Home
So far away, come on home
Home
A voice from within, you're not alone
Tumbleweed—Puscifer

Two kids rummage around in the attic of a nice cottage, a sadness tinging in the air as they complete the task set to them by their mother. The attic isn't dusty as they had originally expected it to be, the wood floors swept often and the piles of things organized neatly.

Roslyn picks up a small painting of her grandmother, running her finger along the gentle curve of Julianne's face. She's close to tears, but she blinks them away stubbornly. It's been two weeks since the funeral, but the ten year old is still coming to terms with the loss. With a sigh, Roslyn sets the painting aside and continues farther into the stuffy room.

Robert forces a window open to let in fresh air and sunlight in order to see things clearly before walking over to where his sister is digging through old paintings and sketches their older sister had made when she was younger.

"Do you remember this," Robert asks with a faint smile, holding up a sketch of Robert and Roslyn when they were only three. They were sitting on a handmade rug in front of their grandmother's chair, leaning forward eagerly and listening to one of her many stories. She told them the best stories and he already missed hearing her voice. "Marissa must have drawn it while we were occupied."

"We should keep this one," Roslyn says, her sad smile mirroring her brother's. "And this one as well." She holds up another drawing, this one of both of their grandparents standing on the front porch of the cottage. "They look so young in this drawing."

Robert has a hard time picturing his grandparents as young adults, but this drawing shows just how different they had looked. Instead of gray hair in a bun, a simple dress in pale colors, and a fragility that surrounded her, the woman in the picture looks to be full of energy with dark brown hair that hangs loose around her shoulders and a dress made of bright red and gold colors. Their grandfather is just beginning to gain the laugh lines in the picture, his ginger hair stopping at his shoulders instead of cut short like they're used to, standing straight and tall instead of stooped over from back pains.

"Who's that little boy clutching at grandmother's skirts," Roslyn asks.

"It must be Uncle Dee." Robert tilts his head to the side, taking in the childish features of his uncle. It might be hard to picture his grandparents as young, but it's even harder to picture his uncle with chubby cheeks like he has in this drawing. Dustin is strong and tall with dark brown hair and bright eyes.

"Oh, Robbie, look at this!" Robert looks up from the drawing to find his twin holding up a small, leather-bound book withJuliannestamped on the front in gold. "Should we read it?" Robert shrugs, aching for any trace of their grandmother's presence. Like in the old days when they read a book together, Robert and Roslyn find a nice corner to hide in and sat with their backs against the wall, Roslyn's legs over Robert's as she opens the book. Inside, penned in their grandmother's familiar scrawl, is a story they love to hear...

"He came back today," Robert reads aloud," out of the blue, like so many times before in my own world, Dustfinger came walking up the path like he owned the damn place..."

Dustfinger is anxious to see his wife again after so many years, eager to see her beautiful face clearly for once instead of struggling to picture it in his mind. For lately Roxane's face has dimmed and been replaced by a similar face, a face belonging to Silvertongue's eldest daughter.

When he reaches the farm that Cloud-Dancer had told him of, he takes in the nature surrounding it first and then his eyes land on the back of a woman not too far away. She's kneeling down in front of a small flower bed, her long hair hanging down her back loosely and her dress filthy from the earth. His first thought is that this is his wife, but then he notices small differences; the hair isn't dark enough, the build a little too heavyset, and the tune she's humming comes from a different world, a different story. Her voice reaches his ears, and any lingering doubts he has are pushed aside.

"... If I didn't care, would I feel this way? If this isn't love, then why do I thrill and what makes my head go round and round while my heart stands still?" Dustfinger is intimately familiar with that song from the days he'd visit Julianne at college. It's the one she hums when she reads. "If I didn't care, would it be the same? Would my every prayer begin and end with just your name? And would I be sure that this is—"

Her singing is interrupted by the loud noises of an angry goose, Dustfinger snapping back to reality just in time to soothe the animal without being injured in the process.

"Jaime," she calls as Dustfinger's still trying to convince the attack goose that he isn't a villain. When he looks up again, a dark-skinned man is handing a small child off to Julianne and standing in front of her protectively. The man's brows furrow, and Dustfinger recognizes him instantly as the farmer that had always been kind to the Motley Folk.

"Dustfinger," he asks. The two men stare at each other for a long moment, taking stock and making calculations, before Dustfinger allows his gaze to wander. To his right, standing in one of the fields, is Roxane and a small boy. The boy is eyeing him with caution, but Roxane seems to be battling between appearing angry or shocked. His eyes stay locked on her, drinking in everything he's forgotten—the black of her hair, though now sprinkled with a bit of gray, her fine features and high forehead, her slim build.

He remembers a time when his knees grew weak when she so much as glanced in his direction. In the other world he'd often pictured himself running right up to her once he returned, he would pick her up in his arms and swing her around. Now that this is happening, he finds himself unable to move.

Roxane does the walking, taking the hand of the small boy that had been helping her, maybe seven or eight years of age. Julianne and Jaime come over to him as well, the baby in Julianne's arms squirming slightly to get a good look at everything. A boy, he realizes with a start. A small boy no more than two years old.

He moves his gaze back to Julianne as she approaches, noticing that she looks more tired than she did in her own world, a little skinnier from the hard work, and her muscles more defined under the dress she wears. She's still beautiful, all the traces of baby fat melted away to reveal high cheekbones and delicate arches.

The little boy shares some of her features; his nose is a little long for his face, lips tilted up in a permanent half-smile, eyes almond-shaped. But there are other features this boy didn't get from Julianne, the red tint in hair that curls a little too much, blue eyes a little too pale, the smooth curve of his upper lip instead of a cupid's bow. I have a son.

"Is that…." The words stick in Dustfinger's throat, but he gestures at the toddler.

"His name is Dustin," the little boy says. He's still holding Roxane's hand, brown compared to her tanned one. "Who are you?" There's accusation in those gray eyes, his mother's eyes.

"Dustfinger." Dustfinger bends in a lavish bow that has the toddler giggling, one fat little hand coming to rest over his mouth once he straightens again. Dustfinger can't hold back his smile at the sound, a free thing that's like music to his ears. "And who are you, young man?" The boy straightens his shoulders, tall for his age.

"Jehan Wildes." Dustfinger's eyes flick over to Jaime, the other man not backing down. In fact, he moves to stand closer to Roxane, one hand going to the small of her back. It isn't a possessive gesture, not meant to make Dustfinger jealous, but he can still feel thick vines of envy wrapping round his heart. No matter what's happened in the past twelve years, he still loves Roxane.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Jehan." Jehan scowls up at his father, then back to Dustfinger. And, now that they're so close, Dustfinger can certainly pick out Jaime's features in the lad, the broad forehead and nose, the tight curls that brush against his ears. "I've known your parents for a long time." Jehan's nose scrunches up and it's nearly enough to make Dustfinger smile again.

"How?"

"He's Brianna's father," Roxane murmurs, resting a hand on his head. Her hand still has flecks of dirt on it, emphasizing the slim, silver band around her finger. It matches the broader one Jaime wears, the man obviously saving up a pretty penny to have them made by a skilled silversmith. "He's Dee's father as well."

"Dee," the baby shouts enthusiastically, slapping a hand against his chest. "I Dee!" Roxanne smiles over at Dustin, reaching out to tug on one of his feet. "Auntie, I Dee!"

"Yes you are."

"Can I hold him," Dustfinger asks, gaze focused on the giggling child. Dustin is all smiles, mouth wet with slobber. Julianne doesn't even hesitate to hand Dustin over and the boy doesn't throw a fit to be held by a stranger, cuddling close and letting out another laugh. "Is he always so giggly?"

"Always. I think he got it from my mom," Julianne says. There's a hint of a smile around her mouth, a barely there thing that he's learned means she's pleased. "Mo says she used to laugh all the time." Dustfinger hums, bouncing his son gently. "Where's Farid?" That has a knot forming in Dustfinger's throat, a severe longing making him feel sick.

"Back in your world still. I found a reader in a small village that could bring me here, but the magic didn't work on Farid." He misses the boy more than he ever thought possible, a keen ache that matches the one he's felt for his daughters all these years. "So, how did you all come to live together?"

"Jaime found me at the edge of the Wayless Wood and brought me here after I fainted."

"You fainted?"

"She didn't wake up for a few hours," Roxane says, nodding. "I was worried about the baby, but then she sprang up off the bed and asked for some peppermint tea." A familiar craving from when the morning sickness was at its worst, peppermint tea the only thing Julianne could keep down. "Thankfully, she and our little Dee pulled through just fine."

"Dee," Dustin giggles, one spit-slick hand coming up to tug on Dustfinger's hair. "Dee! Dee! Ma!" The hand wrenches a few strands of hair free in his haste to point at Julianne, his grin showing a couple of teeth. "My ma!"

"Is that your ma," Dustfinger asks, pointing as well. He can feel a laugh perched on the very tip of his tongue, ready to fall off in a shower of happiness like sparks of flames from his fingers.

"My ma!"

"You must love your ma, huh?" Dustin nods enthusiastically, kicking his feet through the air. "Does she spoil you?"

"Poil! I poil!" The laugh falls freely from his mouth, an almost unfamiliar sound after the years spent away from his family. Dustin holds his arms out and wiggles impatiently, letting out a string of senseless babble that has Jaime reaching out to take him. "Jai, poil!"

"That's right," Jaime agrees. "I spoil you, don't I?" Another nod from the boy and Dustfinger notes that Jehan is smiling as well. There's still mistrust in his eyes when he looks at Dustfinger, but it's less now that he sees how comfortable his parents are around the stranger with the scars on his cheek.

"Julianne told us that you didn't eat enough in that other world," Roxane says, eyeing Dustfinger's stomach. She used to do this whenever he came home from being out on the road, and the rush of familiarity nearly overwhelms him. "Come inside. It's nearly time for lunch anyway."

"I don't know," he starts, unsure if he'll be welcomed.

"Don't be ridiculous." She turns and her skirts billow out behind her, brown now instead of colorful. It seems she's given her old dresses to Julianne, just let them out a little to better suit her belly. Jaime and the kids follow Roxane in the farmhouse, but Julianne hesitates outside. Her anxiety is basically clinging to her like a sour perfume, teeth worrying her lip.

"What do you wish to know?"

"How are my family? Do they know what happened to me? Is Mo angry with me for leaving him like Resa did?" He doesn't think she could handle Silvertongue being cross with her, but he's certain that she can't handle the heartbreak that had brought Silvertongue to his knees when Dustfinger had told him what happened two years ago.

"Your family is well." It's not a total lie, they're doing very well in the bookworm's house. "They live with your aunt now. As for your other questions…. Your father understands that you had no choice in the matter. The Tyler boy read you into the book, you didn't do it yourself. Also, your sister told me to give this to you should I find a way between the ink and paper." He rummages around in his pack, eventually pulling out the little box Meggie had pressed into his hand a little over a year ago.

"God, I miss her." Julianne takes the box from him, running her fingertips over the glass screen of it. Farid had kept the thing plugged in whenever they could afford it, his own little ritual that he completed on Meggie's orders. The boy would face the ghosts he sees everywhere if Meggie asked him to.

"What the devil is it?"

"It's my iPod. It plays music." Dustfinger hums and pulls a book out of his pack next. The linen cover is worn, frayed at one corner with the title nearly illegible. Mo had given it to him haltingly two years ago, stroking the cover as though it would bring his eldest girl back to him.

"Silvertongue said you'd need this." Her eyes fill with tears when she sees the book, fingers hesitating to take it before she clutches it to her chest. "I take it you're rather fond of that book?"

"It's Poe's works." The answer is succinct, like it conveys entire years of conversation in just three words. "Resa used to read this to me all the time when I was little. Her and Mo started dating when I was four and they were married a year later. Every night before bed, she'd read me one of these poems."

"Well, now you can do that with Dustin."

"Yes," she nods, voice soft and dreamy. "Yes, that's a good idea."

"We should get inside before Roxane drags us in by our ears. I've had that done to me enough times and I'd really like to avoid it at all costs. It's one of the few things I didn't miss in your story."

"Same here, Dusty." They move into the house, a small thing that suits the patchwork family, Roxane bustling about the kitchen while Jaime has the boys entertained at the table.

"Cloud-Dancer told me you grow herbs for healers," he says to Roxane, watching the way her lips twitch upwards in a smile. It's not the carefree smile she'd given him when they first met, but it's not the tired one she'd given him when he left the last time either. It's somewhere in between, peaceful.

"Yes," she nods," even Nettle buys from me." Dustfinger remembers Nettle, the old healer had always been a surly thing, but he'd liked her and so had Rosanna. She pulls out a fresh loaf of bread along with some cheese and oil to keep it soft, setting everything on the table and carefully out of Dustin's reach. "She still lives in that old cave, you know."

"Does she really?" Roxane laughs and it's a sound like river water over smooth rocks, the sound of his youth that nearly makes him cry. He'd never thought he'd hear that sound again.

"She's the one that taught me how to grow my herbs in the fields. I can even grow the red anemones where the fire-elves get their honey." Jehan perks up at the mention of fire-elves, casting a wide-eyed glance at Dustfinger.

"Dad says you can control fire," Jehan says, drumming blunt nails on the table. "Is that true or just another story? 'Cause I've seen a fire-dancer in Ombra and he just looked like a greased up ham." Dustfinger can't hold back his snort and neither can the other adults in the room.

"That would be Sootbird," Dustfinger says. "He's never been able to convince the flames to do a single thing he wants." He steps up to the table, rubbing his fingers together until a shower of sparks rain down over the wood, rising up to form a likeness of the anemones Roxane has spoken of. There's terrified wonder in Jehan's gaze and Jaime scoots back some. "What's wrong, Wildes? Scared of a little fire?"

"He nearly died in a fire," Roxane says, and all the happiness is sucked out of him. He looks to Jaime again, noticing old burn scars along his arms and part of his neck, a bald patch near his ear where hair seems unable to grow again.

"What happened?"

"Fire-raisers," Jaime mutters, running his fingers over the top of Dustin's foot. "They decided to set our barn alight and I tried to save our livestock. Roxane pulled me out."

"Which fire-raisers?" A hard note creeps into Dustfinger's voice, the flowers on the table guttering and going out with a hissed word.

"Firefox, of course. They were feeling untouchable under the Adderhead's command and wanted Roxane to sing for them. When she refused, they decided to ruin our only source of income." Jaime lets out a tired laugh and shakes his head. "After she pulled me out, she set the goose loose and the damned thing bit Piper's ass." Behind him, Julianne lets out a brief laugh that she does her best to muffle.

"He still won't come around," she says when Dustfinger glances over at her. "He's too scared that our darling goose will remember what he tasted like and want another piece."

"Anyway, we've been growing herbs since then. We still keep a couple of good cows and a pig, but nothing like we used to." Jaime shrugs one broad shoulder, not seeming to care one way or another as long as his family is able to survive. It's a good sentiment, one Dustfinger shares.

"I noticed some herbs that usually only grow in the woods," Dustfinger says. "Do they grow so well here because you and Juli sing to them?" The women roll their eyes, Roxane cutting up some of the bread for Dustfinger and Jehan. Jaime steals a bit of cheese and hands it off to Dustin.

"The only people I sing for anymore are the boys," Roxane tells him.

"And what about you, Juli? Do you sing our boy the same lullaby that you did your sister?"

"Of course," she nods. "Family traditions and all that jazz. I also sing in Ombra on feast days and for the little Prince when he can't get to sleep. He's partial to the songs written by Tolkien." Dustfinger has no idea who this Tolkien is, but he's sure he'll find out eventually.

"I get to play with the Prince sometimes, too," Jehan says. "He likes to bother Brianna and the Princess when they're trying to read." That catches Dustfinger off guard, turning an incredulous look on his ex-wife.

"Brianna's living at the castle? She's only seventeen!"

"I don't like it much more than you do," Roxane says, a warning in her tone. Don't press me, that tone warns. I'll make a fire-elf's burn seem downright pleasant if you do. "She's been living at the castle for six years now, she reads for Her Ugliness and looks after the little Prince. She adores castle life and she's well protected under the care of the Adderhead's daughter, so who am I to chastise her?"

"You're her mother, that's who you are."

"She's happy, Dustfinger. Would you prefer her be here and miserable rather than accompanying Violante?"

"I'd rather her be safe."

"She's safe with Violante. She may be the Adderhead's daughter, but she hates him more than anyone else. He sent her to Lombrica when she was seven and she married Cosimo when she was twelve, she was a widow six years after that. Brianna's the only friend she has in that castle. She's a kind woman, she helps the poor around here even if her power only comes from being the child of a monster."

"Jacopo's birthday is next week," Jaime says, standing from the table and moving to put his arm around Roxane's shoulders. There's a warning in his gaze that neatly matches the one in Roxane's voice, back off. "Perhaps you can talk some sense into Brianna."

"Or you could just shut up and leave her where she is," Julianne puts in, moving to pick up her son. "Like Roxane said, she's happy."

"Enjoy your bread, Dustfinger. The rest of us still have a bit of work to do outside." Jehan stuffs his slice of bread in his mouth and runs out of the house with his parents following after him. Julianne stays behind, worrying at her lip again.

"I'm glad to see you again, Dusty."

She presses a kiss to his cheek and their son into his arms, and then she's walking out, too.

I've had Hellfire from Hunchback of Notre Dame stuck in my head for three days. Send help. I modeled Jaime after Taye Diggs in House on Haunted Hill if y'all are curious. I know in the book it's stated that Roxane's husband is named Jehan like their son, but I'm using Jaime so there's less confusion.