by Ciara Shayee
She didn’t actually care.
Ines had been telling her for weeks that her recovery was exactly that—her own. She didn’t need to think about what she ‘should’ be doing, or what was expected of her. She was recovering and getting to know herself again, and feeling overwhelmed was okay. It would have been crazy if she weren’t overwhelmed at times.
At this moment, with her family around her and the knowledge of her tormentor’s demise fresh in her mind, Grace didn’t care what everyone might think of her actions.
Ryan grunted when she closed the distance between them, jumping a little to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He instinctively looped his arms around her lower back for support, and after his shock evaporated, he held her closer still. She felt warm and light against him, her cries muffled into his shoulder. He ducked his head to rest his forehead against the soft skin joining her neck to her shoulder, feeling a few tears of his own escaping.
Until he’d seen her and felt her throwing herself at him a few minutes ago, Ryan hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed Grace. He hadn’t known how much he needed her; how much he needed to see her safe and happy.
“It’s okay now,” she whispered a few moments later.
He cleared his throat and blinked away the sting of tears. “What do you mean?”
“It’s okay now.” Grace pulled back a little, so Ryan did, too. Their faces were inches apart, her feet dangling above the floor as he held her in the circle of his arms. He saw the sparkle of fresh tears in her eyes as well as the remnants of the last round clinging to her long lashes. She smiled; an expression that warmed Ryan from the inside.
Squeezing him tighter and pressing her face against his shoulder with a heaving sigh, Grace let herself relax, fully content and sure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t let her fall.
“Everything’s okay now. You’re here, so everything’s okay.”
~ oOo ~
December 25th, 2016
Soft butterfly kisses pulled Indie from her dreamless sleep.
She smiled, content to remain ‘asleep’ for a few moments longer. Quiet cooing from Bodhi’s crib told her that a certain, eager five-year-old had probably been rattling around for some time before climbing onto her bed; Bodhi was a light sleeper, and even the quietest sounds seemed to wake him. Thankfully, he was usually content to remain in his crib for a little while and watch the mobile turn over his head.
The sound of Marley's huff of frustration that her ministrations didn’t seem to be working made Indie shake as she attempted to stop herself from laughing aloud.
“Mummy, you ‘wake? Wake up! Wake up, Mummy!”
When Indie didn't immediately open her eyes, Marley's tiny fingertips crept over her cheeks. She opened her eyes quickly, just before Marley could try to pry them open.
Indie couldn't help but grin. Marley's hair was a riotous mess all around her face and she had the faint remains of a pillow line on her left cheek. Her eyes, Indie’s eyes, sparkled with excitement.
“Mummy, guess what! It's Chris’mas!”
Joy. Warmth. So much happiness—Indie barely knew what to do with all the emotion building in her chest.
“Is it? I didn't know.”
Marley rolled her eyes. “Yes, you did, silly. Can we go downstairs now? Pawpaw’s down there with Laker and Unca Ry. I heard them.”
Battling back tears, Indie nodded and told Marley to put on her dressing gown while she fetched Bodhi. Once Marley had scampered over to the wardrobe, her mother sighed and wiped away the few tears that had managed to leak free.
This was Marley's first Christmas.
She'd gotten caught up in the excitement but she still didn't know what to expect or what would happen when Indie took her downstairs. Marley had no concept of presents under the tree, or traditions like pulling crackers, the Queen’s speech on TV that nobody actually paid attention to in this house, or eating a huge roast dinner with paper crowns and turkey.
Indie couldn't wait to show it all to her, but it was bittersweet. She was five-years-old and only now experiencing what she should have had for the first time at nine-months-old. A March baby, she'd have celebrated her first Christmas while learning to crawl.
In reality, Marley had spent much of her first Christmas in bed with Indie and Grace. Smith had been in a rage upon his return from a ‘business trip’ on Christmas Eve, the subsequent bruises decorating Indie’s body for several days after the holidays had passed.
“Knock, knock.”
“Laker!” Marley gasped, flying to the door with only one arm in her gown, the rest of the garment training behind her as she threw open the door.
Laker was chuckling, one hand over his eyes. “Indie, I thought she might do that, so I'm not looking in case you aren't decent.”
Laughing, she climbed out of bed and told him she was dressed. He met her gaze with a warmth to his grassy green eyes that took her breath away.
She felt the sweep of his perusal over her fitted grey tank top and matching pyjama bottoms; electricity skittering over the surface of her body as she crossed the room to Bodhi, listening to Marley climbing Laker to wish him a merry Christmas.
“Whats’it I gotta say, Mummy? Merry Chris’mas?”
“Yeah, baby girl.”
Marley turned to Laker from where she rested on his hip, cupping his beard-covered jaw in her small hands with a beaming, toothy grin. “Merry Chris’mas, Laker.”
To Indie’s surprise, twin tears tumbled over Laker’s cheeks as he chuckled and leaned forward to give Marley an Eskimo kiss.
“Merry Christmas, Little Sweet.”
~ oOo ~
“Marley Grace Ashby, get your little butt back here!”
“But Mummy—”
“Uh-uh, no Miss Ma’am. Come here, please.”
Marley scowled, hanging her head and dragging Mr. Bunny behind her by his long, worn ears.
Despite her daughter’s petulance, Indie couldn’t help but fight a smile. In the months since their arrival in England, Marley had blossomed from a mute shell of a girl into a bright, vibrant, chatterbox of a child.
She’d also discovered her attitude, much to her mother’s consternation.
“What did I tell you?”
Marley stopped in front of Indie, refusing to make eye contact. “I dunno.”
Indie’s lips twitched higher. “What was that?”
“I dunno,” the little girl sighed, rolling her eyes. She’d picked up the gesture from Carl-Roman and it drove Indie crazy. She’d been trying, in vain, to cure her nephew of the habit.
“Miss Marley, are you misbehaving again?”
Immediately, Marley’s sullen expression evaporated and was replaced with a wide, beaming grin and a pair of sparkly blue-green eyes. She bounced away from Indie—right into her waiting uncle’s arms.
“No, Uncle Ry! I’m being good, right Mummy?”
Indie scoffed, but gestured for Ryan to bring Marley over so she could continue what she’d been trying to do before her wilful daughter decided to take off—get her dressed. “Not so much, baby girl. Once you’re dressed, you can go downstairs and play, okay?”
Marley scowled again, looking to Ryan for help. He shrugged with a chuckle, handing her over.
“You want to match Laker, right?”
“Yeah…” It was obvious he had her attention, then.
“Well he’ll be wearing the same as that,” Ryan told her, pointing to the red and white sweater Indie was holding. “He has one the exact same as yours. If I’m not mistaken, mine’s up here too, right?”
Indie nodded, tossing a large jumper towards him. He quickly tugged it over his head, unable to contain his smile when Marley giggled at the sight of her giant uncle dressed like a candy cane.
“Uncle Ry!” She snickered, hands flying up to cover her mouth. “You look silly!”
“Well, Miss Marley, I think it’s only fair you look silly with me. What d’you think?”
She seemed to think about
it for a moment, before nodding. “All right. I’ll be silly with you. Mummy, where’s mine?”
It only took a minute or two to tug the jumper over Marley’s head and lay her twin braids flat against her back, the little girl falling all over Indie’s bed in a fresh round of giggles when Ryan insisted on taking selfies of them together on his phone before she could go downstairs. He’d introduced her to the wonders of filters, and she was often found attached to Ryan as they pulled faces wearing odd hats or sporting strange face masks on the picture-taking app.
With Marley finally dressed in her jumper, Indie scooped the remaining two from the bed before following Ryan and her daughter down the stairs. Everybody was in the kitchen, just where they’d left them. She grinned when she spotted the two boys in the corner.
Laker was across the room leaning against the kitchen counter, one ankle crossed over the other, Bodhi resting in one arm. He quickly bored of being cradled these days, so Laker was holding him upright to allow him to look around, his neck control still a touch shaky. Every now and then, Bodhi wobbled his head to peer at his family, but as Indie watched, her son rested his face against Laker’s chest and suckled contentedly on his binky, little legs kicking. Laker hadn’t noticed her yet, so she took advantage of his distraction and stared.
Her eyes danced over his long legs encased in dark jeans and his muscular torso dressed in just a ribbed black tank, leaving his strong, tanned arms bare. She couldn’t help but melt at the sight of his thick biceps carefully holding her baby boy.
So much power, and yet he was so gentle.
“Laker, look! We match!”
Her cover was blown when Marley skipped straight to Laker to do a twirl in her red and white knit jumper, pointing over her shoulder towards Indie.
“Mummy’s got the same!”
Laker’s eyes found Indie, warmth infusing her cheeks with a soft, rosy hue at the intense look in his gaze. His lips curled up into a wide grin as he chuckled, adjusting Bodhi so that he could scoop Marley onto his other side, resting her against his hip.
Marley frowned as her eyes searched the room. “Where’s Carl-Roman and baby Chase?”
Smiling, Laker set her down and pointed her towards the table, where Carl-Roman and Chase were sitting, accompanied by Mark and Josie’s boys—Clarke and Dave. After planting a quick, smacking kiss to Laker’s beard-covered cheek, Marley darted between the legs of the adults to join her cousins and friends.
“So, I’m guessing that’s mine?” Laker asked sheepishly, indicating the jumper in Indie’s arms.
“Sure is. Here, gimme my boy. You need to get dressed.”
With Bodhi transferred to his mother’s arms, Laker took his jumper and pulled it over his head, making her laugh when it left his hair standing in all directions; a wild chestnut mess. When Indie looked up from her baby’s face, her subsequent laughter attracted the attention of various members of her extended family.
His outfit matched hers perfectly. They both wore dark jeans, white trainers, and black tanks under their candy cane jumpers.
They weren’t the only ones. Every single person in the house wore the same jumper—all knitted by Sarah and Mary. Even four-month-old Bodhi was sporting a similar outfit, only he wore a pair of soft, denim-effect trousers instead. They were made of the softest cotton, but made to look like a tiny pair of jeans.
“All right, picture time, everyone! Gather around!”
All eyes turned to Grace as she appeared in the doorway, brandishing the camera Peter had given her as an early Christmas gift. She’d been busily snapping photos of the entire clan in the lead-up to the holiday period, and this coordination of outfits had been orchestrated for this photo opportunity. Grace had grand plans of fitting everybody in beside the large Christmas tree. They’d even done a few practice runs to see whether it would work.
Archie unbuckled Chase from his highchair and settled Carl-Roman on his hip with Kristen at the end of the line. Mark, Josie, Clarke, and Dave were next, followed by Andy and Sarah, then Mary and Roy with Pippa and Heidi. Peter stood next to his twin daughters, saving a spot for Grace once she’d set up the camera, and chuckled at Reagan as he shoulder-checked him on his way past to his pre-assigned space. He stood with an arm around Indie and leaned over to give his grandson a quick kiss while he still had the chance, with Laker accepting Marley into his arms when she scaled his legs.
“Can I be in the picture with you, Laker?” She asked softly, big blue-green eyes wide and hopeful.
“Well, how could I say ‘no’ to that pretty little face, Little Sweet?”
She beamed. “You can’t, duh.”
“Duh…the attitude on this one, Indie. We’re gonna have to do something about it, you know?”
Indie tried, and failed, to hide the pleased smile on her face at Laker’s use of ‘we.’ More and more he took on a sort of parental role with Marley, though she was almost certain he didn’t realise what he was doing.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, it’ll have to wait, we’re busy right now. Right, Mars?” Grace called, clicking the camera into place on the tripod in the doorway. It needed to be as far away as possible, while still being able to see into the room without walls or furniture in the way. Checking the screen before taking her place in the line-up, Grace frowned. “Hold on…where’s Ryan?”
He poked his head in from outside, all eyes swivelling to find him. His shoulders hunched inwards a little at the perusal—Grace’s, in particular. “Yeah? You need me to press the button, or somethin’?”
Grace’s frown deepened. “No. You need to get over here. I’ve got a remote to take the photo, but we need everyone in it.”
Despite the chill in the air, and the gooseflesh covering his skin even beneath the layers of his thermal shirt and thick jumper, Ryan felt himself warm. “You want me in the photo?”
“Get over here, son. You’re part of this family now,” Peter told him, waving him over with an affectionate grin. He’d grown attached to Ryan in the months since his arrival and had almost adopted him as one of his own. More often than not, he, Reagan, Laker, Archie, and Ryan found themselves tinkering with new projects in the houses, or bonding over football on the TV.
“We may be a bit of a mish-mashed bunch, but you’re one of us now, man. Like it or lump it.”
Looking at all the expectant faces in the large, ‘mish-mashed bunch’ Peter had referred to, Ryan felt a surge of love and affection for the group. They’d welcomed him as though he’d always been there and never once made him feel like an outsider or an unwelcome interloper. Sarah and Andy had welcomed him into their home, the rest of the family inviting him to parties and Sunday dinners as though he’d always occupied a seat at their tables.
For the first time in his life, Ryan finally felt like maybe, just maybe, he fit.
“Come on, time’s a ticking, and the turkey’s almost ready for basting again,” Reagan tutted teasingly, shuffling over to make room for the large man once he’d closed the door and managed to wiggle through the limited space left in the room.
Ryan squeezed in beside Grace and felt his lips spreading into the widest grin they’d ever formed when, just as the camera clicked and the flash lit the room, a soft, small, warm set of fingers twined with his. Grace tilted her head at the last second to offer him a tiny smile.
It was the best Christmas present Ryan had ever received.
~ oOo ~
After dinner, when presents had been opened and bellies filled, crackers pulled, and obligatory Queen’s speech watched, Laker settled himself in the window seat.
He’d stripped off his jumper at some point between pulling his cracker with Marley and commiserating with the other men when meat sweats got the better of them mid-meal. The condensation on the window at his back cooled him enough that he didn’t even care his tank was getting wet. With so many bodies in the house, the heat was almost unbearable. Windows had been opened, the patio doors in the kitchen as wide as they would go.
>
Still, Laker had never felt as comfortable as he did at that moment. His eyes swept over the room, the smile on his face crooked and bookended by twin dimples. Reagan and Peter were arguing over by the sound system—Reagan for the so-called Christmas classics, and Peter for something more modern. As Laker watched, Marley settled the argument for her pawpaw and uncle.
“Pawpaw, Unca P, let’s listen to One Direction now.”
Always unable to argue with Marley, but especially today, on her first Christmas, they caved like accordions. Within minutes, she was dancing around the room with Carl-Roman and Dave, shouting random, not-entirely-correct lyrics to “That’s What Makes You Beautiful”.
It was perfect.
Archie and Kristen were sitting on the loveseat that had been borrowed from Peter’s to make sure there would be enough seating. It also meant the living room was decidedly cramped, with Reagan’s two sofas, Peter’s borrowed three-seater, and the armchair usually reserved for Pawpaw himself.
Pippa, Heidi, Alice, Mary, and Sarah were clustered together in one corner, flicking through photo albums and reminiscing over Christmases past. Roy had ventured next-door with Andy to show him a new power tool he’d purchased.
Laker frowned, realising Ryan had disappeared. Indie and Grace, too.
He was wondering whether to go looking for them when the trio appeared, laughing as they entered the living room.
Indie was carrying Bodhi while Grace had Chase. Both babies were fading fast, the day of festivities too exciting for either of them to sleep as much as they should have. Cradled in the women’s arms, Laker suspected it wouldn’t be long before they both succumbed to their tiredness. Following them was Ryan, and Laker couldn’t deny the rush of jealousy that bolted through his veins at the sight of his arm around Indie’s shoulders, and the smile on her face as she turned to look at him.
Until she looked back…and spotted him.
The world came to a standstill as Indie’s eyes met his. She looked beautiful; completely and utterly. Peace encapsulated her, joy emanating from her expression, her beautiful azure eyes aglow with love and light and all things right in the world. Still in her hand-knitted jumper and skinny jeans, with a pair of lilac slipper boots on her feet and her hair released from its braid to hang loose in effortless curls over her shoulder, to Laker, Indie was exquisite.