An early update as I'm off to Wales for the weekend!
Welcome to Bering and 'Sons'...
Chapter Five
"Helena, do we really need all this?" Myka whispered in an aside as their guide walked them through their temporary apartment and explained all of the available amenities. "We could have settled for something less swanky."
"Nothing is too good for you, darling," the inventor whispered back and stole a quick kiss. "Besides, if your days are to be filled with the potential for stress, I will fill your evenings with nothing but rest and relaxation. Something to keep in mind if either of your parents begin to test your patience."
They followed Christina and Mr Sanchez through the living room to the kitchen, bed rooms and finally the balcony, which gave the four of them a spectacular view of the Cheyenne mountain. Despite balking at the thought of how much money her fiancée must have spent, Myka had to admit that she appreciated being given the chance to see her childhood home from a new perspective.
They had arrived in Colorado Springs around midday, their plane having left South Dakota just before nine. Now, just past one o'clock, Helena signed for their apartment and committed them to paying for an entire month.
The moment their guide left them alone, Myka turned to Helena and grabbed her by the collar to pull her into a heated kiss. There were no words to express the joy she felt in that moment.
"I'm so glad you're here," the brunette murmured against a cheek once she released her partner. She sank into the inventor's arms and let her forehead rest against soft strands of raven hair. "I wouldn't like to be doing this alone." She could hear the cry of a hawk somewhere in the distance and the melodic hum of her child from one of the bedrooms close by. It was surreal hearing the two such familiar sounds coming together from two such different periods of her life. To be standing in the arms of her idol, best friend, lover and soul mate; a part of her still marvelled at the possibility.
"That was the idea, was it not?" Helena asked in reference to their discussions with Abigail. "No more trying to struggle through without help." She wrapped her hands over the American's hips and pulled her back into another lengthy kiss, capturing lips with her own again and again, washing away any lingering uncertainty.
Once they were all unpacked, the three of them hopped back in the car and drove into the city centre for lunch. They parked up within easy walking distance of the bookstore so that when they were finished they could split up.
The faces that Myka recognised as she walked down busy streets and sat with her fiancée and daughter in a side-street cafe, all looked twice as they spotted her. People she had been to school with, served at the store or who were friends and acquaintances of her parents; she smiled politely when they caught her eye but otherwise attempted to ignore their presence.
After re-fuelling, the American pointed her partner in the direction of some local sights, agreed that they would meet at the bookshop at four and kissed the Brit in plain view of the street. She walked in the opposite direction, a dreamy smile painting her lips until she came within sight of her name and that of her non-existent brothers.
The 'closed' sign was clearly visible as she approached and she pulled out her key to let herself in. A clear memory came to mind of walking through this door a couple of years ago, heartbroken, used and betrayed; she could never have imagined returning with so much happiness filling her. It wasn't without a sense of anxious anticipation though that she locked the door behind her and went in search of her mother.
Upstairs voices drew her attention and she followed them until she found herself standing in the living room doorway, watching her mother bustling around her father.
"Jeannie, it's barely a scratch, stop fussing," Warren complained. "What time's Myka getting here?"
The agent heard the barest note of excitement in her father's tone and smiled a little. "I'm here, Dad," she announced herself.
"About time," he grumbled, though there was enough of a sparkle behind his gaze not to give offence. "I don't know why everybody jumps to attention over a little fall, but it's good to see you anyway kiddo."
Myka felt a rare impulse to hug her father but decided that it could wait 'til he was standing. She didn't want to crush him. She had had the odd moment in the middle of the night when she would wake up and worry that she was crushing her lover but Helena always just smiled and cuddled closer. She watched as her parents' gazes shifted over her baby-bump and smiled to herself as they both struggled for words.
"I thought you were supposed to be staying in hospital another night?" she questioned with a frown, taking pity on their reticence and pretending that she hadn't noticed their hesitation.
He waved away her concern. "I'm not letting my premiums rocket for a trifling thing like this. Come in. Sit down," he barked abruptly.
Myka did as she was told and watched her mother make a quiet exit. Well, it's better than listening to more accusations, she thought. She could cope with uncomfortable silence. "What's the diagnosis?"
"A sprain," Warren mumbled and then at his daughter's hard look added, "And a slight crack," he admitted.
"And how long did they say you have to rest for?" Myka probed further.
"A few days should be enough. Hardly worth you having come so far but you may as well come and visit more often while you're around."
The observant agent saw the tell-tale signs of avoidance on her father's gruff features and frowned. "Why do I not entirely believe you?" she smirked.
Jeannie re-entered the room, carrying a tray and rolling her eyes. "That's because you have good instincts and your father is a terrible liar," she announced as she set the tray down and placed a hand on each hip. "Two weeks minimum, the doctor said." She took a cup from the tray and offered it to her daughter. "It's decaf," she explained briefly before disappearing again.
Myka barely had time to say a surprised 'thank you' and felt a sudden tingle at the back of her throat before she grabbed hold of her emotions and reined them in. "I can't help with much lifting around the store but Helena says she's happy to offer a hand too and Christina is eager to learn the ropes. She loves books and she's so excited about seeing the shop," she rambled, cutting through the awkward pause that her mother left in her wake.
Warren grunted. "Where is the little spitfire? I thought they were coming with you," he asked in confusion.
"I thought it best to test the waters before throwing them in here," Myka explained as she sipped her coffee and glanced at the door.
"Tracy's been on the phone with her almost every other day." Mr Bering coughed through his embarrassment and needlessly adjusted his sling. "Might've had a few words to say to me on the subject too," he added.
"I'd never have thought it," she said of her sister's involvement. "If I'd have given much thought to any of your reactions, I'm sure I'd have pictured this completely differently. Tracy's been a God send," she said, unaware of how those words would affect the older woman listening from the adjoining room. "Family is important to both Helena and I. You don't know how much it means to have Trace, Kevin and Daniel be a part of that."
"Give us time, Myka. Your mother loves you. She's worried for you," he added in defence of his wife.
Rolling her eyes a little, Myka nodded. She understood her mother's reasons; she just didn't accept or condone them. "I know, Dad. It doesn't make it right though... It doesn't make it hurt any less."
Eyes avoided direct contact for several heartbeats until, by silent, mutual agreement, they turned the topic to the store and recent business developments. At quarter to four, they were down on the shop floor, looking at the delivery rota for the coming weeks and deciding on the best times for Myka to come by and help.
Contrary to his usually strict adherence to business hours, Warren insisted on reduced opening times to accommodate Myka's condition, refusing to take no for an answer.
"Dad, I'm pregnant. I'm not the invalid here," she tried to remind him but he was having none of it.
"You've packed up your family to come here and help a stubborn, old man. No doubt you paid over the odds for that place you're staying at; I know it's not cheap, so I insist that you take the time to enjoy yourselves."
Myka hesitated between the rising affection in her belly and her own stubbornness. After a minute's staring match, she relented. "I suppose it would be nice to show Helena and Christina all my old haunts. But you have to promise that you're not going to sneak into work while I'm not here." She pointed her finger right at her father and fixed him with her hardest stare. "Mom and I might not be on the best of terms but if there's one thing I know I can count on, she will turn you in if you don't rest up like you're supposed to."
Warren Bering almost gawped at the strong, confident woman sitting opposite him. He had noticed subtle changes in her over the years but she had never been so forward in her dealings with him. "Is that any way to talk to your father?" he asked with a fraction of his usual force.
Myka refused to back away from his gaze, her eyes smiling at the shock on his face. "It is when I know that you rarely follow doctors' orders. I came here to help and you're going to let me help."
They were still bickering by the time a light tapping came from the door and the agent swung around to beam at the faces behind the glass. She pulled the key from her pocket and let in a whirlwind of energy... and her fiancée.
Christina took several quick steps and then paused to stare around, her impressionable mind taking in every little detail and marvelling at it all. "Gosh, Mama did you really used to live here?"
Myka locked the door behind the newcomers and met her lover's hello-kiss before addressing the question. "I grew up here. Remember I told you that I used to work in the shop with my Dad on Saturdays when I was your age?"
"She sure did," Warren moved from behind the register, eliciting a tiny jump and a back-step from the eight-year-old. "Best little helper I had, though I often lost track of her when she found a book she liked." He glanced fondly at his daughter and then back over his glasses at the young girl.
"Aunt Tracy didn't like working in the bookstore?" Christina asked, finding her confidence once again. Her Mama had warned her that Warren Bering liked to appear gruff and irascible, even more so than Grandpa Artie, but that he was actually a very caring person. His expression was certainly much less stern than the last time she'd seen him.
"Goodness, no. Tracy was much too interested in her parties and sleepovers. Couldn't get that girl to sit still for five minutes, let alone get her interested in staying in a place with a world of things that don't move." He pulled a stool from next to the counter and sat on it as he looked down into eyes that reminded him of his first-born. "Myka... Your Mama," he forcibly corrected himself. "She could spend hours here tucked up in a corner somewhere, devouring one book after another. Her mother used to badger her about making friends. She always insisted that these were her friends. Usually I found her in the science-fiction section," he added as he got caught up in the memory and missed the hint of panic on his daughter's face.
"Ok, Dad. How about a quick tour before we take off?" Myka asked as she tried to derail his train of thought.
Helena smirked knowingly. She had remained unobtrusive so as not to overly draw attention to herself but hearing this account of her lover's formative years, she couldn't help but make her thoughts known. "Where precisely in the science-fiction section?" she asked, ignoring her partner's segue.
Still ignorant of the silent exchange; the teasing that was unfolding right before him, he chuckled. "Oh, usually curled up with HG Wells."
Myka bit her lip and Helena grinned as she watched a tongue sooth over worried flesh. "Not much has changed there then."
Warren wondered at the heightened colour in his daughter's cheeks and finally gathered that the two women were communicating over some inside joke. He thought back on his words but couldn't see where they might have found the humour. "Did I miss something?"
Christina observed the interaction with a keen eye, watching the subtle way her parents played with words and sparked mischief. Usually, their teasing didn't make much sense to her but she felt a swell of something like pride as she recognised that Mr Bering knew nothing of their connection to the famed author. "It's Mummy's name. She is HG Wells," she offered helpfully.
Helena blushed slightly at her daughter's declaration. She turned a sheepish expression on her future father-in-law, who looked unbelievingly back at her. "Helena George Wells," she admitted.
"George?" Warren questioned, still not quite believing the coincidence.
"I believe the story goes that my mother intended it to be Georgina. There are varying accounts of interference from interested parties but in the end, George prevailed." The inventor suspected her grandmother's influence in the chosen appellation.
"Ah." Mr Bering nodded, finally understanding and choosing not to revisit the topic of their previous conversation now that the Brit's meaning was plain. It was one thing to accept that his daughter was happy in her relationship, but quite another to acknowledge the intricacies that entailed. "Well, how about that tour?"
Myka was quick to agree and followed behind her family while her father explained his system, pointed out the different sections and debated the need for more seating with Helena. As her partner fell into a debate about comfort for the customer and increased revenue for the business, she noticed her daughter's attention wavering and suggested that they visit her old bedroom. An excited bounce and sparkling eyes were all the answer she needed.
Christina grabbed her Mama's hand and followed her through the shop to the private entrance to the upstairs apartment. She took note of the boards that squeaked underfoot, unconsciously planning a quieter exit. Thoughts like that often slipped into her head without her realising what she was doing. It had become a game of sorts to practise being stealthy. At the top of the stairs, she could hear the sound of cupboards opening and closing, and looked up at her mother with questioning eyes.
Myka's gaze drifted down the hall for a brief second before turning back on her child with reassurance. "This way," she nodded in the opposite direction.
There were only a couple of small boxes stacked in one corner of her room as Myka entered, and she breathed a sigh that she wouldn't have to navigate a dozen crates just to find her bed. She watched her child's bright expression as the eight-year-old began to explore and sat down on the bed to enjoy the show. Christina's unabashed enthusiasm brought a wistful smile to the agent's lips and though her eidetic memory was recording everything anyway, she made particular efforts to store every little detail about the way the light bounced off dark curls and the sounds of inquisitive chatter echoed around them.
"Where are the secrets, Mama?" Christina asked as she finally stopped skipping around the room and came to a wobbly rest next to her mother.
"Secrets?" Myka wondered with a chuckle.
"Yes. You like treasures that hide behind puzzles," the girl pointed out logically. "Therefore, you have to have secrets in here."
Thinking that her daughter was very observant and remembering a particular puzzle that she'd solved, mostly through faith in her fiancée, she answered, "My greatest treasure currently in this room is you." She poked a dainty nose that twitched at her touch and laughed at the indignant expression that followed. "Secrets?" she repeated, only to be met with stern impatience at her teasing. "Ok, let me see."
Myka held a finger to her lips and let her eyes scan the room as her memory searched through years of squirreling away books, diaries and trinkets from prying eyes. Mostly those of her sneaky younger sister. She recalled the jewellery box that she'd removed on her last visit and a dozen other items that, for one reason or another, were no longer around. Soon, her gaze lighted on a chest of drawers.
"Mummy is much better at making hiding places than me," she explained carefully. "But I did have a trick or two up my sleeve whenever I really wanted to hide something from Tracy." She didn't add that she often wanted to hide things from her parents too. She didn't want to encourage more secrecy than was normal for an eight-year-going-on-nine-year-old.
"May I see?" the girl asked, her renewed bouncing making her curls dance.
Myka held out her right hand with all the fingers fisted but the last. "Pinky-swear never to tell anyone?"
Christina wrapped her smallest finger around the one offered and said in her most serious tone, "I swear, Mama."
The agent approached the piece of old furniture and opened the top, right-hand drawer. She felt around for a moment before finding the old piece of string she'd fixed there long ago, and pulled. There was a soft, sliding sound before something papery thudded to the floor behind the chest. Myka looked back at the occupant of the bed and grinned at the complete delight on her daughter's features. She winked before gesturing with her head for the girl to come over.
"Will you reach under there and grab that for me, please?"
The eight-year-old bounded across the room and, mindless of the dust, sank to her hands and knees to scrabble around for the discovered treasure. Her touch eventually found what she was looking for and she teased it closer before whipping it out in triumph. "I got it!"
Leading them back to sit on the bed, the adult pulled her daughter against her side. "My Dad was right about my friends being mostly books," she confessed without much regret. "These are letters that I used to write to my favourite characters and authors." She pulled the string from around the bundle and picked off the top one to hand to her curious child.
Christina handled the envelope with reverence and carefully brushed off a layer of dust to read 'L M Alcott, Beacon Hill, Boston, MA' beside a hand-drawn stamp. "Who is it to?" She asked after trying for a few seconds to work out who the author or character was.
"Among other things, she wrote a series of stories about a family of sisters, which people know today as 'Little Women'. It's a very good story. We'll have to read it sometime." She remembered every word written in that letter verbatim, but at the expression of bubbling curiosity in dark eyes, she told the eight-year-old to open it.
"Really?" Christina asked, open-mouthed with surprise.
Myka chuckled. "What good are secrets if you have no one special to share them with?"
The girl scrambled up onto her knees, threw her arms around her mother's shoulders and placed a kiss on her cheek. "You're special, Mama."
"Thank you, Sweetheart," the agent managed to whisper as she forced back the tears that sprang to her eyes. "Open it," she demanded.
As excitement grew, the girl carefully peeled open the back of the envelope and slid the letter from its confines. The decades old paper had yellowed slightly, somehow giving this moment greater significance. Christina unfolded the pages and handed them to her mother, insisting that the adult read her own words.
In the hallway beyond the small bedroom, Jeannie Bering once again listened in to the interaction between parent and child. She didn't normally condone eavesdropping, but at the insistence of her youngest daughter, she had agreed to take another look at her eldest child's unconventional relationship and try to see it with an open mind. Tracy had spent time with her sister's new family and could find no fault with them. Mrs Bering found this difficult to believe and after many conversations with the new mother, she not only worried that this 'Helena' was a poor influence on her little girl, but worried that other disapproving members of society might think to take matters into their own hands. She might not agree with Myka's choices but she still cared about her baby's safety.
She kept telling herself that she could persuade Myka to rethink her choices and return to the child she had known. She blamed her husband for making their daughter think that he wanted her to be a boy. She blamed herself for encouraging Myka to push harder and reach further to find her goals. Perhaps she should have taught the girl to be more traditional, but then she knew, as her husband had pointed out, that their daughter would have balked at the suggestion and would never have been truly happy.
She couldn't fathom how her baby was going to find her place in the home with no husband. The idea just would not settle in her mind. Tracy had tried to tell her that she had thought the same until she'd seen Myka and Helena together, but even with her youngest child's reassurance, she wasn't sold.
At her continued insistence that Myka couldn't possibly be able to maintain a stable environment for a family with another woman, Tracy had lost her temper and told her mother in no uncertain terms that Jeannie had to make an effort to see the evidence for herself.
So here she was. Originally determined to find the faults she knew were there, but struggling to maintain that belief as she witnessed the familial love between her daughter and the interloper's little angel.
It was Myka's laugh that had really drawn her attention. Yes, she had heard the footsteps on the stairs and knew that they weren't her husband's but mostly, she chose to ignore their presence. As her daughter's uninhibited joy filtered through to the kitchen though, curiosity got the better of her.
Now, she was torn. There was no denying that the new people in Myka's life were making her happy; particularly this adorable bundle of energy who now called her 'Mama'.
She thought back to the words she'd heard earlier that afternoon; the importance of family and the support Tracy was giving her older sister. 'God send' Myka had said. Those words acted on Jeannie in opposing directions. Her belief had always been at the heart of her sense of family, but 'family' was not what she saw between Myka and the woman she lived with.
For the first time, she began to wonder if the two were not as disparate as she'd first assumed. Certainly, she couldn't refute that Christina was a happy, healthy child who appeared no worse for her situation. She had pitied the girl and worried about the influences she was being subjected to but again, Myka's words came back to her; what better foundation could a child have than love and acceptance? Even from the humblest beginnings, these corner stones were of vital importance.
Thoughts swimming, Jeannie retreated from just beyond the doorway to Myka's old room and returned to the kitchen.
Helena despaired at Mr Bering's stubborn nature as she tried multiple times to make him see the benefits of change but rather than become fed up, she was buoyed by the challenge. Though she felt her efforts would bear no fruit today, she pictured the month ahead of them and made a mental note of the things she would have him agree to by the end of that period.
"I can see you're not going to be deterred easily but I warn you now, neither am I!" Warren insisted in his grouchiest tone. He watched the Brit's eyebrow rise in temporary acceptance and grunted to himself. "Stubborn. You're where she gets her gumption from lately."
HG smiled, pride filling her at the thought of her fiancée's growing confidence. "I like to think that I did something to help with that but she hardly needed it. I think she comes by it naturally because she's happy with who she is."
"She is happy, I'll give you that." Warren marched them back to the cash register and instructed the raven-haired woman to pull out his stocktaking record and place it on the counter. "I have no issues with your being here to help out so long as there are no shenanigans. I'll not have you making a scandal in front of my customers."
"You have my word," Helena agreed, tucking away any fantasy of making out with her lover in the science-fiction section. "Though I make no promise to deny my relationship with Myka, or not look at her like she is the beacon I cling to in the dark. I love her and I will not attempt to hide that."
"Huh, you certainly have a way with words. You talk like a book. I suppose that is part of the attraction," he mumbled to himself, not troubling to keep his thoughts to himself.
"I could wax lyrical about Myka from dawn 'til dusk, every day. Words are never truly enough though," the inventor lamented softly.
"There are no issues with either of you taking time away from your jobs then?" Mr Bering not so smoothly diverted the topic again. "I know you mentioned something about research when we met at Tracy's. I hope you're not still letting her chase after those dangerous objects?" He gazed over the top of his spectacles, his eyes hard as he waited to size up her reaction.
Helena bristled and felt a churning shame all at the same time. It annoyed her that he thought that she should dictate Myka's choices even as she knew that she had already made that mistake once. His enquiry came from a place of love and concern, and that was what she focused on as she formed her answer.
"Mr Bering you are aware that the nature of our work is somewhat... clandestine? It is not a career that one is ever truly able to leave, no matter one's desire to do so. As consultants and researchers, we are perhaps in the least hazardous path, but we are both aware that unique risks will continue to pass our way. We shall endeavour to meet them as a team." She paused to note his worried expression and continued, injecting a little more confidence into her tone. "She is a remarkable agent. You need not doubt her ability to protect herself and others, and I would die before I let her come to mortal harm. That said, I trust her to make her own decisions regarding her work, and she trusts me to talk to her if I have concerns."
"And you think that's enough?" the worried father continued to probe.
"It is a work in progress. It has not been easy for us to make compromises but we continue to try." She sighed and wondered briefly how much she really needed to tell Myka's father, but talking to someone else about these issues was somehow freeing. "Neither of us is easy with the lack of structure. We've been trying to turn our interests to our future and our family, but we are both driven by our careers and steering those ambitions in a different direction has been a challenge."
Warren nodded along, easily picturing his eldest chomping at the bit while sitting behind a desk. Despite the knowledge that Myka could happily spend hours reading, when her mind was not actively engaged, she was always off on one task or another. "She always wants something to keep her busy."
"I know that Myka has her doubts over being here with Christina and me for an entire month," Helena explained cautiously. "However, I believe that she is looking forward to being back in the shop."
"Well, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not saying that I'm happy to have fallen off a ladder, but if it brings my girl home for a while, I'll try to make the most of it," Warren joked a little to hide his disappointment over not seeing his daughter enough.
"You are always welcome to visit," HG reminded him. "We have more than enough room."
"Ah, well," he coughed to cover his awkwardness and thinking of his wife said, "We'll see how things get along over the next few weeks, shall we?"
"That is perhaps best," the inventor agreed ruefully. "I should see to where Myka and Christina have disappeared. We will need to be leaving soon," she noted as she looked at her watch and realised that over an hour had passed.
Hours later, after dinner out at one of Myka's favourite restaurants, a quick game of junior scrabble and the usual bedtime preparations, the tall agent slipped out of the cosy warmth of her temporary bed. She pulled her thick, fluffy dressing gown over her pyjamas, tugged on her winter slippers and wandered into the living room, expecting to find Helena pottering about with one thing or another. When a quick scan of the attached kitchen revealed no movement, Myka glanced at the door to the balcony and there found what she was looking for.
The night air was frigid with the crispness of spring, the warmth of the sun having disappeared behind the mountains long ago.
"Hey," Myka whispered into the semi-dark as she approached her fiancée. "Here you are." Her tone was not yet worried, but it held unspoken questions.
Helena's face angled toward the mountains, her expression teetering on a cusp between serene and thoughtful, though as she heard the opening of the door and her lover's voice, a smile tugged at her mouth. Her head turned to pick out her partner's figure in the dark and she held out a hand in supplication. "Join me?"
Not needing to be asked twice, the American slid into HG's arms, her own wrapping around a trim waist and her lips automatically finding her mate's. "Why are we standing out in the cold?" Myka murmured against the corner of the Brit's mouth once they came up for air.
Helena shifted to pull her partner closer and nuzzled into freshly washed hair. "Just... thinking."
Relaxing as she let her head flop against the inventor's shoulder, Myka breathed deeply, absorbing the tranquillity of the moment. "About?" she wondered aloud.
HG took a moment to consider her words carefully. Her thoughts had turned to the day she had spoken to Myka after her failed attempt to start another ice-age and the American's subsequent flight from all things Warehouse related. She didn't want to give her fiancée cause for alarm.
"You recall the day Mrs Fredrick allowed me to speak to you from Regent-prison?" She felt Myka stiffen in her arms and stroked her hands tenderly across the brunette's back. "I was just thinking about how fortunate I was to be in the shop with you today, in the flesh... Now, I'm thinking that I am very fortunate to be able to physically hold you." She kissed Myka's forehead and sighed. "There have not been many moments in my life when I have taken the time to simply appreciate what I have."
"I think that can be said of most of us," Myka said as she turned her head against Helena's shoulder to gaze at the faint silhouette of the mountains against the sky. Taking her cue from the Brit, she memorised the skyline and her lover's scent; the sound of the wind moving through branches and the security of knowing that she was in strong arms with nothing more pressing to do than sleep.
It felt good to be active and useful but sometimes it felt better to take a moment to just... absorb.
Up next... Myka's birthday!