Beckett: Swings

Sunday 16 December

The heavy fleecy blanket Castle had covered her with yesterday afternoon lay virtually unmoved. Somehow, she had managed to sleep through until the next morning without waking for dinner or to get changed. The bedroom had a strange, deserted feeling like several scenes in a movie had been inexplicably skipped. She heaved herself out of bed, her body still heavy with sleep but her head clearer than it had been in days. The living room, office and kitchen too were empty. No lights were on, and the silence felt as if a magic wand had been waved and the occupants whisked away. A couple of breakfast bowls were left uncleared on the kitchen island; a carton of milk stood open by the fridge.

Kate frowned. She glanced at her father's watch, still on her wrist from the day before, the skin around it red and puffy. 11.45am. Where could they all be? She called out: 'Martha? Erin?' When she received no reply, she hobbled to the coffee machine, an itch by her ankle making itself known. She smiled: he knew her so well. Beside the machine was a handwritten note and a clean coffee cup and spoon:

Angelika has a morning screening of the original Miracle on 34th Street – Alexis wanted to take us. Left you to sleep.

Beneath that in different, neater handwriting, it said:

There's fresh orange juice for you x

Castle said he was going to talk with Erin, that conversation must have gone well. Gratefully, she glugged the juice while the coffee brewed. As she scratched beneath the cast with a chopstick, she ran a self-diagnostic. She was feeling much better, stronger, not so dizzy. Castle and his daughter had been right to be concerned, but she honestly did feel better after that marathon sleep. Clearly, she hadn't been able to hide the fatigue and the dizziness, but he had been unaware of the nausea she had experienced since the accident. It had only been mild but today was the first morning without it. She could feel, finally, that she had turned the corner on the road to recovery, not even needing anything stronger than a Tylenol for the discomfort in her ankle.

An hour or so later after she had showered and dressed, as she was sitting refreshed at the table nibbling on a salad and reading a novel, the door burst open and four excited, chattering people tumbled in, unwrapping scarves and shaking off coats.

'Oh hey, you're up,' said Erin shyly, her tone friendly.

Castle kissed Kate on the top of her head and squeezed her shoulders. As he sat down beside her, stealing a slice of cucumber from her plate, he gave her a pointed look and tilted his head ever so slightly towards Erin.

'We've eaten so much popcorn and candyfloss, I couldn't eat a thing, I think I'll skip lunch,' proclaimed Alexis from the kitchen.

Beckett seized the moment. 'Erin, I could really use some fresh air. And a hot dog.' She pushed her fork half-heartedly through the salad. 'Would you come with me to the park across the street?'

'Um, sure. I didn't eat quite as much as Alexis, so yeah, a hot dog would be good.'

'Candyfloss and popcorn are Alexis's secret cinema vices,' Castle explained, deadpan. Alexis's cheeks flushed then she was swamped by her grandmother with a teasing and comforting kiss on the cheek.

'Ignore them, honey,' growled Martha as she glowered at Castle.

Erin watched the bantering with, if not quite a smile, then certainly without the scowl she had adopted the past week. It seemed now would be a good chance to clear the air properly between them.

xxx

Steam rose from the hotdog that Kate held carefully in her leather-gloved hand, avoiding the dripping onions, mustard and ketchup. It was cold enough to need a warm coat and scarves but not so cold that it would snow. They each sat on a swing, the tips of Erin's sneakers brushing the ground as she swung, or rather swayed, back and forth slightly; Kate's crutches lay beneath her swing.

As she had gone to the bedroom to collect her purse, Castle had rushed in after her and quickly filled her in on his conversation with Erin yesterday. It was so obvious once he said it, that Erin's anger had been because she blamed her for the accident, for having a dangerous job. She should have realised this might be a cause of contention, but she didn't know how she was going to handle it. Giving up being a cop wasn't on the table, how would Erin cope with that?

Recalling her conversation with Castle, she agreed that despite her nervousness of how Erin would respond to anything she said, they were a team, and she didn't have to get it right. She didn't like cowering; her comfort zone was to be assertive and it's what Erin needed from her. She swayed in time with Erin's rhythm. 'Rick told me why you've been angry,' she said softly but firmly, testing the waters.

Erin glanced down at her feet and wrinkled her nose.

Maybe she was embarrassed but Kate persisted; they couldn't keep shying away from hard conversations. 'I understand you feeling that way, but you can come and talk to me about it. What did Rick say to you?'

Erin finished chewing her current mouthful and swallowed dramatically. She brought the swing to a stop and took a deep breath. 'That it's okay to be worried but that being a cop is who you are, and we shouldn't stop you from doing that,' she said matter-of-factly shaking her hair and scrubbing ketchup from the corner of her mouth. Thank goodness for Castle, she wasn't sure how she was going to defend herself if Erin asked her to stop; he was right, being a cop was who she is, she couldn't apologise for it.

'And what do you think?' Kate hunched forwards to bring herself to Erin's height; she cocked her head, searching.

Erin paused to consider her answer. To Kate's relief, she appeared rational, level-headed and willing to talk, a world away from the heated and confusing emotions from the past week.

'Yeah, I get what he was saying, and I don't feel so mad, he explained how it really was just an accident,' she said calmly. Then she turned towards Kate and with a quiver in her voice, she said: 'But it's not just that, it's that you were being so…acting…so…so like nothing was really wrong with you, when you have been badly injured.'

Kate felt the unspoken words in the cold air between them: and you could have died.

Kate felt the sting of being berated and Alexis's words reverberated in her head. Erin loves her and this is what it looks like; the repeated desire to just grab Erin and hug her enveloped her again but it wasn't the right time, there was still too much distance not least that physically presented by the swings. Erin at least was facing her, engaging. Words would have to do the job, for now.

'You're not the only one who's mad at me for that, I will have to learn to do better.'

Erin nodded, seemingly satisfied with her reply.

Kate started to sway gently on the swing. 'I've been on my own for a long time, it's a new thing for me too being part of a family again.' And a new thing for me to be a parent. I have to be strong for you, and this, being injured, isn't being very strong, she thought.

Erin nodded sagely. It seemed as if she was waiting for more.

'It's not an excuse, but I was worried about how upset you would be, because of what happened to your parents. I guess I thought if I pretended things weren't so serious, it wouldn't be so bad for you.'

Erin stuffed several inches of hot dog into her mouth. Inwardly, Kate sighed. She couldn't stop now, if they were to talk about possible adoption, she needed Erin to hear what she had to say however upsetting she might find it.

'The thing is, Erin, I'm walking on eggshells around you. I know that you're not ready to talk about how you ended up here with me and we're trying to make everything as normal as possible. But everything, this situation, isn't normal. Can we talk about that a little bit?'

Erin nodded again, this time uncertainly and without looking at Kate.

Kate was going to have to address what Alexis had told them about Erin's fear of punishment, of being sent away. 'When I say I'm walking on eggshells, it's not just about trying not to upset you. It's that you're a child and you are going to sometimes need to be told off. You're a kid, you're learning, and you'll make mistakes, and I'm the grown up and my job is to guide and help you and that means having to be strict sometimes.'

Erin's shoulders lifted to her reddening ears.

Kate hurried on. 'But that's okay. I used to have shouting matches with my mom and dad, and I would slam the door and even sometimes leave the house in a temper. But I always knew I could come home and that everything would be okay.' Kate reached a hand across and touched Erin's elbow. 'And you can get mad at me. Like this week,' she gestured down to her cast, 'I can take it. If you had shouted and yelled at me because you were angry, that's fine. Sure, I won't like it, but this is your home. You're not going to be sent away for being angry, or for punching someone at school.' She wouldn't embarrass her by stating she knew the reason, Erin's cheeks were pink enough.

Erin's opposite hand lingered under Kate's. Just a few more centimetres.

'What I'm trying to say is, I feel like I'm stepping on eggshells around you because I'm afraid,' Kate whispered.

Erin dropped her hand and stared at her, shocked. 'You're afraid. Rick basically called you a superhero, you can't be scared.'

Beckett couldn't help smiling and shaking her head at Castle. Of course, he had made her sound like a superhero. She lowered her voice and leaned against the rope of the swing closest to Erin and looked her in the eye. 'I've met some of the worst humankind has to offer but what scares me more than any of that is that you won't want to stay here, stay with me.'

Erin opened her mouth to speak.

'I know I can't take away your grief or make it any less. I wish I could just take it all away from you. But the next best thing I can give you is my home, our home.'

'But I do, I do want to stay here. I thought you wouldn't want me to stay, that you would be…disappointed,' Erin gushed, grabbing the swing ropes with both hands and side stepping one foot closer to Kate.

'Disappointed? How could I ever be disappointed in you?' She thought of what Johanna would have made of Erin, how proud she would have been, how doting. When she thought of disappointment herself it was the fear of how her own mother might have been disappointed in her decision to have her baby adopted. But her father had told her that was impossible and she knew she was only projecting her own negative fears about herself onto her mother.

'I don't know. It's just, you had me adopted so I could have a good life and then I turn out to be someone who punches people. I thought you would be, well, disappointed.'

What could she possibly have done or said to give her that impression, she thought, stunned. Then she realised. It wasn't her; it was coming from Erin herself. This is what she feared, disappointing her birth mother, a burden she hadn't appreciated she was placing on her when she gave her away. Was this the destiny of the Beckett daughters, to fear disappointing their mothers?

As they gazed in unison at the toddlers, decked in puffy onesies like little rosy-cheeked Michelin men, sliding down into the open arms of proud and encouraging parents, the image from the photograph of Erin on a swing with her parents flashed before her.

'Erin, I have a confession. I went to visit a storage locker. It had everything from your home in it.'

Erin baulked in surprise.

'And I'm sorry, I opened some of the boxes, I couldn't help myself. But you know what I learned? You had a great childhood. You had wonderful parents, and I hope that I can give you something like the kind of life they gave you.'

Erin's lips pursed into a thin line as she tightened her grip on the swing.

'It wasn't your responsibility to have a 'good' childhood, or that because I had you adopted you had to turn out a certain way. You don't have to…' she searched for the right word, 'impress me.' It was on the tip of her tongue to say 'and I love you just the way you are' but something akin to shyness stopped her. She hadn't told her she loved her yet and she didn't think she could say the words without breaking down and she was determined to show Erin that she was in control.

Castle's words from yesterday came back to her – were they really both trying to be the perfect mother and daughter, were they both just trying to impress each other? Was this the barrier they needed to break down?

She stretched herself back to her full height and placed her hands in her lap. 'Erin, I'm your Mom. I don't ever want anyone to take you away. Even though I'm your birth mother, because you were adopted, I don't have any legal rights so I would like to change that.'

Erin's mouth dropped open. 'You're asking to adopt me?'

'I want this to be forever. There are no conditions.'

Without hesitating, Erin nodded, the gesture violent; gratitude and relief bulged from her eyes.

A smile broke out across Kate's face followed by an involuntary small laugh. Erin held her gaze tearily, reflecting her smile. Was this the moment that she could reach out and take her in her arms?

Before she could make a move, Erin said: 'What about Rick, you and him?'

Kate frowned, bewildered. 'What do you mean?'

'I just mean, well, Alexis said that things hadn't always been so…good between you. She was kinda mean about you. Is everything…'

Beckett realised with a rush of air that Erin was asking about the solidity of her relationship with Castle.

'Me and Rick, you really don't have to worry about us. It's still new our relationship but we've been working our way to this point for four years. Alexis is understandably very protective of her father, but Rick and I are one hundred percent committed to each other.'

'Like, marriage and children committed?' she pressed. Were the wide eyes optimistic or nervous? Was she worried for Kate, or for herself?

'I guess one day, but we haven't talked about it yet. But Erin, there's something else I need to tell you. I know it's sudden, but Rick wants to adopt you too.'

Erin's eyebrows almost touched her hairline. 'Really? Woah…that's…Why?' The surprise seemed to catch her so unawares that she was lost for words.

Kate laughed again. Could Erin really not see what an impact she had had on them both? 'Before you showed up, Rick had no idea that you existed – I had to keep you in this secret little space inside me so that I couldn't think about you too much, it would be too painful - and without question he jumped right in with me. He wants to adopt you too, not for me, but because he wants to be your father, because he's lived with you for two months, and he wants that to be permanent.'

Erin's face could only be described as stunned.

'But I'm telling you this because if you don't want him to, you can tell me. He still cares, he will still be whatever you need him to be; he won't walk away because of a piece of paper. He doesn't want you to feel pressured to say something because you feel you have to. We know it's a big decision and you can think about it. And if the answer is no, you don't have to explain or apologise, and nothing will change.'

'I…I…I don't know what to say. Can I think about it?'

'Of course, there's no rush. And Erin, we're not trying to replace your parents, you know that right? This is about us being a family now and in the future.'

The mother and daughter swung in tandem silently, watching the playing children, their dissolving visible breath quickly replaced by the next. Erin puffed a large cloud into the air and Kate copied her; they shared a grin. From the corner of her eyes Kate watched her daughter. It still astonished her that she had been homeless for six weeks. There were times over the last two months when she had seemed so young and helpless and innocent, and then there was now where she seemed so much older and wiser, a long way from the toddlers playing nearby. The experience of loss and grief aged her prematurely.

When she had visited the storage lockup Erin's childhood had been presented to her in all its mundane glory. Erin's childhood, as she had told her, had been wonderful and for that she would always be grateful. But as she watched the toddlers being helicoptered by their parents, she felt the grief she had been denying well up. Erin's past was hers and hers alone, Kate had had no part in it and never would. Her childhood was a closed chapter which she could never read, never relive. When she had made her choice to have her adopted, she knew that was what she was giving up, but it had been impossible to know that one day she would be confronted with it and that the regret would hurt like this.

But the grief and the regret were her crosses to bare. They weren't Erin's and they weren't something she needed to share with her. Kate had missed out on her daughter's childhood, but Erin hadn't missed out on having a mother. To disclose her grief would be to undermine the value of the life that Erin had lived, the loving parents she had had. All that mattered now was that Kate was her mom and they were embarking on the next chapter together.

Erin hopped off the swing and kneeled to fetch Kate's crutches. She held them out with one hand and offered her the other. With the opposite hand, so that it looked like they were shaking hands, Kate accepted, and Erin gently pulled her to standing. It was the first time since they had first met that they had touched each other like this albeit through gloves. Then Erin's grip had been firm but formal. Now, it was different. Firm but open, tender, caring and forgiving all at once.

'Time to get you home, Kate. Rick said you shouldn't over do it.'

'Just who is the mom here anyway?' she grinned.