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This is a sequel to Family TiesGames ericsson k300i maestro
Family Reunion
by Rebeckah
Theresa inhaled deeply, absorbing the scents of the forest surrounding her. These were the scents of home; rich earth, green leaves, and dew and just a hint of evergreen. She’d only returned this morning, but she couldn’t wait to immerse herself in the midst of the tall, stately trees of her childhood. To soothe her wounded spirit by walking along the beaten path that wound between tall trees blocking the gentle sunlight with their fresh green leaves. It felt like a Cathedral in this place; quiet, peaceful, and holy. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes as she soaked in the serenity and breathed in the sensation of life all around her.
Muscles in her back and shoulders released fractionally. Muscles that she hadn’t even known were tense. She wondered now why she’d waited so long to return home, why she’d let her fear and heartache keep her away from the familiar places----and people, of home.
“So, my little Owl has flown home.” A voice out of her childhood sounded behind her.
Just a few months earlier Theresa would have whirled to face the speaker behind her, first from fear of capture and then an instant later from the joy of reuniting with her dear friend and mentor from the reservation.
“Poppa Bear!” She turned cautiously, but with a warm smile, concentrating on maintaining her balance with her center of gravity so greatly skewed from her protruding belly.
She turned to see the same tall, broad-shouldered man who had seemed so strong and safe when she was a little girl. He really didn’t look like a bear, but he had to her childish eyes so many years ago, and he’d been happy to accept the nickname. His glossy black hair had more than a few strands of white in it now, and his stomach had thickened slightly with age, but he was still the solid rock she had leaned on through her confusing childhood, tempestuous adolescence, and the painful years while her mother weakened from her disease.
More tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and she didn’t know if they were tears of joy at the sight of the man who was a father to her in every way but blood, or tears of grief at the shock and disappointment that flashed through his eyes when he saw her for the first time.
“Momma has been worried about you, Owl. You haven’t called in months. And just what you think she’s going to think of this?” Mark Winterwolf chided her gently, gesturing towards her abdomen.
Theresa knew he didn’t refer to her mother, who had passed away nearly six years ago, but to his wife, Jennifer. Jennifer and Mark had befriended her as a young girl, bereft of both twin brother and father, and left in a strange place with an apathetic mother. They’d filled in the holes left by her mother’s emotional abandonment and adopted the scared and grieving girl into their large brood with the careless generosity that characterized their lives.
“I’m sorry, Poppa.” She told him sincerely, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. “So much has happened, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t tell you most of it over the phone.”
To her dismay the tears stopped pricking at the backs of her eyes and filled them instead. Mark saw them and swept her into a comforting hug that eased some of the ache left in her spirit after her dehumanizing experiences at the Centre.
“It’s okay, little one.” He soothed her, patting her back reassuringly. “Momma won’t really be mad.”
“I know.” She admitted, tears wetting his shoulder. “I missed you so very much, Poppa!”
Mark wondered what had happened to the stubbornly self-reliant young lady who’d left the reservation the same month her mother had died. Her letters and phone calls to them over the years had indicated her growing maturity, but she had retained her sense of self-confidence and fierce independence. Not even the overactive hormones of pregnancy could explain the way she clung to him now, like he was her only safety. Someone had hurt her badly, he realized, and his anger rose at the thought. He’d always had a soft spot for Theresa, with her pale blond curls and solemn blue eyes.
She forced herself to release the fierce grip she had on him and stepped back, trying to control the flow of tears. It seemed, though, that her hold on her pain, anger, and fear had been completely shattered. Tears continued to pour from her eyes even as she fought to stop them.
“I’ve been told pregnancy makes women emotional.” She sniffed half-heartedly, trying to ease the concern growing in his eyes. Mark gave her the same piercing look he’d given her as a child when he caught her lying, and urged her down the path.
“That is true, little Owl.” He told her gently. “But the emotions themselves are determined by the woman’s state of mind. Come, Momma is waiting.”
“I should really start unpacking.” She protested feebly, knowing that if Jennifer were to see her she would be hurt that Theresa hadn’t told her about the coming child and distressed that Theresa was in tears. She knew that Mark sensed her guilt when he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and guided her inexorably towards his home. Jennifer would be even more upset if she found out that Theresa had returned and hadn’t come to see her immediately.
Jennifer had 5 sons but none of her daughters had survived more than a few days after birth. Theresa was the girl she’d always longed for and she’d lavished her with maternal love. She was the perfect companion to Mark, a petite, round woman with sparkling black eyes and glossy black hair. She too was a native American and she was just as generous and giving as her husband.
“No, child, Momma would have my head if I didn’t bring you home with me.” Mark overrode her objection without a moment’s thought. “Especially in your condition. Just when are you due, anyway?”
“Late next month, ideally.” Theresa smiled wanly at Mark’s look of skepticism and nodded her head in confirmation. “This is just the start of my ninth month.” She assured him, wishing she wasn’t so confident; that, like most women, she wasn’t positive of the day of conception.
Escaping the Centre had only given her freedom, it hadn't healed her battered spirit, and it had left her with more than just the hard lesson she’d learned about the dark side of human nature. The six weeks she'd spent with Jarod had been informative, and she'd regained a little of her confidence as she mastered the art of Pretending, but she didn't get the same thrill that Jarod seemed to with his stings. It had almost been a relief when she realized that her time at the Centre was going to have longer lasting consequences than she’d known. She hadn’t told Jarod why she was parting company, just that she was ready to make it on her own now.
She knew he was relieved too when she announced her intention to go off on her own---he’d been delaying his search for his family while he finished her training as a Pretender. Two people were hard enough to keep hidden; he hadn’t wanted the added complication of one of his family members to conceal. The capture of his father so soon after they had been reunited had left a scar on his soul and he was never going to take that risk again. So they’d gone their separate ways, each happy about it for their own reasons.
Theresa had thought about returning home, or rather, returning to the Winterwolf home, but she hadn't known how to tell them about her pregnancy. She still didn't what to tell them, really. Even she hadn't really absorbed the enormity of what was happening to her. She knew that Lyle and the Centre were responsible, but she wasn't sure just how they'd accomplished it. All she knew was that her vague memory of someone being in her room that last night wasn't a dream but was a reality.
Family Reunion
by Rebeckah
Theresa inhaled deeply, absorbing the scents of the forest surrounding her. These were the scents of home; rich earth, green leaves, and dew and just a hint of evergreen. She’d only returned this morning, but she couldn’t wait to immerse herself in the midst of the tall, stately trees of her childhood. To soothe her wounded spirit by walking along the beaten path that wound between tall trees blocking the gentle sunlight with their fresh green leaves. It felt like a Cathedral in this place; quiet, peaceful, and holy. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes as she soaked in the serenity and breathed in the sensation of life all around her.
Muscles in her back and shoulders released fractionally. Muscles that she hadn’t even known were tense. She wondered now why she’d waited so long to return home, why she’d let her fear and heartache keep her away from the familiar places----and people, of home.
“So, my little Owl has flown home.” A voice out of her childhood sounded behind her.
Just a few months earlier Theresa would have whirled to face the speaker behind her, first from fear of capture and then an instant later from the joy of reuniting with her dear friend and mentor from the reservation.
“Poppa Bear!” She turned cautiously, but with a warm smile, concentrating on maintaining her balance with her center of gravity so greatly skewed from her protruding belly.
She turned to see the same tall, broad-shouldered man who had seemed so strong and safe when she was a little girl. He really didn’t look like a bear, but he had to her childish eyes so many years ago, and he’d been happy to accept the nickname. His glossy black hair had more than a few strands of white in it now, and his stomach had thickened slightly with age, but he was still the solid rock she had leaned on through her confusing childhood, tempestuous adolescence, and the painful years while her mother weakened from her disease.
More tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and she didn’t know if they were tears of joy at the sight of the man who was a father to her in every way but blood, or tears of grief at the shock and disappointment that flashed through his eyes when he saw her for the first time.
“Momma has been worried about you, Owl. You haven’t called in months. And just what you think she’s going to think of this?” Mark Winterwolf chided her gently, gesturing towards her abdomen.
Theresa knew he didn’t refer to her mother, who had passed away nearly six years ago, but to his wife, Jennifer. Jennifer and Mark had befriended her as a young girl, bereft of both twin brother and father, and left in a strange place with an apathetic mother. They’d filled in the holes left by her mother’s emotional abandonment and adopted the scared and grieving girl into their large brood with the careless generosity that characterized their lives.
“I’m sorry, Poppa.” She told him sincerely, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. “So much has happened, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t tell you most of it over the phone.”
To her dismay the tears stopped pricking at the backs of her eyes and filled them instead. Mark saw them and swept her into a comforting hug that eased some of the ache left in her spirit after her dehumanizing experiences at the Centre.
“It’s okay, little one.” He soothed her, patting her back reassuringly. “Momma won’t really be mad.”
“I know.” She admitted, tears wetting his shoulder. “I missed you so very much, Poppa!”
Mark wondered what had happened to the stubbornly self-reliant young lady who’d left the reservation the same month her mother had died. Her letters and phone calls to them over the years had indicated her growing maturity, but she had retained her sense of self-confidence and fierce independence. Not even the overactive hormones of pregnancy could explain the way she clung to him now, like he was her only safety. Someone had hurt her badly, he realized, and his anger rose at the thought. He’d always had a soft spot for Theresa, with her pale blond curls and solemn blue eyes.
She forced herself to release the fierce grip she had on him and stepped back, trying to control the flow of tears. It seemed, though, that her hold on her pain, anger, and fear had been completely shattered. Tears continued to pour from her eyes even as she fought to stop them.
“I’ve been told pregnancy makes women emotional.” She sniffed half-heartedly, trying to ease the concern growing in his eyes. Mark gave her the same piercing look he’d given her as a child when he caught her lying, and urged her down the path.
“That is true, little Owl.” He told her gently. “But the emotions themselves are determined by the woman’s state of mind. Come, Momma is waiting.”
“I should really start unpacking.” She protested feebly, knowing that if Jennifer were to see her she would be hurt that Theresa hadn’t told her about the coming child and distressed that Theresa was in tears. She knew that Mark sensed her guilt when he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and guided her inexorably towards his home. Jennifer would be even more upset if she found out that Theresa had returned and hadn’t come to see her immediately.
Jennifer had 5 sons but none of her daughters had survived more than a few days after birth. Theresa was the girl she’d always longed for and she’d lavished her with maternal love. She was the perfect companion to Mark, a petite, round woman with sparkling black eyes and glossy black hair. She too was a native American and she was just as generous and giving as her husband.
“No, child, Momma would have my head if I didn’t bring you home with me.” Mark overrode her objection without a moment’s thought. “Especially in your condition. Just when are you due, anyway?”
“Late next month, ideally.” Theresa smiled wanly at Mark’s look of skepticism and nodded her head in confirmation. “This is just the start of my ninth month.” She assured him, wishing she wasn’t so confident; that, like most women, she wasn’t positive of the day of conception.
Escaping the Centre had only given her freedom, it hadn't healed her battered spirit, and it had left her with more than just the hard lesson she’d learned about the dark side of human nature. The six weeks she'd spent with Jarod had been informative, and she'd regained a little of her confidence as she mastered the art of Pretending, but she didn't get the same thrill that Jarod seemed to with his stings. It had almost been a relief when she realized that her time at the Centre was going to have longer lasting consequences than she’d known. She hadn’t told Jarod why she was parting company, just that she was ready to make it on her own now.
She knew he was relieved too when she announced her intention to go off on her own---he’d been delaying his search for his family while he finished her training as a Pretender. Two people were hard enough to keep hidden; he hadn’t wanted the added complication of one of his family members to conceal. The capture of his father so soon after they had been reunited had left a scar on his soul and he was never going to take that risk again. So they’d gone their separate ways, each happy about it for their own reasons.
Theresa had thought about returning home, or rather, returning to the Winterwolf home, but she hadn't known how to tell them about her pregnancy. She still didn't what to tell them, really. Even she hadn't really absorbed the enormity of what was happening to her. She knew that Lyle and the Centre were responsible, but she wasn't sure just how they'd accomplished it. All she knew was that her vague memory of someone being in her room that last night wasn't a dream but was a reality.
