"What about that house?" Ophelia asked as she pointed at a house two blocks down, shaking Morticia out of her brooding state.
"How can you make out that house?" Mrs. Frump asked, rolling down the car window on her side of the car and straining her neck to look. "It's too far! Hector, why don't you drive down there so we can take a look?"
The Frumps have been driving around the outskirts of West Parker University's campus for almost one and half hours in search for Morticia's and Ophelia's new home for the next four years during their stay at West Parker. They already spent thirty minutes scouting the inside campus and found no dorm that fit their liking. Though very reluctant to come, and very much bored, it was Morticia who suggested that they should try looking for an apartment outside the campus grounds.
It was already the third week of August, that was why most apartments were full or already reserved. The other apartments which were still accepting tenants were either too clean or too loud for both Morticia and Ophelia.
"Oh, it's perfect!" Ophelia murmured excitedly, as Mr. Frump parked in front of the house she saw.
"It is condemned," Morticia commented, clearly amused of her sister's definition of the word perfect. She eyed the house with apparent intrigue. Never has she seen a house so disheveled that most of its roof shingles were falling off; its windows, if not cracked, were boarded up; the screen door on the about-to-collapse porch were hanging by just a rusty hinge; and upon further scrutiny, the front door was splintered and needed a new painting job. Actually, the whole house seemed to be abandoned for at least five years that its walls were stained with water marks and the white finishing it used to have was tinted with a thick layer of dust and dirt.
But what truly caught Morticia's attention was a big willow tree planted beside the house with some of its branches touching the balcony of one of the rooms in the second floor.
"So?" Ophelia asked, looking at her sister strangely. "I have always dreamt of living in a haunted house, and this is pretty close."
"You really like this house?" Mrs. Frump asked, eyeing the dilapidated dwelling with great distaste. "It looks like it is about to collapse the moment you stop foot in it."
"Please, Mother, do not exaggerate," Ophelia almost scoffed. "I do like this house, don't you, Morticia?"
Morticia dropped her gaze from the willow tree and faced her sister with a very rare but purely happy smile that made her blue eyes sparkle. "I do… very much. I think this house is lovely."
"You think this house is lovely?" questioned a middle aged woman from an overgrown bush that almost hid her from view.
"Yes, my sister and I believe so," Ophelia answered brightly.
Morticia, however, eyed the woman with apparent interest. She tilted her head to one side and asked politely, "Pardon me for asking, but who are you?"
The woman stepped out of the bushes to reveal that she was wearing a worn out jeans and oversized black collared shirt. Her black cowboy boots were thinly covered with dirt, as if the woman was tending her garden before seeing the Frumps. "I am Elizabeth Parker," she said. "I am the caretaker of this house."
"I doubt that you truly took care of this house," Mrs. Frump murmured to herself, unaware that everyone heard her snide comment.
"Oh, I do, Madam," Elizabeth replied to Mrs. Frump's rude comment. "I do my best to maintain this house according to the owner's wishes."
"I see," Ophelia commented, her awe-struck eyes showing how impressed she was.
"You mean to say that this house if not abandoned?" Morticia questioned softly.
"Not at all, my dear," Elizabeth answered with a casual smile. Morticia felt herself growing fond of the caretaker for some unknown reason, "I live in the cottage behind this house with my son, Christian. He and I keep the main house in shape."
"It is in shape, indeed," Mrs. Frump sarcastically said.
"Esmeralda, stop it," Mr. Frump reprimanded. He glared at her pointedly, which she returned stubbornly.
Choosing to ignore Mrs. Frump's airheaded responses, Elizabeth turned to Morticia and Ophelia. "Would you like to come inside and have a look around?"
"No, we'd rather not," Mrs. Frump said before either Morticia or Ophelia could respond. "Come along everyone, we will look for other apartments."
"Esmeralda, I told you, stop it!" Mr. Frump scolded. "You got to decide where your daughters go to in college; now let them decide where they want to stay."
"Thank you, Father," Ophelia replied, rolling her eyes in exasperation towards her mother. She looked at Morticia, knowing that they were thinking of the same thing: that Mr. Frump just voiced out Morticia's thoughts.
Morticia turned to Elizabeth with a slight, contented smile. "Please lead the way, Mrs. Parker. We would love to see the whole house."
Elizabeth returned her smile before fetching a ring of keys from her belt holster. She walked to the porch, which of course, did not collapse under her weight. At the sight of the screen door hanging by a single hinge, Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.
She took out a screw driver from her back pocket and unscrewed the screen door from its hinge. With slight effort, she moved it aside. She turned to the Frumps, and apologized. "I am sorry you have to see that. I will have the door fixed by tomorrow morning, don't worry."
She unlocked the front door and held out a welcoming hand as she smiled invitingly at them. Morticia and Ophelia excitedly stepped onto the porch, which still did not collapse, ready to enter the house. Mr. Frump followed them but their mother stubbornly stayed put.
"I will not enter that house! It's unstable!" she almost cried out.
"Madam, I assure you that it will not crumble," Elizabeth persuaded.
"Oh, just let her be, Mrs. Parker," Morticia said in a low voice. Then she turned to her mother, shrugging, "You do not have to come in."
"True," Ophelia added with a trace of irritation crossing her usually perky eyes. "You can just stay outside while we take a look around the house."
Before Mrs. Frump could reply or even open her mouth to respond, the four of them piled inside the house, slamming the door loudly. Having no choice, she leaned on the car and waited rather impatiently.
Upon entering the house, Elizabeth pulled down a lever on the wall and a dim light flooded the receiving area. The three Frumps were instantly impressed with the décor and furniture. The walls were covered with faded maroon wallpaper that was peeling off at some areas, showing the true color of the walls, which were the lightest granite gray.
The entrance was at the dead center of the house. On their right was a coffee brown, long couch facing an old television set placed upon a vast mahogany cabinet with a low table between them. On their left was a brick red fireplace with a pair of worn out but comfortable-looking armchairs. On top of the fireplace was a mantelpiece, waiting to adorn memoirs. The source of the dim light was a simple yet elegant piece of chandelier hanging on the first floor's ceiling.
Stepping further in the house, Ophelia saw a magnificent kitchen, obviously made during the medieval times. In front of the stove stood a handsome breakfast nook and opposite that was a mahogany table that seats four.
What truly excited Morticia was the wild garden beyond the kitchen and dining area. The place was full of overgrown weeds and wild flowers. Ophelia joined her sister and started planning where to plant her daisies, almost starting an argument between her and Morticia.
"My daisies can beautify this garden! I can plant them around the perimeter, leaving the center open so I can water them easily. Or I can plant different species of daisies. I can divide the garden in several rows – or columns, I cannot decide which is better! Anyways, I think –"
"What about Cleopatra?" Morticia interrupted. Her voice was soft, trying to mask her sudden irritation. Though she tried to sound nonchalant, Morticia could not stop herself from raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.
"Sorry, what?" Ophelia asked distractedly. She stepped on the overgrowth and started imagining where she would be planting her daisies. This made Morticia more irritated.
"Where will I put Cleopatra?" she almost snapped, sounding each word with too much precision for she could not further hide her irritation. "You perfectly know that Cleopatra is allergic to your daisies."
"Well, she can have a pot and stay in your room," Ophelia replied shortly. Now, she was miming how she would be watering and pruning her daisies. She was prancing around the garden, oblivious of her sister's ire.
"And where am I supposed to plant my nightshade, wolfsbane, hemlock, larkspur, moonflower, poison ivy, henbane, hyacinth, mandrake, ragwort, lily of the valley –"
"My dear sister!" Ophelia exclaimed in shock. "Your plants are very vicious! They will choke my precious daisies if they will be too near!"
Morticia was aghast. She stared at Ophelia with wide eyes showing how she could not believe that her sister was denying her to touch any part of the garden, despite that she would also be living there with her.
But before Morticia could say anything, Mr. Frump put his hand on her shoulder as a sign of warning. He also gave her a slide shake of the head to stop her. At the same time, Elizabeth spoke from behind them, giving them a jump as they have forgotten she was with them.
"This garden is quite large, you can share it without compromising either of your plant preferences," she said. She stepped further in the garden and pointed at one side of the house. "This even extends to the right side of the house, just beside the willow tree."
Morticia followed Elizabeth to the garden and looked at the willow tree she was pointing at, which was the same tree she was admiring earlier. She glanced up at the balcony which the tree's branches were touching. Without another word, she stepped back inside the house, seeming to forget the garden argument she almost had with her sister. Ophelia, Mr. Frump, and Elizabeth just stared at her, saying nothing.
Just before the receiving area, almost blending to the wall separating the kitchen from the receiving room was a staircase leading to the second floor which Morticia did not notice earlier because of her fascination to the garden. Not bothering to be granted permission to go upstairs nor inviting anyone to come with her, Morticia climbed the stairs to explore the second floor.
Upon reaching the second floor landing, Morticia could not stop herself from letting out a gasp of admiration. The weak afternoon light was streaming in the hallway of the second floor through both of the floor-to-ceiling, but slightly narrow windows located at the both ends of the hallway. Their locations were very fortunate for Morticia because neither is located at the east, meaning neither would permit the nastily strong morning light in.
On the right of the upstairs landing was another receiving area, though slightly smaller than the one downstairs. And instead of cushioned armchairs, big, velvet-covered pillows were strewn around. Morticia just noticed then that the Oriental rug underneath the pillows was seamlessly attached to the brown, dust-encrusted wall-to-wall carpet that sprawled on the whole of upstairs.
Remembering the willow tree outside that intrigued her, Morticia opened the only door on her left, revealing a vast bedroom. Just as she stepped on the carpet-free, wooden floor of the room, Ophelia, Mr. Frump, and Elizabeth arrived from downstairs.
Morticia heard Ophelia murmur words of amazement from the opposite bedroom, but was too distracted from the simple beauty of the room she was in to see what pleased her sister.
Just like downstairs, the walls of the room were light granite gray with peeling maroon wallpaper. There was a wooden wardrobe behind the door and another door beside it, which she assumed as the bathroom for she did not bother to look behind it. On the right of the bedroom door was a double-sized bed with a writing desk in right next to it. And beyond the desk was a wooden framed door with translucent glass. This door led to the balcony where the willow tree from the garden below reaches out.
Morticia stepped outside and looked up, realizing that the afternoon sun was facing her. She smiled, glad that this glorious bedroom was facing west, away from the sun during its harsh hours.
"Oh, this is bigger than the other rooms," Ophelia said as she entered the room, making Morticia jump in surprise.
"Is it, really?" Morticia asked, regaining her composure.
"Yes," Ophelia answered. She opened the other door and confirmed Morticia's hunch of it being a bathroom. "The other two rooms have a single bed each, a smaller wardrobe, a slightly smaller writing desk, and a bathroom with just a toilet and a sink. There is a shower at the end of the hall but no tub. This room has one, though."
"I see…" was Morticia's only response with a slight sinking feeling. As much as she wanted this room, she would have to give it to Ophelia if she wants it, which of course she does. This is not because Ophelia is demanding to have the better share, but it is innate for Morticia to be generous, even to things she truly want.
"The balcony is facing west, though," Ophelia said before Morticia could open her mouth to offer her twin sister this room.
"I'm sorry?" Morticia asked, confused.
"My daisies need sunlight," Ophelia replied, pointing on the daisies planted on her head, by way of explanation.
"Oh. But this room is bigger."
"It doesn't matter. The other room has a magnificent view of the city, anyway. And though this room faces the campus, that big tree blocks it so, nevermind. And I can see how much you want this room."
Ophelia left with a swish of her blonde hair and her white skirt, leaving Morticia to savor her luck of owning the room she wants. After a few moments, though, she followed her sister and closed the bedroom door.
By the time she rejoined her sister in the upstairs receiving area, Ophelia was enthusiastically telling Mr. Frump how much she wants to stay in this place.
"… is just so wonderful. And this house is just a few minutes' walk away from the campus. Oh, please, Father? Here comes Morticia, you want to stay here, too, right?"
"Very much," Morticia agreed, smiling serenely.
"Well that settles it," Mr. Frump said, returning the smiles of his daughters. He looked at Elizabeth who was also smiling. "Shall we talk about the rental rate of this house while the girls get their things in the car?"
"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "Let me just call my son so he can help them unload their baggage."
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and opened it, letting a warm breeze enter. She put two fingers in her mouth and blew, letting out a shrill sound. As Morticia, Ophelia, and Mr. Frump look through the window, a tall and tanned young man emerged from a cottage not too far out and looked back at them.
"What, Mother?" he asked, shouting to be heard from his position.
"Help these ladies get their things!" Elizabeth shouted back. "They will be renting this house!"
"I'll meet them on the porch!" he replied before jogging towards the front of the house.
"Is that your son?" Ophelia asked in a rather breathy voice, just as Morticia asked incredulously, "Is that where you live?"
Elizabeth laughed at the girls' curiosity. "Yes to both of your questions. That is Christian and we live over there."
"You can further ask Elizabeth, Morticia and Ophelia," Mr. Frump said, handing Ophelia the car keys. "But you better go downstairs to meet Christian as your mother might freak out at the sight of him. Besides, you still need to get your things from the car."
"Yes, Father," Morticia replied, smiling teasingly at Ophelia. Together, they went downstairs. But the moment they were out of earshot of either their father or Elizabeth, Morticia poked Ophelia on the hip and continued smiling at her mischievously and said, "So…"
"So?" Ophelia asked trying in vain to sound innocent.
"Oh, no, Ophelia," Morticia said while she was unable to hide her amusement. "You cannot pull that faux innocence at me. I perfectly know why you asked Mrs. Parker whether that young man is her son."
"Really?" Ophelia asked, giving up her fake nonchalance but now trying to sound testy. She raised an eyebrow at her sister.
Morticia also raised an eyebrow but remained smiling at Ophelia. She leaned closer to her as they opened the main door and whispered, "Yes. Would you like me to test if what I have in mind is true? Christian is just outside this very door."
"You wouldn't dare, Morticia Anesthesia Frump!" Ophelia cried, slamming the heavy door closed. Her eyes were almost bulging out in panic, in which Morticia could not stop herself from chuckling after looking at. "Morticia, no! Please!"
"I was just teasing, Ophelia," she replied consolingly, though the smile still has not left her face.
"You better!" Ophelia said, slightly scowling. But after seeing how happy her twin sister was, she gave up and smiled in return. "I honestly do not know if I should be happy or not because you are smiling at my expense."
Choosing not to reply, Morticia just opened the door, coming face-to-face with Christian. Just as they noticed from upstairs, he was tall and tanned. But more than that, he has toned muscles visibly bulging from his tight-fitting black shirt. His chestnut hair was attractively untidy and perfectly framed his angular face. And his eyes was probably the most striking feature of his face, they were bright and friendly, and as green as the moss usually seen in ponds.
He immediately flashed them a crookedly handsome smile that reached his eyes, making him more attractive if that was even possible, the moment he saw Morticia and Ophelia. Morticia noticed that his smile faltered slightly but his cheeks flushed when his eyes fell on Ophelia. She did not have time to point this out to her sister because their mother was going berserk.
"Mother? What is wrong?" Ophelia asked coming towards Mrs. Frump.
"Who is that man?!" Mrs. Frump cried pointing an accusing finger at Christian. "I heard a shrill whistle followed by shouting and then he came from the bushes and went straight to the front door and the two of you came out! How am I supposed to know that he is not here to attack you and Morticia?"
Mrs. Frump stopped talking, realizing that she spoken concern for Morticia which surprised her, but probably not more than her daughter. The sudden concern towards her surprised Morticia that she became rather stony, for Mrs. Frump usually ignored her existence. Ophelia seemed to be thinking along the same lines because she flashed her sister a surprised look, which seemed to reflect the reaction on Morticia's face. An awkward silence enveloped them, which even Christian noticed. The silence was pressing against them in heavy pressure until Christian finally decided to introduce himself to Mrs. Frump.
"Ma'am, I am Christian Parker, the son of Elizabeth Parker. We are the caretaker of this house," he said extending out a hand. He gave her a slight reassuring smile which Mrs. Frump did not return. "I will not attack your daughters, I assure you that."
Christian's voice woke the three female Frumps from their shocked trances. Morticia unfroze herself but remained quiet as Ophelia unlocked the car to hide her mixed emotions. Mrs. Frump, however, adapted her usual curt attitude and raised an eyebrow as she eyed Christian's extended hand. She crossed her arms, obviously against shaking his hand. Instead, she spoke to Ophelia.
"What are you doing unloading your baggage from the car?" she asked, watching her daughter, with the assistance of Christian, taking out the suitcases she and Morticia packed earlier that day.
"Father already agreed that we take this house," Ophelia replied. She beckoned Morticia closer to help her take out a big box from the trunk of the car.
"Let me take that," Christian said after he put down Morticia's suitcase on the pavement in front of the house. He brushed Ophelia's shoulder on the way and the two of them blushed, which Morticia only saw.
"But I did not," Mrs. Frump said.
Ophelia shrugged. "Father is already transacting with Mrs. Parker."
Mrs. Frump huffed in reply. She silently watched Morticia, Ophelia, and Christian unload boxes from the car. Her eyes narrowed every time Christian comes near, visibly showing her hostility. Soon, they were joined by Mr. Frump, who was pocketing his wallet, and Elizabeth, who immediately helped unload the boxes they brought.
Mrs. Frump gave her husband a glare.
"What?" Mr. Frump asked.
"How could you let them take this house?" she hissed, still glaring at him.
"For goodness' sake, Esmeralda, drop it!" he said. "The girls like this house. We have been scouting for how many hours and this is the only house that they like not because you like it. Let them be. They are adults now, they can decide for themselves."
"Can they?" she retorted. "Morticia wanted to go to Salem. Was that an adult decision?"
"Morticia still wants to go to Salem. And yes, that is an adult decision because she knows what she wants!"
"After what happened to Esther?"
"She knows what happened –"
"Then she knows why she shouldn't –"
"No, because of that she knows why she should –"
"Stop talking nonsense, Hector –!"
"You are the one talking nonsense, Esmeralda –!"
"I want what's best for my daughters!"
"But what you think is the best may not be what the best is for them!"
"Are you saying I do not know what is that best -!"
"All I am saying is that you do not know what they want!"
"Of course, I do!"
"Tell me, then!"
"Ophelia wants to explore the extent of her head's capability of growing plants!"
"And Morticia?" Mr. Frump asked quietly.
Mrs. Frump did not reply, not because Morticia, Ophelia, Christian, and Elizabeth were already staring at her and Mr. Frump, having already unloaded the last box and their argument was not entirely hushed, but because she did not know what Morticia wants.
"You do not even know what Morticia wants?" Ophelia questioned quietly.
"She doesn't have a dream," Mrs. Frump defended. "All she does is defy me!"
"That 'she' you are talking about is here, and her name is Morticia, my sister. Should I add the fact that she is your daughter?"
"I know that!"
"But you do not know that she wants to be a witch because –"
"It does not matter, Ophelia," Morticia interrupted, speaking in an almost inaudible voice. Her eyes were on the ground, not looking at anyone or anything.
"But, Morticia…" Ophelia started but her sister shook her head.
"I think we should go inside and unpack out things," was all she said before turning around. She pulled out the handle of her suitcase, pulled it with her as she picked up a box, and walked towards the house.
Feeling that they were trespassing the family's privacy, Christian and Elizabeth followed Morticia, carrying boxes they could carry and entered the house without another word.
"Why does she want to become a witch?" Mrs. Frump quietly asked Ophelia, whose eyes were shining with tears.
"You should ask her, not me," she replied, wiping off the tears in her eyes. She turned around, dragged her suitcase with her, carried another unpicked box, and left her parents alone.
Mrs. Frump looked desperately at her husband, quietly demanding an answer for her question. But Mr. Frump just picked up a big box and followed her daughters inside the house, completely ignoring his wife.
"Darling?" Mr. Frump knocked on Morticia's bedroom door. She looked up from her unpacking on the floor, quietly recognizing her father's presence. Knowing this drill by heart, he entered the room and sat on her bed. He was quiet for a while, but spoke up to break the dismal silence. "You have a beautiful room."
"This is just bigger than Ophelia's," she replied quietly. She took several dresses out of her luggage and individually put them in hangers provided by Elizabeth, before hanging them in the wardrobe.
"Yes, but you have a magnificent tree outside your balcony," Mr. Frump said. "And I doubt that the sun shines here during the morning."
"True," Morticia agreed with a slight smile.
"That's better. You smiling, I mean," Mr. Frump said. He sighed sadly. "I am sorry about your mother, Morticia."
"I know that she does not know, Father."
"Yes, but hearing it must have an impact."
"I am shocked, mostly. But then I should have known better than to expect otherwise."
He stooped down and picked up the hangers, handing one to his daughter for each of her other dresses. "She'll realize that she is your role model though she showed qualities why should not be imitated… in time."
"I would not say role model, Father. That is rather harsh," Morticia countered. "But yes, I would like to be a witch because she is – was one."
"I hate to leave you like this, darling, but we have a long ride back home to enjoy. Well, the ride would be enjoyable, but I doubt your mother will be."
Morticia smiled again. "I will be fine, Father. Don't worry."
Mr. Frump stood up and kissed his daughter on the forehead. "I know you will be. Good bye, Morticia."
"Bye, Father."
After their parents have left, Morticia and Ophelia started unpacking the boxes that were not for their room in the downstairs receiving area. They were rather quiet, most probably due to their mother's ignorance about Morticia's dreams, but neither seemed to mind the silence. The Parkers left them to unpack, feeling quite uneasy with the scene they witnessed earlier, though Elizabeth assured that when the twins need their help, they are just a call away.
Picking up a framed photograph from the bottom of the box she was unpacking, Morticia stood up and placed the picture on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She was followed by Ophelia who also put framed photos on the mantelpiece. They studied the photos they placed – the first was a picture of the two of them, so many years ago, sitting in front of their house, an arm around each other's shoulder; the second was yet another photo of the two of them together, though this time, it was only a few months ago. They were seated on the steps of their porch looking contrast yet complimentary with each other. Contrast because they were wearing opposite colors, Morticia in black while Ophelia in white, but complimentary because they seemed as close as they were on the first picture; the last photo was an old family portrait, taken when they were six-year old, about to start school. Their parents looked nothing like today.
"It is hard to imagine that there was a time when Mother and Father were not fighting," Ophelia commented, eyeing the last picture.
"It is hard to imagine that there was a time when Mother was not disgusted with me," Morticia replied, looking at the same picture.
Ophelia sighed. "I thought that –"
"Let's just not talk about that, Ophelia, please?" Morticia requested, returning to the remaining unpacked boxes.
"It's just that… earlier, when Christian came, I thought… but then…" Ophelia tried to say but even without completing her sentences, Morticia understood.
"It does not matter," she said, unpacking a small old grandfather clock from one of the boxes. She went back to the fireplace and hung the clock on the fireplace wall above the pictures, using a hook placed there earlier by Christian.
"How are you feeling?" Ophelia asked, putting volumes of books on the other shelves of the cabinet that housed the old television.
"Just the same," Morticia answered. She helped her sister put other books on the remaining shelves. "More certain than before."
"Certain about what?"
"That Mother… I do not really want to talk about her. Things will not change even when we keep on talking about her."
"But –"
"Please, Ophelia?"
"Morticia… oh, alright," Ophelia conceded upon seeing her sister's face.
Before either of them could speak, a knock came from the back door. Morticia stood up to see who it was, though she was sure that it was either Elizabeth or Christian. True enough, when she opened the door, it was Christian waiting outside.
"Hello, Christian," she said, smiling slightly.
"Hello…" he said uncertainly.
"Oh, of course! I did not get the chance to introduce myself. I am Morticia Frump," she held out a hand which he shook, smiling in return. "My sister is Ophelia. How can I help you?"
"My mother and I were wondering if you would like to have something for supper. The fridge is empty, except for water, and I was told that you travelled for several hours so I guessed that you might be hungry."
"I do not eat dinner, but Ophelia does. Why don't you and Mrs. Parker come over here and eat here. You would just have to bring the food here. I'm sure my sister would like to hear more about you… I mean more about the university from you."
Christian's eyes brightened at what Morticia said. "I will tell my mother. She's grown fond of you, actually. Surely she would not mind coming over here. See you later, then."
"See you," Morticia replied. She watched him disappear behind the bushes before returning to Ophelia, who was almost finished unpacking. She picked up the empty boxes and piled them on one side, unable to decide where to put them. "Mrs. Parker and Christian are bring supper over."
"They are?!" Ophelia asked, her voice raised at least two octaves higher.
Despite herself, Morticia could not stop herself from chuckling. "Yes, and you better not speak to them with that high-pitched voice."
For the next couple of days, Morticia and Ophelia were toured around the university by Christian during the day and cooked meals by Elizabeth during breakfast and dinner. Wanting to give Ophelia and Christian some time together, Morticia decided to learn how to cook with the help of Elizabeth. She now somehow found the mother she never had from Mrs. Frump in Elizabeth. Not only she learned how to cook but she also shared to Morticia some potion concoctions she used to do before.
At first Morticia thought that Elizabeth was a witch but she revealed that she wanted to be a witch and after enrolling to a local witchcraft school, she found out that she did not have the patience needed to become a witch. Hence, she quitted the witchcraft school but continued creating potions. She told Morticia that one night, several months after she found out that she was pregnant with Christian from a man she had a fling with but dumped her after learning that she is pregnant, she met a man who preferred to be called Alonzo. This man, seeing Elizabeth broke and hungry, gave her the job of taking care of his house. He would not usually come to visit but would just send her pay and if needed for the house, extra money for renovation. He was so generous that it was seem who send Christian to school.
From what she knew, this Alonzo was a wealthy man with a small family, with just two sons. But apparently, his eldest son disappeared years ago. Brokenhearted because of his son's loss, Alonzo died, leaving the responsibility of paying Elizabeth and sending Christian to school to his wife. Elizabeth only saw Alonzo's wife once, when she told her that Alonzo died. However, she did not bother to give Elizabeth her name, as she introduced herself as 'Alonzo's wife'. That time, she came with her remaining son, though Elizabeth did not see him for he remained inside a heavily-tinted old car the whole time his mother talked to her.
For the first time in her life, Morticia finally found a place where she felt at home, a place where no one would huff at the sight of her, a place where everyone appreciated her despite her peculiar tastes (though this is quite moot as the Parkers shared her food preferences and are influencing Ophelia), and a place where she can really enjoy being who she was.
End of Chapter 3. I was truly planning on making Morticia and Gomez meet here already, but as I was writing, the argument thing between Mr. and Mrs. Frump came up so I decided to play with that idea. Though at the end of this chapter, I'm sure you found a link that will bring Morticia and Gomez together in the future. I promise, on Chapter 4, they will meet already. And on Chapter 4, Morticia will meet a friend.
I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, though it took me three weeks to get this done. Hopefully Chapter 4 will be available next week. Thank you for those who commented on this fanfiction. I would still be waiting for your responses and suggestions. :D