An hour later, Jeremy nodded off resting his head on her shoulder; his tiny hand clutched her shirt collar. Now would be a good time for her to eat a little food. Moving from the dining room to the kitchen, she opened her cupboards and looked for what might be edible.
The last time she was up there she bought a whole bunch of formula and toddler food. Unfortunately, there wasn't much money left for her food, but she had some canned foods, a couple boxes of crackers, and synthetic peanut butter.
Reaching up, she pulled out a can of peaches. Using her powers, she opened the can, grabbed a fork, and ate the fruit at the kitchen counter. A soft snore from Jeremy let her know how deeply he slept. A part of her wondered if maybe she should have stayed with the group when she found out that she was pregnant. It would cause strife, she had no doubt about that, but he would be with people who could understand his powers…if he ever got them.
So far Jeremy hasn't had any power flares, nothing exploded around him, and he didn't suddenly change the furniture pink. Maybe he never would get powers; it was possible that a human and an alien hybrid made a complete human baby. Or Jeremy might not have developed them yet. Breathing deeply, Liz rubbed his dark blonde head; she'd deal with that issue if it ever came to pass.
The group knew that she was pregnant when she left, she told them she was, but they didn't know where she had gone after she left them, whether or not she kept the baby; they knew nothing, and she wished that weren't the case.
It would have been nice to have friends to share her joy with. Maria would have doted on him, even knowing who his father was. Maria had such a warm and forgiving soul, she might have been upset with her, but she'd never let that get in the way of loving a child.
Liz kissed Jeremy's temple and took another bite off the peach dangling from her fork. She regretted that her son missed out on a whole group of people loving him; she regretted that she never told Michael that he was going to be a father.
Sure she told the group that she was pregnant, but not who fathered the baby. She and Michael were never exclusive; neither wanted to be, or at least that's what they told themselves. Whether it was the truth or just what they wanted the other to believe, she felt that they would have become exclusive if she told him Jeremy was his.
Having only eaten half of the can, she grabbed the lid and sealed it back onto the can. When she was done she, placed the half-empty can into the fridge. Walking back into the living room, she gently lifted Jeremy up off her hip and put him down in his playpen. She'd unpack some things while he was napping; hopefully he'd stay asleep for a couple of hours.
Reaching over him, she grabbed his blanket and placed it on top of him. Once she was sure he wouldn't wake when he was off her hip, she opened the nearest box, various knick-knacks from her bedroom back above the Crashdown.
Liz set aside that box; she had a box labeled lamps somewhere. The one light above her wouldn't do when nightfall came. She pushed two boxes out of the way and found what she was looking for. Pulling out the two lamps she once had in her bedroom, she placed them on the two end tables, one by the couch and the other in the corner by the easy chair.
Dad had purchased the chair for her, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he got it for himself whenever he came over. He complained that the old couch Mom gave her was uncomfortable, so he wanted a place where he could sit comfortably.
Once she plugged in the lights, she stepped back and made sure they were exactly where she wanted them to be. The blue lamp in the corner by the chair needed to be pushed back a little. Where it was now made it seem like an interrogation chair.
A few more adjustments, and she was satisfied with the placement. Next, she moved toward the boxes of books, both from her room and a couple from the living room that her parents had either finished reading or weren't interested in reading.
Opening the box labeled books she saw a leather bound book that looked very familiar. Picking it up, she opened the cover, and out fell a folded piece of paper. Bending down she picked it up but didn't read it, instead she read the first page.
Property of Elizabeth Parker.
The page was a little battered from constant opening and closing. It was her journal. The journal she told Dad and Mom to destroy so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. Why did they keep this?
Needing answers she unfolded the letter that fell from the journal. Pretty cursive writing filled the page, her Mom wrote the letter.
Liz,
We know you're going to be upset over your father and I not destroying this. We have no excuse except we couldn't do it. Not in good conscious. It was the last deeply personal thing we had of you, there was no way we could demolish that last link to you. We had no idea if you'd ever come home; we held out hope, of course, but never truly knew for sure.
If you still want to destroy this journal, I understand, but I beg of you don't. It not only holds what happened to you during those three years, it also holds your thoughts, feelings, and events from two years before that. Your father and I would hate for you to get rid of this and then regret it. By then it'd be too late.
Whatever you decide, we support you, but think long and hard before you decide.
We'll see you this weekend. Love you, sweetie.
Love,
Mom and Dad
Closing the letter, she held the journal close to her heart. She was frustrated that her parents didn't do what she asked them to, but she was also immensely grateful. The journal held everything that she thought, felt, experienced, fantasized, and hoped about.
When she thought she'd never come home again, she had wanted Mom and Dad to get rid of it forever so it didn't fall into the wrong hands. Now she was glad her parents didn't do it; the moments that were written in those pages were too precious to burn away.
Slowly she put the handwritten letter Mom wrote back in the front of the journal and put it on the couch next to her. She'd put it somewhere safe once she was done in the living room.
Turning back to the open box, she bent down and began to pull out books, both hard backs and paperbacks. Needing a bit of order to her novel collection, she sat on the ground and began organizing them. First she separated them by genre, then author, series, and finally publishing date.
Liz didn't know what it was about her books, but she needed them to be organized, or it would bother her till she did something about it. Yea, she wasn't ashamed to admit it; there were certain things that she was anal about. It kept her sane in an insane world. For the next thirty minutes, she organized and placed the books on the bookshelf.
TBC