***As the last chapter was so short, here's another :) ***
January
Sully drummed his pen idly against the open text book. It was Monday morning and he was already bored. Beside him, Michaela was paying such close attention to the tedious subject material now being inflicted upon them that she hadn't even turned around to glare at him yet. Snorting at the expression of deep interest on her face, he flipped open his notebook and turned to the latest composition he had been working on. He had spent the better part of the Christmas vacation mulling over the chords and last night, he had finally put pen to paper. His inspiration had come from an unlikely source. When Michaela had delightedly announced that she would dancing in the ballet school's production of The Nutcracker and presented him with two tickets, he had flat out refused to go. As content as he usually was to go along with the vast majority of Michaela's hair brain ideas, he absolutely drew the line at tights and tutus. To his horror, however, his mother had graciously accepted the offer and Christmas Eve had found a very disgruntled Sully, formally attired with clean, brushed hair, being escorted to a seat in the middle of the packed out pavilion. Though he'd rather die than admit it to Michaela, the production hadn't actually been as dull as he had anticipated. True, he had been unable to suppress a snigger when the very young Sugar Plum Fairy had unfortunately slipped during her solo performance but the music had been flawless and he'd found his mind filled with the elaborate pieces for days afterwards.
A loud scuffle broke through his concentration and as the classroom door suddenly opened, twenty pairs of eyes turned towards the unexpected noise. Mrs White, the headmaster's middle aged PA, bustled importantly to the front of the class and oblivious to the keen interest of all the students, muttered a hurried explanation to the bewildered science teacher. His brow furrowed but before he could comment further, Mrs White had called out in a clear voice.
"Michaela Quinn, if you could come with me please."
Michaela turned in her seat to gape at Sully. She couldn't think of any possible reason why the head would want to see her and for several moments she remained frozen in her seat. Only when Mrs White repeated impatiently, "Now, Ms Quinn," did she slide out from behind the lab bench and walk slowly to the front. Murmuring a quick apology to no one in particular, Mrs White led Michaela quickly to the door and as soon as it closed shut behind them, she slipped an arm around her shoulders. Utterly bewildered, Michaela turned to glance back through the glass door. Sully's expression however, as he followed her progress down the hall, was as baffled as her own.
"Mrs Cooper," exclaimed Michaela in surprise as she recognised the sole occupant of the headmaster's office, "what are you doing here?"
"Hello Michaela," replied Charlotte, her habitually calm voice hitching slightly, "come and sit down, honey."
"What's going on?" asked Michaela suspiciously, taking a seat beside Charlotte, "is something wrong."
"It's about Joseph," began Charlotte, reaching out to take Michaela's hands in hers.
"Dad?" queried Michaela, instantly worried, "what happened? Is he ok?"
"There was an accident," continued Charlotte, tears now brightening her warm, brown eyes, "black ice. Your dad lost control of the car, ended up in a ditch off highway 28."
"But, but he's ok, right," stammered Michaela, "I mean, he's tough. He never even gets a cold."
"He's in the ICU right now," replied Charlotte, her attempt at keeping it together breaking down completely as she added, "but it's not looking good."
Michaela sat ram rod straight in her seat as the crowds swelled around her, heading out into the watery sunshine. In an almost dream like daze, she followed the track of the dust motes glittering in the shaft of coloured light that filtered through the stained glass windows and cast intricate patterns over the altar. Her whole body seemed have frozen up during the ceremony, her features assuming an increasingly carven quality with each touching eulogy, her thoughts skittering away from her pathetic attempts to reign them in. Even the starched fabric of the sombre black dress rubbing against her bare skin and the pinch of the new pumps barely caught her attention.
"Michaela," began a voice softly beside her, "it's time to go."
Blindly following the gentle pressure under her elbow, she allowed herself to be drawn from her seat towards the door. Her feet stumbled over the slabbed aisle and an arm immediately slipped itself around her waist, drawing her close.
"I can't do this," she whispered brokenly, pressing her head into the solid shoulder supporting her, "I don't know how to say goodbye."
"I don't either," he replied, his voice cracking with grief, "it just doesn't seem real."
"How can I even carry on without him?"
Turning her pleading, tear filled eyes upwards, Sully felt his resolve weaken. A lone tear tracked its way down his cheek and he exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting to the huddle of mourners gathering in the furthest corner of the small cemetery. Marjorie's fiery hair was clearly distinguishable even at this distance.
"We'll find a way together," he finally replied quietly, reaching down to knot their fingers together tightly, "I'm not going anywhere."
February
"I'm putting the Austen in with the Shakespeare. I know you'll say its mixing genres and there's no way Shakespeare would have put up with Austen's whining under any circumstances but I don't care. The bard is just gunna have to suck it up and deal with a female roommate, at least until you get to Boston.
"Michaela," continued Sully, when the silence following his disgruntled spiel remained unbroken, "did you hear what I said?"
"Michaela?" he repeated quietly, approaching the window.
She was curled up on the window seat, staring unseeingly out at the icy yard. Wolf, who had now grown so much that he spilled out of her lap onto the sill like a giant furry rug, gave a little yelp of acknowledgment before nudging his cold, wet nose against Michaela's arm.
"Hey!" exclaimed Michaela, turning back towards the room, "I already took a shower today, thanks."
Wolf yawned unapologetically and blithely ignoring both his owners, padded swiftly out of the room in search of lunch.
"You ok?" queried Sully, his brow furrowing in concern.
"Sure," replied Michaela in the resigned way she always did when someone asked her how she was doing. "I just wish I didn't have to go."
"I know," replied Sully sadly, "I wish you didn't either. I'm really gunna miss you."
They had tried everything to change Elizabeth's mind. Even Sully's mother, knowing how close the two kids were, had offered to let Michaela stay with them, at least until the school year was through. Elizabeth however, had already spent a good part of a month sorting out Joseph's various assets and could not be away from Boston any longer. She was going home and taking her daughter with her.
"Spring breaks not so far away," reasoned Sully, trying to raise her spirits, "I bet if I take on some extra shifts between now and then I could save enough money to come visit."
"Maybe," conceded Michaela miserably, though without any real conviction.
"Hey, I got you something," continued Sully, his tone lightening as he reached into his rucksack, "it's for your birthday."
"My birthday is still a week away," pointed out Michaela quietly, "and anyway I don't feel like celebrating this year."
"Go on," urged Sully, thrusting the wrapped package into her hands, "open it. Your dad helped me pick it out."
"My dad?" breathed Michaela, her eyes instantly lightening as she grabbed the slim parcel.
"That was some of my best work!" protested Sully, mock glaring at the sea of wrapping paper that now covered the floor. Michaela's attention however was focused on the thin black box she had just unearthed.
"Your dad said the best way to a woman's heart was to make her breakfast. Then do the washing up" continued Sully in a suddenly solemn tone.
"Yeah, right," choked out Michaela, her face breaking into the first smile she had worn in weeks.
"He said you'd say that," laughed Sully, "so he said I should get this as a back up."
"It's beautiful," murmured Michaela, fingering the intricate design, "I almost don't want to wear it."
"Hey, I mopped way too many floors for that bracelet to just be kept in a box" retorted Sully, before grinning at the expression on his best friends face.
"Just don't forget about me when you get to Boston and your big fancy school."
"No way," affirmed Michaela, shaking her head, "we'll always be best friends, Sully, no matter what."
"Ok, enough sappy talk," replied Sully, nudging Michaela's shoulder playfully, "now can you please come and help me pack up this insane library of yours? My back is killing me already."
"Sure" giggled Michaela, wandering over to the half empty book shelf.
"Wait a second," she began, pausing by a large box and turning back to glare at Sully, "did you say you put the Austen in with the Shakespeare? Are you nuts? Have you learnt nothing in the last two years? I'm going to have to start all over again!"
"I'm never getting out of here," moaned Sully, as books flew out of the box he had spent the last hour so carefully packing and crashed pell mell onto the floor.