I faced a bittersweet irony each day of my new life. Jacob had gotten rich through his brother after I had turned him down for lack of wealth. It seemed like the only thing he had been lacking. I might have been able to ignore that if it weren't for my mother, but that couldn't stay out of my mind with Sarah Kolster jamming it in there. Well, Ingrid Kolster nearly hadn't cared, so why would Ingrid Mellark?
And how could anything be better than what I see in front of me right now? I had brought a crying Ceres to her father and our baby immediately stopped. Phillip decided to set an example by going to sleep too. He had brought up his left hand as a sort of pillow and his daughter found the elbow an excellent cradle while his right arm kept the baby from rolling around. The upper arm bore the usual scars from the ovens, but the hand was certainly soft enough for our little girl. Phillip's shirt was off – I told him it would keep the cloth away from his recent injuries, and that was true enough. However, I very much liked the view, and Ceres was the only thing I liked looking at more. Has it already been nearly four months since I had her?
In another four months, Daniel would be paraded throughout the country. He didn't let on how he was feeling about that, but judging by his other reactions to the Capitol, I was guessing anticipation instead of dread.
I often spent time at the Everdeen house in Victors Village. Much of that was sitting down chatting with Angela and Jackie as our babies moved around the floor. They weren't old enough to crawl yet, but they were sliding around the floor on their bellies. They all knew whose mommy was whose, another adorable part of this all.
The floor was smooth polished hardwood, instead of lumpy dirt. The Everdeens seemed to know that they couldn't dwell on that or a million other things, else they'd lose their minds.
Daniel seemed to overly enjoy the attention he received as victor, despite Jacob's attempts to try and talk some sense into him. I overheard some of those conversations.
"Dan, you're nothing but a piece of meat to them, and you're letting yourself be eaten up with a smile," Jacob angrily pointed out.
"Snow thinks he's torturing me; there are a lot of unspoken threats. But since I genuinely like it, he's not harming me like he thinks he is, so I win," Daniel countered.
"Didn't think of it like that," Jacob admitted.
"For once the odds are in my, the Everdeens', District Twelve's, favor. I shan't let pessimism over the usual state of affairs spoil that. Though rest assured, dear brother, I shall not go blind to the dark sides of the Capitol."
Jacob didn't retreat into his beloved woods so much anymore. He couldn't bring himself to risk it now that he didn't have to. Who knew if the current Head Peacekeeper would turn strict or be replaced with someone who would? Daniel could now buy more and better meat in town than Jacob could scrape up in the woods.
"Ingrid, I'm not sure if you'd be amazed by Capitol medical equipment or angry we don't have it here," Daniel told me once after one of his travels.
"Likely both," I admitted. Certain medicinal herbs were amongst the things Jacob gleaned from the woods still, since they couldn't be bought or substituted for with his brother's money. The Capitol allowed victors to import some Capitolite specialty goods, but nothing so important as medicine. I was stuck distilling medicine from molds, a technique centuries old, wondering what modern anti-germ agents Capitol doctors had access too.
"Not that I could buy you much anyway," Daniel admitted glumly.
"You already do so much for your family, your friends, and the other people of this district," I told him. "I wonder where Haymitch's money goes, even at the rate at which he drinks."
He met my cheerfulness with more. "He isn't drinking so much lately. Maybe because finally not losing a tribute gave him one less reason to drink."
"I don't rightly know what he does with his money either; he doesn't let on," Daniel said to give a more-direct answer to my indirect question.
"Their birth control easily outmatches your herbs too," he continued. "All my female admirers, as it were, for I hesitate to call them 'ladies', are injected once a month with some stuff that virtually always works." That sounded easier to use and a more effective substance even with ideal usage; the problems that were the opposite thereof often befell my customers. Even the decrease in fertility was benefit enough to my poor clientele; it was a bittersweet irony that those more able to afford a surprise were less likely to have one.
Daniel drew me back out of my thoughts. "Seems Jacob has Mom and Dad covered on grandchildren." They could have been yours, he knew better than to say. "And Adam soon." If not already. Angela and Adam had success with my herbs so far, yet Bridget being like a granddaughter to Sarah and Andrew had followed from Bridget being like a daughter to Adam. Angela was one of those young parents with reapings of their own left. Adam would see to the not-yet-officially-adopted Bridget, that much was certain, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing Angela, just seven years after Maysilee. Fergus was technically in the same situation, but he'd be a missing person who few people would miss much at all. I hated to think like that, but there was more than a grain of truth to it.
For once, the District Twelve stop on the Victory Tour was at the end, not the beginning, and the feast was not an anomaly for the district's ragged population. I suppose it had been that way seven years ago as well, but I wouldn't have noticed. Maysilee being one of the victims instead of the guest of honor still stung today and it sure as hell had stung six months after. So I understood the profound detachment of Apple Smith's friends and family.
Unsurprisingly, Ceres' first word was 'da-da', and she was to become a big sister. "Phillip, you're the baker, but I just started your favorite recipe." For once, I was sick for a good reason on August 1st.
"What's that?" he wondered.
He had forgotten his little joke from last fall, but I had remembered. "Egg, plus sausage drippings, at 100 degrees for nine months," I told him.
He beamed at the thought of becoming a father again, and instead of the embraces that had caused that to happen, he knelt down to rub my belly.
Then the curt shouts of Peacekeepers directed us to the town square. The sad look of the two Seam children chosen indicated that the odds wouldn't be in the same district's favor two years in a row. Heck, that rarely ever happened even for the Career districts – Lyme and Brutus of Two in the 42nd and 43rd Games were the only ones to ever pull it off.
That meant the odds were in Angela Cartwright's favor, soon to become Angela Everdeen. Phillip made a batch of his special toasting loaves, two swirls becoming one for two people becoming one. The first would be a gift for Angela and Adam; the rest sold quickly. Jacqueline and I were the ones to sign off for the new Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen. They went into another room of the Justice Building and Adam came out waving the adoption certificate for his new stepdaughter.
I had stayed in the main hall with the woman who had been Mrs. Hawthorne for exactly three years now. "Can't believe our babies are more than one year old now," she said. She had Gale in her arms. He had been a big boy when he was born, and looked even more so now. It had been fortuitous that Parcel Day came in just as the boy was being weaned.
"Me either," I agreed.
"And Julius' for that matter. I bet Cato's first word was 'sword' instead of 'mama' or 'dada'," she joked.
"It starts early in those districts, but I don't think that early," I said flatly.
The arena was a frozen tundra instead of last year's desert. Tributes traversed the ice field with special boots. They were armed with curved sticks. Some tributes used those as clubs; some used them as slings to launch hard rubber discs. That or brutal fistfights killed those that didn't freeze to death.
The eventual victor was the District Four female Gail Sandbar. The next time Hazelle came to drop off clean laundry, I said "Does that name still seem like such a good idea? I bet you'll start calling him Thomas II after all." That was a relatively sweet irony.