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rainbowfic2024-08-24 11:40 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2024-08-24 11:40 pm
Ecru 3: ready now
Author: Kat
Title: ready now
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Ecru 3 (discuss)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Ready Now, Dodie Clark), brush (jeremiad), beading wire (parent and child)
Word Count: 805
Rating: PG
Summary: Hugh tells Joanna about his lost daughter.
Warning: mentions and aftermath of a child abduction.
Notes: Immediately follows how bright you glow, which is a VERY old story but I'm still pleased with it.
Joanna brought him inside after who knew how long, sat him at her dinner table and made him a cup of tea. She favored rose tea, light and sweet, but the cup she set in front of him was lavender, calming. Good; he needed it.
The tea was still too hot to drink. Hugh pulled the cup towards himself and wrapped his hands around it. His fingers, numb from the cold, began to prickle and warm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her voice very soft.
He nearly said no, but at the last minute changed his mind. “Her name is Olivia,” he said. “Olivia Emily. She’ll be seventeen in June.”
Joanna sat down across from him, her own cup untouched on its saucer in front of her. “Will be?”
Hugh glanced up at the question. “She’s not dead. I mean, I don’t think she’s dead, she-- I can’t think she’s dead. I won’t think she’s dead.” Yvonne wasn’t like that. A monster, but not like that.
“You said you lost her,” Joanna said.
“I did.” He shrugged, let go of his cup and began to trace patterns in the table’s wood. “I came home one day and she was gone. I kept hoping… for weeks I hoped the next knock on the door would be her, but it never was. She turned thirteen a week after.”
“I’m so sorry.”
How many times had he heard that? A hundred, a thousand? Every concievable way of saying “I’m sorry.” Perfunctory, shocked, disbelieving, horrified, but this, this quiet sympathy, this was the easiest to take.
“I’ve looked for her,” he said, suddenly anxious that she understand that. “I have, everywhere I could, I’ve hired private detectives, nothing. Nothing yet,” because he wasn’t finished, he never would be, not until his daughter was back safe in his arms.
She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand, feather-light. “I know. The police couldn’t find her?”
Hugh swallowed back an old bitterness. “The police couldn’t do much. It was- it was her mother who took her, you see.” My wife, he could have said, because they weren’t divorced yet- though they would be, as soon as he found her- but he didn’t want to say that to Joanna. Nor did he want to examine why not.
“Oh,” Joanna breathed, and there was the horror he had been expecting. He did not expect her next question. “But that must mean she’s safe?”
“God, I hope so,” he said. It was a prayer, it always was. “Alive. Like I said.” Safe was a different prospect altogether, especially where Yvonne was concerned.
Joanna touched his hand again, and he realized he had clenched it into a fist.
“She’s alive,” she said, with a certainty no one else had ever used. “She’s alive, and you’ll find her, and she’ll come home.”
Hugh meant to accept that and turn the conversation, or go home. He’d had enough hurt for today. But something about Joanna drew out things he hadn’t ever meant to say to anyone.
“What if she doesn’t want to?”
His throat clogged around the words, his secret fear out in the daylight now. Who knew what Yvonne had said to Olivia, all those years she’d had his daughter? Who knew what she believed? They’d fought, the last time they spoke.
Joanna was very quiet for what felt like an hour, then said, slowly, “I can’t answer that. I don’t know your daughter or her mother. But you do. Was she close to her mother?”
“No,” he said, without thinking. Yvonne had never much cared to be bothered with a child.
“Then… I think maybe, she might not want to come home to you for good, because you said it yourself, she’s growing up. She’ll be an adult soon. But I can’t imagine…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine she won’t want to know you again. Not if she’s anything like you.”
She was. She was like him, his own precious girl, with his brown curly hair and his big smile and the same little crinkles at the corners of their eyes. More than that, she laughed like him and talked like him and even cocked her head in the same way when she was intent on a new piece of music. But she was all her own, too, her own joy instead of his melancholy disposition, her love of music and dance, her arms-flung-wide approach to life. He missed her so much.
“Of course you do,” Joanna said, and he realized he’d said most of that out loud. “But it isn’t over yet. I don’t think you’ve lost her for good. I don’t… I don’t think you can, while you love her so.”
Hugh put his hand up to his eyes and wept.
Title: ready now
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Ecru 3 (discuss)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Ready Now, Dodie Clark), brush (jeremiad), beading wire (parent and child)
Word Count: 805
Rating: PG
Summary: Hugh tells Joanna about his lost daughter.
Warning: mentions and aftermath of a child abduction.
Notes: Immediately follows how bright you glow, which is a VERY old story but I'm still pleased with it.
Joanna brought him inside after who knew how long, sat him at her dinner table and made him a cup of tea. She favored rose tea, light and sweet, but the cup she set in front of him was lavender, calming. Good; he needed it.
The tea was still too hot to drink. Hugh pulled the cup towards himself and wrapped his hands around it. His fingers, numb from the cold, began to prickle and warm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her voice very soft.
He nearly said no, but at the last minute changed his mind. “Her name is Olivia,” he said. “Olivia Emily. She’ll be seventeen in June.”
Joanna sat down across from him, her own cup untouched on its saucer in front of her. “Will be?”
Hugh glanced up at the question. “She’s not dead. I mean, I don’t think she’s dead, she-- I can’t think she’s dead. I won’t think she’s dead.” Yvonne wasn’t like that. A monster, but not like that.
“You said you lost her,” Joanna said.
“I did.” He shrugged, let go of his cup and began to trace patterns in the table’s wood. “I came home one day and she was gone. I kept hoping… for weeks I hoped the next knock on the door would be her, but it never was. She turned thirteen a week after.”
“I’m so sorry.”
How many times had he heard that? A hundred, a thousand? Every concievable way of saying “I’m sorry.” Perfunctory, shocked, disbelieving, horrified, but this, this quiet sympathy, this was the easiest to take.
“I’ve looked for her,” he said, suddenly anxious that she understand that. “I have, everywhere I could, I’ve hired private detectives, nothing. Nothing yet,” because he wasn’t finished, he never would be, not until his daughter was back safe in his arms.
She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand, feather-light. “I know. The police couldn’t find her?”
Hugh swallowed back an old bitterness. “The police couldn’t do much. It was- it was her mother who took her, you see.” My wife, he could have said, because they weren’t divorced yet- though they would be, as soon as he found her- but he didn’t want to say that to Joanna. Nor did he want to examine why not.
“Oh,” Joanna breathed, and there was the horror he had been expecting. He did not expect her next question. “But that must mean she’s safe?”
“God, I hope so,” he said. It was a prayer, it always was. “Alive. Like I said.” Safe was a different prospect altogether, especially where Yvonne was concerned.
Joanna touched his hand again, and he realized he had clenched it into a fist.
“She’s alive,” she said, with a certainty no one else had ever used. “She’s alive, and you’ll find her, and she’ll come home.”
Hugh meant to accept that and turn the conversation, or go home. He’d had enough hurt for today. But something about Joanna drew out things he hadn’t ever meant to say to anyone.
“What if she doesn’t want to?”
His throat clogged around the words, his secret fear out in the daylight now. Who knew what Yvonne had said to Olivia, all those years she’d had his daughter? Who knew what she believed? They’d fought, the last time they spoke.
Joanna was very quiet for what felt like an hour, then said, slowly, “I can’t answer that. I don’t know your daughter or her mother. But you do. Was she close to her mother?”
“No,” he said, without thinking. Yvonne had never much cared to be bothered with a child.
“Then… I think maybe, she might not want to come home to you for good, because you said it yourself, she’s growing up. She’ll be an adult soon. But I can’t imagine…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine she won’t want to know you again. Not if she’s anything like you.”
She was. She was like him, his own precious girl, with his brown curly hair and his big smile and the same little crinkles at the corners of their eyes. More than that, she laughed like him and talked like him and even cocked her head in the same way when she was intent on a new piece of music. But she was all her own, too, her own joy instead of his melancholy disposition, her love of music and dance, her arms-flung-wide approach to life. He missed her so much.
“Of course you do,” Joanna said, and he realized he’d said most of that out loud. “But it isn’t over yet. I don’t think you’ve lost her for good. I don’t… I don’t think you can, while you love her so.”
Hugh put his hand up to his eyes and wept.
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Thank you!
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no subject
1) Education is the key to unlock the golden door of freedom. - George Washington Carver
2) https://64.media.tumblr.com/fe7c9de0c510774db4f6f10c5dc29417/8e06fff09ab45b20-b1/s540x810/138d52367b00d70bcec7025dcc6ad1ae76e1c19e.jpg
And for Day 7:
1) "Maybe one day, you'll understand why/Everything you touch surely dies" - Let Her Go, Passenger
2) https://49.media.tumblr.com/e8101d5463df2ddd1c8f3186dfd9aefd/tumblr_o0g0tzaDzx1rf5bj0o9_250.gif
3) scoff