 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
|
Primary Character(s): The Farazell women, primarily Darya & Brigid
Special Notes: The lighthouse visited is the Coquille River Lighthouse in Bandon, OR. The author visited this lighthouse in October, before writing this story, hence it got added into this particular tale.
Disclaimers: See Index page for full disclaimer info
++ Darya ++
"G'morning, Mommy!" Emily and Fawn's little voices call out to me as I stumble sleepily into the kitchen I'd grown up in. Momma turns to glance at me from where she's making crepes, if my nose isn't deceiving me, and before I realize it, Davie's grabbed Trisha from my arms to coo over my infant daughter. I move further into the room, pressing warm kisses to both little girls' foreheads before doing the same to my sister and mother, the latter confirming what my nose has been smelling since I stepped out of the shower.
"Mmm, kahli mehra (good morning), girls," I murmur, gratefully accepting the coffee my mother's waving in front of my face. Inhaling the heady scent, I take a small sip and sigh happily. "Thank you, Momma. I only ever get this now when Art's brother Cory visits. No one else makes good Greek coffee like you do."
"You can thank your father for that," she replies, turning back to the stove. "He swears it keeps him young and vital."
Davie chuckles and I can't help but giggle disgustedly like a little girl at the thought of my father's virility. "Momma!" Trisha's sudden squawk of hunger stops me from saying anything further, and I set aside my coffee to settle at the table to feed my daughter.
I can feel Momma's gaze on me, and look up to see the faintest glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I wish your grandmother could see this. Three generations of proud MacKenzie women."
"Yaya, we are Farazells," Emily says in a confused tone, head cocking to one side in a move reminiscent of her other favorite Sentinel, Dace.
"Well, yes, that's true, sweetie, but before I married your papoos, my last name was different. And my mother's family is from a very proud bunch of Scotsmen named MacKenzie. She always said that she wanted to see the MacKenzie heritage continued. And other than your little brother Jesse, all of us women have had girls. My mother had me, I had Davie and your mom, and your mom had you and Trisha. And if we're lucky, one day you or Trisha will continue that tradition."
"Mommy? Did you know your gramma?" Fawn asks softly, and I can see in her eyes that she's curious about her own grandparents. Janet's gonna kill me for this.
"I knew my yaya, but not my gramma Maeve, Fawn. Gramma Maeve died before I was born. Even before Aunt Davie was born."
"Oh, that is so sad, Mommy."
I smile and reach over to run my fingers through her glossy curls. "It's okay, honey. I know that she did what she needed to and moved on to the next step in her soul's journey. Momma says that she can see hints of Gramma Maeve in Davie and me."
Before I can say anything more, Momma sets a plate in front of me. "And if you girls don't hurry up and eat your breakfast, we'll be heading out too late to visit anything before it gets dark," she says, smiling almost sadly in reaction to my words. "And that includes you two older Farazell girls."
"Yes, Momma," Davie and I reply, giggling like little girls while heartily digging into our crepes.
When Trisha is finished feeding, I shift her up to burp her, but feel her being pulled from my hands. "Eat, Dare," Momma says with a smile. "I can burp my granddaughter."
I don't need to be told twice, and begin to practically inhale my breakfast. I've missed Momma's cooking over the years, and something about this trip has energized me in ways I can't quite describe yet. When the girls finish their breakfast, I try to hurry myself to get them dressed, but Davie waves me off and heads upstairs after them. Relieved, I slow down a bit in my eating and glance up to see Momma watching me intently again.
"You haven't changed a bit, young lady," she teases lightly. "Always wanting to inhale your breakfast so you could go out and explore the world. Your father and I had the hardest time making you slow down and actually taste your food some mornings."
I flush hotly at the reminder of my childhood and force myself to set my fork down. "And I give Emily a hard time about the same thing." I narrow my eyes and study my mother's face for just a moment. "You gave me the parents' curse, didn't you, Momma?"
Her reaction is certainly not what I would expect to that question. For just a fraction of a moment, her eyes mist over as if she'll start crying, but just as I'm about to reach over to touch her arm and apologize, she tosses her head back and starts to laugh almost hysterically. Her laughter is infectious, and despite my curiosity, I find myself giggling with her. Trisha's loud burp stops our laughter for just a few, startled seconds before resuming again. It's only when Davie and the girls come back down that we can finally stop and pant for breath, but easily start up again when Davie shoots us a curious, exasperated look.
"What's so funny, Mommy?" Emily asks as Davie plucks Trisha from Momma's arms to dress her as well.
"Ask your yaya, baby," I reply and force myself upstairs to get ready. The giggles start anew as I hear Emily's curious voice questioning her grandmother, secretly glad Momma's been left to answer the questions of her more than curious granddaughter.
+ + +
Nearly seven hours later, only six hours into the trip, and I'm just about ready to throw myself in front of the van. Trisha's been sleeping peacefully, but Fawn is not exactly happy to be cooped up for so long in a car. She's cried and thrown at least two major temper tantrums, brought on by bouts of boredom and carsickness. Emily has done her best to soothe Fawn, but even reading and coloring are difficult for the little girl. In the end, what has worked the best is Emily singing and telling Fawn stories to distract her. Of course, this only works when Emily and Fawn are either both awake or Fawn is asleep. But still, I'm going to have to hurt Janet for not reminding me about this little issue of Fawn's.
"Girls," Momma says suddenly. "Do you know what's coming up in a little bit? This is one of your mommy's favorite lighthouses. And maybe if we’re lucky, we'll see some harbor seals hunting out in the water." I perk up at her words, suddenly realizing where we are, and start to feel as antsy to get out of the van as Fawn. "Darya, when was the last time you were here?"
I blink and consider the question. "Definitely before Emily was born. And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was before I met Em. I probably haven't been here in nearly twenty years now."
"That is forever, Mommy!" Emily exclaims.
"Yes, it is, baby," I reply slowly, remembering the last trip I'd made to this very place. "I was a little bit older than Cassie is now when I was last here. In fact, Janet, Uncle X, and Kim were here with me, too." I can feel Momma's eyes on me; can sense the melancholy settling over her as she remembers that trip, too. I reach forward to rub her upper arm in absolution. "Water under the bridge, Momma," I murmur thickly. "If we dwell on the bad things, nothing good can come of it. Isn't that what you told me Gramma Maeve always said?"
With a slow nod, Momma smiles at me before pulling into the parking spot. I turn around to start getting the girls out of their car seats as Momma shuts off the van's engine, but I see that Emily's already unlocking hers and reaching for Fawn's. Satisfied they'll at least wait until I get the sleeping Trisha from her car seat, I pull the blanket around my daughter's body and step out of the van. The girls tumble out after me, but I'm caught up in the memories crashing over me at the sight of this lighthouse, this stretch of beach. It was always one of my favorites as a child. I would run along the beach, chasing the gulls and sandpipers in and out of the rippling waves washing up on the shore. A sudden gust of wind slips under my coat, pulling me from my memories.
"Emily Jane, you stay away from that water!" I call out as I watch her running closer to the dunes. "You and Fawn are not old enough to go down there alone." The girls do stop at my warning and come back toward us. "Come on, we'll go into the lighthouse first, then we can go look for bird tracks on the beach, okay?"
Davie stretches out her hands for both girls and herds them into the lighthouse. I follow them up the steps, vaguely aware of my mother behind me. Momma pulls me aside just outside the door and presses my back against the wall. "Darya, let it go," she says softly, insistently. "You are not a teenager, and your father is not going to disown you once we get back to Seattle. You're on this trip because you wanted to introduce your daughters to one of your most favorite childhood places. You, Davie, and I used to do this trip every winter when you were both little girls: a girls only weekend. And that's what we're doing for your daughters."
I nod slowly and take a deep breath, letting it out painfully slowly. Several more follow as I work to ground myself in the present, not the past. Papa and I still have some mending to do, but Momma's right. This isn't about the past; this is about the present, and the future. It's about continuing a family tradition with Emily, Fawn, and Trisha. It's about reconnecting with my mother and my sister, the way we used to be. It's about… It's about me growing up and finally letting go of that little girl trying so desperately to please her father and feeling like she'd utterly failed.
"You're right," I finally say, my voice cracking only slightly on the words the first time. She strokes my cheek and smiles that smile that always made me feel so damned safe growing up, the one that I've felt on my own face when comforting the children, the one that I've seen Emily use to calm Fawn and Cubby from any bad dreams they've had. And I suddenly realize that I was trying so hard to please my father, that I often overlooked the person who really was supporting me. "I'm sorry, Momma. I was just as bad at ignoring you as Papa seemed to."
"Water under the bridge, my little apple," she whispers and leans in to share a gentle Eskimo kiss. "You're stronger than you think, but you've just got to remember that you don't need your father's approval, or mine, for that matter. Only your own, your wife's, and your children's. And yours is the most important. Never forget that."
I nod and swallow thickly. "Yes, Momma," I barely push the words past the lump in my throat. "You haven't called me your little apple in--"
"A long time, I know," she finishes the sentence for me. "You've never stopped being my daughter, and I've never stopped loving and supporting you, Darya, even if it seemed exactly the opposite. You will always be my little apple princess, nothing can ever change that. Just like Emily will always be your monkey, and Trisha and Jesse will be…whatever they will be to you. No matter how old you are, or how many grandchildren you give me, I will always look at you and still see that tiny little bundle in my arms the day you were born, the day we both nearly died. Nothing can ever change that bond you and I share, even if neither of us ever taps into it."
I know she's right. And suddenly, I realize where my daughter got her gifts. I've been looking at the wrong side of the family tree. Yes, I believe there is much more to explore in that bond I share with both my mother and my daughter. And with that bolstering thought, I grin and grab my mother's hand as we head into the lighthouse to join the rest of the women of the MacKenzie line.
