is gone. There's an emptiness that can't be put into words, and Gale knows it.
"The kids being over help," Gale answers.
They're a good distraction. Noisy and happy, they keep her mind from dwelling on the things and people missing from her life.
The house had been too quiet after Wren had moved out to live with Matilda. Even if Madge had encouraged her to go, she knew better than anyone her mom was going to need all the help she could get, the absence still hit her hard. No matter how many days a week she spends at the sweet shop, coming home to the house, once bursting with family, now quiet and empty, hit her hard.
Sage's kids are there during the week, while Abilene is working at the bakery, and the twins have been coming on the weekends too, while Daisy and Briar are working on the Capitol's new documents process.
Jessamine has even started having sleep overs, partly because she adores Madge, and partly to escape the baby's nightly feedings. Whatever the reason, Madge welcomes her, all too happy to have another voice keeping her from ruminating.
"They help a lot," Gale finally adds.
Briar sighs, nods, her frown deepening.
"Good." She winces, presses her hand to her forehead, physically holding off a headache.
She'd taken her grandad's death the hardest.
Briar had adored Daniel, and when he'd first showed signs of illness, she'd devoted herself to trying to fight it. Hours at the library, hunched over books with Vick at home, had ended with blinding headaches and not a single answer.
"Just like Matilda's," the old doctor had told them, when he'd examined her at Daniel's request. "I can try to get a little morphling, that seems to help hers-"
"No," Madge had quickly told him. "Bri, we'll figure something else out."
Briar had nodded, let out a long breath. "Yeah, I don't want drugged up."
"We could do minute dosing."
That, Gale thought, was reasonable. Watching Briar in pain killed him. He'd always faulted Daniel for letting Matilda drown in morphling, considered it a failing. Now though, after seeing Briar in tears from pain, he understands.
There's nothing worse than watching someone you love, someone as ridiculously strong as Briar on top of that, struggling. Gale would trade anything to stop her suffering.
Glancing at Matilda, eye closed and face upturned in the seat by the window, oblivious to the conversation occurring beside her, Briar shook her head.
"No thanks."
She'd seen what years of the drug had done to her grandma, and clearly didn't want to start on that path.
They've gotten more frequent lately, more intense since Daniel died, but she bears them better than her grandmother does. Still, Gale doubts a little morphling would hurt. Briar isn't Matilda.
"Okay?" He asks as she sighs.
Smiling weakly, Briar shrugs. "Damn head again."
She waves it off, glances around, then reaches in her pocket and pulls out what looks to be a torn and rumpled piece of paper.
"We were filing documents-for the upgrade, you know?-and Daisy found this."
She stares at it a moment, her eyebrows scrunched together in thought, then holds it out.
"It's from Four. Official communication."
Gale takes it, carefully unfolds it, smiles at the name scrawled along the bottom.
'Miles Hawthorne'
It's tidy, reminds Gale of Madge's signature. They make their 'M's the same even.
Miles isn't allowed to give them detailed information, not even something as seemingly benign as where he's at. It's a pointless rule, but there's nothing they can do about it. The Capitol did as it saw fit.
"Four," Gale mumbles, rubs at his neck, reads on.
It's mostly typed legal jargon, foreign words and phrases to Gale, but peppered in are hand written corrections, all Miles'.
"Yeah, Four."
For all the good it'll do them. It doesn't change anything. Still, it's nice to see his name, his handwriting, pretend he's on a beach, swimming, lounging and fishing. It's a fantasy, but a kind one.
"It's stupid, isn't it?" Briar mutters, rubbing her nose, her voice a little thick. "Getting excited to just see his shitty handwriting on a boring document."
"No," Gale assures her, his eyes finally pulling away from his son's name. "It's not."
They only get the rare letter from Miles, usually butchered by the Capitol monitors, with large chunks edited out. This is an unexpected bonus. Something whole, if not personal.
Briar's nose scrunches up and she takes a deep breath.
"I miss him."
Gale nods. "Me too."
But missing people doesn't change things, Gale's known that for a long time.
Briar takes the paper back, refolds it and stuffs it in her pocket. Probably to return it to wherever she and Daisy swiped it from.
"I'll tell your mom."
Later, he thinks, before bed. Let her drift to sleep with happy thoughts of Miles on a beach.
Gale wraps an arm around Briar's shoulder, steers her toward the house. "Let's go see if those two forgot they were leaving."
Inside, Madge has a rag, is laughing and trying to get some red juice from Sawyer's face, half a strawberry still in her hand.
"You're gonna ruin your dinner," she tells her.
"Good," Sawyer grumbles. "I hate squashes."
Gale agrees with her, but he values his life too much to say so.
Briar rolls her eyes. "Well then tell Grammy and Wren not to grow so damn many of them."
Gale chuckles as Sawyer twists away, runs into the living room to finish gathering her things.
"I'm not waiting till dark!" Briar shouts at her back. "Light a fire under it, you little snot!"
Scout comes hurrying in, pillowcase with her rag doll peeking out the top gripped in her hand, runs to Madge and hugs her around the middle.
She glances at Gale and Briar then up at Madge. "Did you tell 'em?"
Brushing a few wild strands from her face, Madge shakes her head.
"You said you were," she teases.
Scout chews her lip for a moment, then shakes her head. "No, you."
Leaning down, Madge picks her up, wincing as she settles her on her hip. Scout and Sawyer are smaller than Jessamine, who is as solid as her mom, and every bit as strong, but they're still hardly toddlers anymore.
"Scout picked out a cake to bake with Jessamine and we talked to Nona and she and Aunty Wren are making ice cream for dinner next Sunday."
"That's all desserts," Briar points out. "Are we gonna have any actual food or just gorge ourselves on crap?"
Madge rolls her eyes. "If this one and Nona have their way, all dessert."
A crooked grin forms on Briar's lips as she looks at Gale.
The woods are already calling her.
#######
Madge rocks Haskil, pats his back rhythmically as Abilene assists Jessamine and Scout with the cake.
He's a bit of a fussy baby, which Gale blames entirely on the Mellarks, despite Hazelle reminding him he'd had colic as a baby.
"You all did." She patted Vick's arm. "Except this one."
Madge had laughed at Gale's indignant expression.
"Madge was a very quiet baby," her father had told them, when they'd brought the baby by, on one of his final days.
His voice had been weak and his breathing labored, a strange rattle when he took lungfuls of air, but he'd smiled at the newest member of the family.
The last few months of his life had been painful. His heart had failed and his lungs had filled with fluid. He'd coughed so often, so hard, that he'd cracked a rib.
Briar had sat vigil at his bedside more nights than not, refusing to let him be alone if she could help it.
"I don't want him to die alone," she'd told Madge, rubbing at bloodshot eyes, puffy from crying.
Her Poppa had been her hero, her enabler at times, and seeing him so weak, watching him struggle, too exhausted to even walk to the porch, had pained her.
In the end, he hadn't died alone. Briar and Daisy had been holding his hand and Madge had an arm wrapped around his shoulder as he'd taken his final breath.
It was a relief to see him so at peace. The weight of the world-the Capitol, the District, life-lifting. Much as Madge misses him, she's grateful his suffering is over. Nothing can hurt him anymore.
The rest of them aren't so lucky. They're still at the whims of the Capitol.
The interim mayor has allowed things to carry on as they have. He hasn't restructured anything, which has allowed both Briar and Daisy to keep their jobs, nothing short of a miracle.
Two single girls have very few options, and Madge had worried herself sick that they'd have to join Wren and their Nona at the sweet shop. It wasn't profitable enough to support all of them.
"It's too much hassle," Briar had explained.
"And he said whoever they assign probably won't change much," Daisy added. "It sounded like we'd be a training ground for up and coming officials. They'll need to keep staffing for stability."
Madge certainly hopes so. They're scraping by most days as it is. Losing their paycheck, however meager, would be a blow.
"Don't worry so much, mom," Briar told her. "Even if they sack us, I'll just trade at the Hob and Lacewood would love an excuse to marry Daisy."
Daisy hadn't looked entirely pleased with that plan.
Madge has no doubt she loves Arlen, but she's wary of marriage.
"Grammy never dated," she pointed out, when Gale complained about Thom needling him about being in-laws someday, when Arlen had first asked her out.
"You aren't Grammy," Gale reminded her. "You don't have to do what she did. Arlen is a good guy. He's got an idiot for a dad, but you can't pick your family."
Despite dating for three years, it being clear to anyone with eyes they both adore one another, and Arlen doting on the girls, Daisy is hesitant to discuss marriage.
"It just feels...disloyal," she confessed.
"It's not," Madge assured her. "Rowan loved you, he loved those girls-even without meeting them-he'd want you to be happy."
Still, her wariness has kept any real discussion dampened. They both seem content with what they have now though, so Madge hopes that's enough. She also hopes it doesn't become an issue born of necessity, like Daisy losing her job.
"Avery, baby, don't lick the spoon, we still need it," Abilene reminds her son as she reaches over to grab it, pulling Madge out of her memories.
Dodging her, Avery grins, licks the other side of the spoon.
Abilene just sighs, looks at Madge.
"Is that my side or Sage's?"
It's such a painfully Rory move that Madge almost admits it, but bites it back. Gale would never forgive her for admitting any faults in the kids may stem from them.
She also doesn't want to mention there are traces of Miles in Avery's grin. It hurts too much to mention. Sage has seen it too though.
"Sometimes he'll laugh or do something to Jess or Law, and it's like...he's back." He chewed his lip, taken a breath. "I guess this is how dad and Uncle Vick feel about Uncle Rory."
She thinks so, but she also thinks it may be worse in a way.
Rory is gone. The Capitol has no more control over him, they can't hurt him anymore.
But Miles…
Miles is just gone. He's alive, and he's safe as far as Madge knows, as safe as he can be, but he's beyond her reach.
She gets letters, messy and handwritten, redacted and cut down, but they're few and far between. Mail between the districts is infrequent, hardly a concern for the Capitol.
He could be suffering, and she'd never know. The uncertainty is emotionally exhausting.
It's ungrateful, she knows that. Miles is alive, and that's no small mercy, but not seeing him, not talking to him, not knowing how he really is...it's a kind of cruel Madge can't describe.
Rather than voicing her thoughts though, Madge had nodded, given him a hug. "Yeah."
"He's in Four," Gale told her last night. "Briar and Daisy found some documents."
Madge had smiled sadly, imagined him running along some beach, probably flirting with every girl he spotted. The ocean would suit him, wide and full of the unknown.
Madge had sworn she'd spotted Miles on the television, during a Reaping a few years back, standing among officials in Two. Then Daisy had thought she'd seen him in Three, during a broadcast of the Victory Tour the next year, but they could never be certain. The screen was grainy and the connection poor, leaving them with nothing more than phantom visions.
Pinpointing where he is for certain, even if there's no use to the information, is an indescribable relief. It's something solid, something the Capitol hasn't altered for the first time in years.
It's the first bit of bright news they've had since her father died.
She'd drifted to sleep, cheek to Gale's chest, with sun soaked dreams and the sound of waves on the shore and Miles' laughter filling her head.
With a pained smile, Madge shakes off the thoughts of Miles, shrugs in answer to Abilene. It was a throwaway question, and Madge won't shatter the fragile normalcy they're trying to build by falling to pieces over it.
"When's Poppy gon'be back?" Jessamine asks, glaring at her brother as he tries to stick a finger in her icing.
"Later Jess," Abilene answers. "Watch your spatula."
Jessamine's nose wrinkles as she sets the spatula down, then slaps Avery's hand as he makes another attempt on her icing. "When's Ephraim coming?"
Madge buries her face in Haskil's hair, muffles her laugh.
Jessamine, Scout, and Sawyer are all a bit in love with Ephraim. Sage has even joked that Briar had better propose to him before one of her nieces beats her to it.
"It's a toss up which it'll be though."
Briar shrugged. "Money on Scout."
"Money on me," Wren mumbled.
For his part, Ephraim is a good sport about all his attention.
"It's the uniform," he explained as Briar rolled her eyes.
"Don't slap your brother," Abilene warns Jessamine. "And Ephraim will be here when he gets off duty."
Avery makes a final bid for the icing, and in a fit of frustration Jessamine picks her spatula back up and smacks him across the hands with it.
Instantaneously, Avery's face screws up and fat tears begin streaming down his face as he grasps his hand in pain.
Abilene picks him up, shushes him gently, as she turns to scold Jessamine.
"What did I say about hitting?"
Jessamine crosses her arms. "You said no slapping. I hit him with the spatula. It's not the same."
For a moment Abilene simply stares, then she looks at Madge.
"Definitely your side."
Grimacing, Madge nods. No fighting that one
Before she breaks down into laughter-Jessamine's logic is faulty but funny-Madge mutters she needs to go change the baby's diaper and hurries to the living room.
She's barely stepped foot onto the threadbare rug when someone knocks on the front door.
"Ephraim!"
Jessamine and Scout hurtle past her, nearly knocking Madge off her feet in their bid to be the first to the door.
"Girls be careful!"
They don't seem to hear her, just battle at the door for a moment before Scout slips under Jessamine's arm and gets her little fingers on the knob, flings the door open.
Instead of a tall peacekeeper, muddy boots and helmet under his arm, they find another man.
For a moment Madge just stares, studies the tailored suit and tasseled leather shoes,
messy dark curls and stubbly jaw.
Heart stuttering in her chest, Madge covers her mouth as Miles gives her a lopsided grin.
"Hey mom."