A Way Home

Chapter 5 – Struggles

"One step away/ from where we were/ And one step back/ to nothing/ And we're standing on top/ of hopes and fears/ And we're fighting/ for words now/ Concrete girl/ And we're swimming/ around again, again/ And we're swimming/ around now/ Concrete girl."

-Concrete Girl, Switchfoot

-

"Mom," I said, "I have to go back."

My mother didn't answer me as she continued to make the lasagna. She was making it for me. She had invited our family over for dinner, and didn't seem to understand my dilemma.

"Nonsense," she replied after a long moment. "You're staying right here and forgetting all of this crap about time traveling and that sort of thing. You just put on a little weight is all."

"Mom, you can't pretend like nothing has happened. The Council told you the truth. And if they had it their way, they would go back in time and kill Charity and Dominique."

My mother dropped a spoon into the sink with a clatter.

"You can't possibly be telling the truth, Hon," my mother said. "You're delirious."

"I'm not, mom," I said. "You are if you think that you can keep me here." I crossed my legs. "Besides, if anyone in the family sees me, then they will eventually guess that something is going on when I disappear again, and you have to pay for a second funeral."

My mother stopped what she was doing and leaned over the sink, as though trying hard to control herself.

"You are not my daughter," she said finally. "And you don't have to listen to me."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You are my sister's child," she said. "When you were very small, your mother was arrested for drugs, alcohol and the suchlike. You were brought here. Shortly after, your mother died. So myself and my husband were given legal custody of you." She turned to look at me. "You were so small; you couldn't remember your real mother anymore. You started calling me your mother, and I didn't have the heart to correct you."

"I'm adopted?" I asked. I had always suspected it, but had never really wanted to believe it.

"I couldn't have children of my own," she said, a tear trickling down her cheek.

Then I realised what she was trying to do.

"Mom," I said, trying to be as gentle as possible, "you can't guilt me into staying. I will leave, whether you can have children or not. Even if you were on your death bed, I would probably leave. I love you very much, mom," I said, "but there is no way in hell that I would abandon my children."

"You would leave me on my death bed?" she asked, turning to me, her voice suddenly cold.

"I would wait until you were gone. Then I would pay my respects, and I would leave the rest to your brother," I said. I knew that it must have sounded cold-hearted, but she had withheld from me my origins, and she wanted to keep me away from my family; she wanted me to pretend that nothing had happened, that I wasn't married, and that Charity, Erik, and Dominique didn't exist.

She looked hurt, but I meant every word I said, and it was important that she knew that, although I loved her very much, my immediate family was more important to me than her. I knew it sounded cruel, but it was the truth, and she needed to know it.

"I love you, mom," I said. "But Erik, Charity, and Dominique are more important to me than you are. I know it sounds mean, but it's the truth. Just like a few years ago you told me that your relationship with Dad was more important to you than your relationship with me. It's the same thing." I turned away a little, trying to be as direct as I could about the situation.

"Besides," I added, "there's more danger in the nineteenth century than there is here." I looked her in they eye, and winced at the hurt there. "I have to protect my family. In the nineteenth century, the law doesn't listen to children. If Erik is arrested again – wrongly so, I might add – then there is no one to take care of our children. They would be put in an orphanage. The conditions there are horrible. I've seen them. I went to take a look there in advance when I was pregnant with Charity, just in case something happened to me and Erik."

My mother said nothing and, after a long moment, I stood. "I'm sorry, mom," I said. "But I have to go now. I can't leave my family. I can't abandon them." I took a deep breath, trying to reconcile with her. "I know it's a hard concept to grasp," I said, "but it's the only way I can explain things to you. I'm sorry."

Then I turned to leave.

"Rebecca."

I turned back around. "Yes, mom?"

"I love you," she said, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek.

"I love you, too, mom," I said, my throat closing as I choked down my own tears. Then I ran up to her and gave her a fierce hug. "Even if I live the rest of my life in the nineteenth century, I will still love you," I whispered.

She just nodded, and I released her. Wiping a tear from my eye, I grabbed my bag and went outside to wait for the limo to pick me up. When it came, I had composed myself enough so that I could be brave as I left what was left of my old life behind and returned to my new life, in the past.

Staring out the window at the cars passing by, I wondered what Erik was doing right then…

-

He stared out the window at the footsteps of the people passing by. He saw the feet of a small child. Charity. He missed his little girl. Where could she be? Henri had been able to convince the judge not to put him to death – probably with the help of a lot of money – and now Erik was wasting away in a jail cell, never to know what had happened to his wife and child. Children. Rebecca would probably have had their second child already.

Rebecca, who had naturally been quite tall, had been a head shorter than Erik, and he had always teased her about her height. He remembered the jokes they would make together.

He remembered that morning, when the police had come…

He had woken up to find Rebecca holding a steaming pot of her terrible porridge over him.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," she had grinned evilly at him.

"Don't you dare," he had growled, and had chased her into the kitchen, where Charity was using charcoal on the walls.

"No, sweetie, not on the walls," Rebecca had said, taking the charcoal from her hands. "On the floor, under your rug, Hon."

Charity had run into her room with the charcoal then, and had left Erik alone with Rebecca.

Rebecca had slopped the porridge into his bowl, handed him a spoon, and then put the pot away.

"How are you feeling?" Erik had asked.

"Oh, I'm alright," she had replied. "Although I could go for a slurpee right about now."

"Remind me what a slurpee is again?" Erik had asked.

"It's a frozen pop drink," she had replied.

"Nevermind," Erik had said, knowing that then she would have to explain again what a pop drink was.

"Wake up, ugly!" Someone rapped a stick against his bars. "Lunch time!" The guard yelled, and then coughed into the food. Erik wrinkled his nose, but took the food, not being completely particular about germs.

Rebecca had explained to him what germs were, and how it was important to stay clean. Charity had never liked it, but she had gone along with it because Erik had said she should. Erik had known for a fact that Charity had idolized her father, and that was why he had never mentioned his past in front of her. He didn't want her to become like him: a murderer, and a thief.

But now he had been accused, arrested, and thrown in jail, for something he hadn't done. Now he couldn't be there for Charity, as well as his and Rebecca's second child whose name he didn't even know. He knew that, although he was overprotective of Rebecca, she could, overall, handle most situations herself. But that was only so long as she was the only one involved. He didn't want to lose his wife and children.

Erik missed his family more than anything in the world. He just wanted to go home.

A/N: There is the next chapter! Hope you like it! Enjoy!