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seren_ccdTitle: Swimming in December
Fandom: Teeth, Claws and Guinness
Ship: Various pairings
Word Count: 5,891
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: They are, well, actually, these guys are mine. All of them. The title and lyrics are from the song We are the People by Empire of the Mind.
A/N: It was only a matter of time, y'all, so here is the first part of my original fic. it would probably help if you read these two snippets first: here and here. I had to split this up because the word count was getting ridiculous. The second part will be up this week!
*ETA: Fail! I forgot to tell you all that the lovely and amazing![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fringedweller beta'd this monster. Thank you!
Summary: Evan is beginning to learn all about the village. Including just how Hannah came to own the Sheep and Crow.
I can't do well when I think you're gonna leave me. But I know I try.
Are you gonna leave me now.
Can't you be believing now.
Evan had a large grin on his face when he walked into the pub. Hannah noticed immediately and started to grin back.
“All right,” she said. “What’s with the face?”
“We-ell, I took your advice,” he said.
“Of course you did,” Hannah said airily. “I give very good advice. Which morsel of brilliance in particular?”
“The morsel in regards to me finding gainful employment in the village as an accountant,” Evan said.
“And?” she asked bouncing on her feet.
“You are looking at the accountant for not one, not two, but four of the small businesses in this village,” he said hopping onto a bar stool. He spun around on the seat as Hannah applauded him.
“Congratulations, your actuarialness,” she said. “And just who are your esteemed clients?”
He began to list them while Hannah made noises of approval.
“Mabel’s Eatery.”
“Ooh, amazing sausage rolls.”
“Robert’s Hardware and Ironmongery.”
“They’ve got excellent tips for plastering a bathroom.”
“The fishmonger.”
“Aww, Uncle Stev! Wait ‘till he invites you to go fishing with him.”
“And last but not least, Sadie’s Clothes for Ladies.”
“Well, other than the fact that she keeps trying sell me pink cardigans, not bad, young man, not bad at all.”
“Thank you most kindly,” Evan said taking the pint she handed him and tipping his head in acceptance.
“I take this to mean you might be hanging around for the foreseeable future,” she said casually and yet avoiding his eyes. Evan felt his grin change into a small smile.
“You may take it that way, yes,” he said softly. After taking a drink of his bitter, he said, “I can’t go back, Hannah. I wouldn’t really know how to. And besides...”
“Besides...?”
He met her gaze directly. “I’m not sure I want to.”
“I told you this place grows on you,” she said warmly. Then she shook her head, breaking the moment. “Anyway. Good on you! Four new clients. Not too shabby.”
“Now the hard part,” Evan said. “I don’t suppose you have a computer I could borrow while I shop around for one?”
Hannah made a face, pursing her lips like she’d tasted something sour.
“What?” he asked. “You do have a computer, don’t you?”
“Well...”
Evan stared at the hunk of metal on Hannah’s ‘desk’ in her ‘office’. “What is that?”
“It’s a laptop.”
“No. No. Darlin’, that’s a dinosaur.”
“Hey!”
“Hannah, it’s a Compaq from 1998.”
“So?”
“So, when was the last time anyone used it?” he asked opening it and cringing at the creak of the joints.
“Um, I’m not altogether sure,” she said thoughtfully. “A few years ago?”
“A few...” Evan broke off and stared at her. Then he shook his head. “Dare I hope it can be hooked up to the internet?”
“Ha!” Hannah laughed and turned to head back into the pub. “Good luck with that, mate. Hardly anyone in the village gets the internet.”
“What? Why?” he asked grabbing the laptop off the desk and following her, grunting at the weight of it.
“No one’s completely sure,” she said. “Most likely because of all the energy flying about.”
“Energy?” he repeated flatly.
“Yeah, you know,” Hannah waved her hands in the air and widened her eyes. “Energy.”
“Right, yes, of course,” Evan said clenching his jaw. “Why should I have expected differently? Energy. Right. Bugger.”
“Oh, don’t get all growly,” she said ignoring his glare. “Just go and talk to Mr. Taylor.”
“Mr. Taylor? Who the heck is Mr. Taylor?”
“Mr. Taylor. He owns the bookshop. Taylor’s Titles,” she said. “Down on the corner, next to the bank. He has by far the best computer in the village and has done something to make sure his shop gets internet. He orders stuff for the rest of us.”
Evan put her laptop on the bar and took a drink of his pint and glared at the machine.
“He’s a really nice guy,” Hannah continued. “Knows everything there is to know about the village. Family histories and all that. If you’ve got any questions about, you know, stuff, he probably knows the answer.”
“Hmmph,” Evan said frowning and poking at her old laptop.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Hannah said flicking his forehead with her fingers. “Stop sulking and go talk to him.”
For the sake of his forehead (Hannah had very sharp fingers), he went to go talk to this Mr. Taylor.
As he opened the door to the narrow building with yellow window boxes filled with golden chrysanthemums, Evan was met by the melancholy sounds of one of Albioni’s adagios.
“Be right there,” a voice came from the back. “It’s about to get to the cheerful part.”
Evan held back a snort. He’d once had a girlfriend that was crazy about Baroque music, and she had listened to this particular piece of music quite a bit. He never would have called it cheerful.
So, he wandered the stacks of books, looking at the small row of bestsellers and larger rows of used books. With a smirk he pulled a copy of Anne of Green Gables off the shelf pondered giving to Hannah later. He wondered what she’d do to him if he started calling her ‘Carrots’. Then he put the book back on the shelf.
You’ve known the girl for a grand total of two weeks, he thought harshly. And you turn into a snarling beast when there’s a full moon. Hardly the time to even think about gifts.
As he moved towards the back, he caught sight of a large bookcase with stained glass doors on the front. Evan walked to have a closer look. The books inside were of different shapes and thickness, all bound in leather. Some were obviously very old with cracking spines. Others looked new and almost shiny.
Must be first editions, he thought. But as he leaned closer, he noticed none of the books had titles on their spines.
The music swelled and the key changed to something not quite as minor and he heard a pleased sigh. Then came the squeak of a chair and a man of medium height with kind eyes came into the store.
“Ah! You’re the new village accountant!” he said cheerfully. “I’ve heard all about you. I’m afraid to say I handle my own taxes.”
“Well, I’ll try not to hold it against you,” Evan said with chuckle. “I’m kind of surprised you know about me. Must be the small town grapevine or something.”
Mr. Taylor gave Evan a small smile. “Or something. I’m Ray Taylor.” He held out his hand and Evan shook it.
“Evan Michaels, pleasure.”
“Likewise, Mr. Michaels. Now what can I do for you?”
“I’m looking to order a new computer,” Evan said. “I, uh, had to leave mine behind. I also heard you’ve got an internet connection...”
“Oh, sure,” Mr. Taylor said. “I recommend the latest Dell. Good warranty. Unless you’re a Mac man.”
“Not really,” Evan said. “Just something with enough power to run Excel without freezing every two minutes.”
Mr. Taylor nods. “I know exactly what you mean. Let me look up some options for you tonight and you can come by tomorrow and pick one. Or I can come by the Sheep and Crow. You’re staying with the Rees girl, right?”
“You mean Hannah?” Evan asked. “I thought her last name was MacNeil?”
“Oh, well, her name’s MacNeil and she was born a MacNeil, but she’s a Rees girl through and through, no mistaking that,” Mr. Taylor said with a smile.
“I’m sorry? I don’t quite catch your meaning,” Evan said furrowing his brow.
Mr Taylor tilted his head in contemplation and studied Evan. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Follow me.”
The older man walked around the counter and headed towards the glass encased bookcase. He reached his right hand into the pocket of his well-worn green cords and pulled out a set of keys. Evan watched Mr. Taylor unlock the case and run his fingers over the spines of the books held inside. He stopped on a dark blue book just less than an inch wide. Mr. Taylor pulled the book off the shelf and looked at Evan.
“I’ve lived in this village most of my adult life,” Mr. Taylor said. “Moved here with my wife. Something about the place just sort of spoke to us. Bought this shop here and the rooms above it. Always loved history, especially genealogy, figuring out all those little connections to other people. Wrote some of the stories I heard down.”
He handed Evan the blue book, Evan took it and looked at Mr. Taylor in confusion. The older man said, “That there is the story of the Reeses. They’ve been here for awhile. I’d start with the one about Collen, Hannah’s granddad.”
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Evan said feeling the soft leather of the journal. “This is Hannah’s family history?”
“Most of it,” Mr. Taylor said with a chuckle. “At least all the juicy bits.”
“I can’t read this,” Evan said as he tried to hand the book back. “It wouldn’t be right. I’d be invading her privacy.”
Mr. Taylor smiled. “I don’t think she’d mind. Take the journal with you. Ask Miss MacNeil if she’d mind you learning a bit about the village. If she does, bring it back. If she doesn’t, well...then you’ve got yourself a good bedtime story.”
Evan studied the man in front of him and glanced down at the journal he held in his hand. The weight of it settled in his palm and his chest. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because, even though I don’t think you’ve quite admitted it to yourself yet, you belong here. In the village. And you should probably have something of a heads up about all that entails.” Mr. Taylor clapped a hand on Evan’s shoulder and grinned. “Now, about your new laptop...”
“How did it go?” Hannah asked as the crowd around the bar finally started to disperse in favor of the match on the ancient telly in the corner. “Did you get your computer woes sorted?”
“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Evan said nodding still feeling a bit dazed. “You were right. He’s an interesting guy. He, uh, gave me something though.”
Evan pulled the blue journal out of his bag and put it on the bar top. Hannah raised her eyebrows.
“Wow. The family journal,” she said. “I forgot he had that. Have you read any of it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think it’d be right.”
“Well, I think you should,” Hannah said. “It might give you some insight into life here.”
“But, it’s your private history,” Evan protested. Hannah shook her head.
“Evan, read it. I want you to. Yes, it’s got stuff in there that’s personal. But, it also has some beautiful stories.” She looked down at her hands and the corners of her mouth turned down. “It’s got some sad ones too.”
Without thinking, Evan reached over and put his hand on top of hers. Startled, Hannah looked up. Their eyes met and Evan felt a pressure in his chest. The wolf in him moved restlessly and all of his senses flared up. He smelled each individual scent in the pub, he felt the softness of her skin under his hand and could hear the thrum of her pulse.
Hannah blinked first and drew her hand away. She bit her lip and said, “Read it. Please.”
Then she was gone, with a smile back on her face as she pulled a pint of Strongbow for one of the local lads.
Evan sat perfectly still, relishing the traces of her that continued to swirl around him.
When it became clear that she was too busy and wasn't coming back his way, he moved over to one of the small tables to watch the game and make some notes about his new clients.
After watching Manchester play with an alarming amount of rubbishness, he decided to call it a night. He finished off the rest of his drink, grabbed the journal and his bag and caught Hannah's eye. She smiled her good-night to him and he headed upstairs to the room she had loaned him until he found his own place.
Evan shut the door and dropped his bag on the chair next to the small desk in the corner. He toed off his shoes and shucked his jeans off. His eyes automatically went to the small calendar tacked on the wall next to his bed, zeroing in on the little box with an X smack in the center in red ink.
One week and one day until the full moon.
Pulling off his shirt, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He faced his reflection and looked at his left shoulder. Scar tissue clearly in the shape of teeth marks decorated the are just below his throat. Evan lifted a hand and touched the scars, tracing the puncture marks where the beast, the other werewolf had sunk his teeth into his flesh. He flinched as though her could still feel the canines ripping into him, tearing at him, the smell of iron filling his nose as blood sprayed onto his face.
God, Evan thought bitterly, the ridges of the scars under his fingertips. Am I just kidding myself here?
He dropped his hand and glared at his reflection.
Christ, man, what are you doing? Living here? Working here? Letting these people, letting Hannah trust you? You know what you are.
So does she, a soft inner voice chimed in.
Evan shook his head and turned away from the mirror, dropping down onto the small, single bed. He grimaced when he realised that he’d landed on the blue journal. He shifted and grabbed the book.
He turned on the bedside lamp and after a moment of hesitation, opened the journal.
The first page had the title: The Stories of the Rees Family, with an inscription below.
The stories about to be told are made up of several things: happiness, sorrow, a touch of a fairy tale, a good dose of the mundane and, of course, love.
All of it is True.
Evan leafed through the first few pages, learning that the Reeses had lived in the area for years. Always in the same place, always managing the local freehouse, pub, watering hole, or whatever it was called at that particular time and place.
As he got towards the middle of the book, the name 'Collen' jumped out at him. Remembering Mr. Taylor's advice, Evan adjusted the pillow behind his head and began to read.
Collen’s Story
Once upon a time there was a man named Collen who lived in a small town in the mountains of Snowdonia. His family had lived in the village of Cwm Alaw for several generations and he was highly content to be the latest owner of the Sheep and Crow, the local pub.
“It was once a tavern for the Romans,” his grandfather told him once. “But, before that, do you know who used to come here? To this very spot?”
Collen had looked up into dark brown eyes so similar to his own. “Who, Taid?”
The old man leaned close. “The fae.”
“Why?” Collen asked. The old man smiled, his corner of his eyes crinkling.
“Who knows? To dance? To settle disagreements? To have a simple drink?” He shrugged. “Who knows why the fae do what they do?”
“Do they still come?” Collen asked.
“Of course they do!” his grandfather said. He nodded towards a lady at the bar. “There’s Mr. and Mrs. Plotkin now. She’s a quarter dryad and rumour has it, his grandmother could turn into a sparrow.”
“Wow,” the little boy said. He frowned. “What do we do?”
“We? You mean the Reeses?” his grandfather asked. He grinned. “We keep the drink flowing, my boy. And there’s nothing more magical than that.”
Being the son of the owner of the pub, Collen knew the names of most of the villagers by the time he was seven. He was a quiet lad, content to watch the world go by. School was a necessary chore, but not terrible one. Collen took to maths and was helping his folks with the accounts by the time he was fifteen. Sixteen rolled around and as his dad was beginning to slow down, Collen took over the running of the pub.
There was the occasional girlfriend, but in a small village, it’s hard to find someone that a) you didn’t already know all of their secrets and b) who didn’t already know all of yours. By the time he was twenty-three, he had more or less given up on the prospect of finding someone.
So, even though most of his friends had married and had someone to go home to in the evenings, he was still single and happy to be so. He had his pub, he had his friends, and he had no regrets.
Then he found her.
The small bend in the river not ten miles from town was Collen’s favorite spot to fish. It was quiet and the water was clear and cool, but best of all? The fish practically jumped into his bucket.
It was a Thursday morning and he was sitting on the flat rock that he always used, while his friend Stev, was just a little ways upstream.
Stev was the local fishmonger and Thursday was his day off. Collen and he had been fishing together since they were boys. While most of village had some idea that Stev was different, only Collen and a few others knew just how different.
“You mind if I, ah, let out my feathers?” Stev asked as the sun was just beginning to reach the top of the mountain behind them.
“Not at all,” Collen said. “Just leave a few for me, if you don’t mind.”
“Cheers, mate.”
Collen politely looked away and reeled his line back in, giving Stev some privacy. He heard the other man take off his shirt and there was a slight crunching sound and then a sigh of relief. Collen turned back just in time to see Stev dive into the water, slick, black feathers now covering his upper body.
The part man - part water bird sliced through the water quickly. He emerged only to dive back down with a funny ducking of his head.
Now, it was never exactly certain how Stev came to be as he was. But, when he was ten and discovered that he could catch fish with remarkable accuracy and get paid for his troubles, any bad feelings he might have had towards his dual species status disappeared.
The only argument he ever had over his nature was a long-standing one with his wife, Grace.
“I’m an anhinga!”
“No, you’re not! You live in Wales, anhingas live in warmer climates. You’re a cormorant.”
“Woman, don’t you think I know what I am?”
“I think your feathers are in a twist and you just think anhinga sounds nicer than cormorant.”
Collen watched as his friend popped back up with a large wild brown trout in his hands. Stev grinned and tossed the fish in Collen’s direction.
“For you! On the house!” Stev dove back under and Collen chuckled as he put the wriggling fish into his bucket. Collen picked up his fishing tackle and moved further downstream, to give Stev some room.
He rounded the bend to where the old hazel tree grew, its branches heavy with the weight of the hazelnuts just about ready to fall. As he walked towards a spot of sunlight on the river bank, he noticed something on the opposite side. Something was caught in the old roots of the old tree. It bobbed gently in the current. Collen peered and tried to see what it was.
He squinted and then in realization of what he was looking at he gave a yell. “Stev! Get over here!”
Collen quickly waded into the river and over to the other side, the cold water stinging his skin and filling his shoes. Absently, he heard Stev swimming towards him.
“Is that a woman?” Stev asked when he got close, swiping his black hair back over his scalp.
Collen didn’t answer, instead he gently pulled at her body to loosen it from the roots. He lifted her upper body out of the water. Gingerly, he leaned down and held his ear to her mouth. The faintest of air breathed out of her mouth and tickled his ear.
“She’s alive,” he said. “Let’s get her to the other side. Hurry.”
Stev joined him and together, they carefully lifted her out of the water and carried her to the river bank. They laid her down and Collen looked at her. Her skin was as pale as her hair was dark. She wore a simple shift of black made from an odd, slippery material.
“Who is she?” Stev asked.
“Don’t know,” was the soft answer. “Get a blanket, she’s shivering.” Stev gave his friend a worried look, but Collen was focused on the woman that lay before him.
Who are you? Collen thought as he took her hand and enfolded it in his own. He rubbed gently at her pulse and her eyelids fluttered. A plaintive sound emerged from her mouth and she shivered and turned her head towards the river.
“It’s okay,” Collen murmured. “Easy, easy.”
The woman’s eyes opened slowly and she turned to look up at him. Collen’s breath caught in his throat as the darkest eyes he’d ever seen looked into his own. She looked upon with a daze that soon became panicked. She sucked in a breath and then started to cough, her face contorting as she tried to breathe. She turned over and faced the ground as she coughed.
“That’s it. Nice and slow. Easy there. One breath at a time. That does it.” Collen hardly knew what he was saying as he kept his voice pitched low and reassuring, his hand rubbing a circle on her back.
The coughing ceased and she looked over her shoulder at him. Her lips parted and her eyes looked haunted and fearful. But Collen simply smiled.
“Hi,” he said softly. “My name’s Collen. What’s yours?”
(*(*(*(*)*)*)*)
She called herself Meriel but couldn’t (or didn’t know) remember her surname. Her voice was throaty and she smelled of the sea breeze, salty and crisp. She went back with Collen and Stev to the village. When asked if she wanted to see the doctor or the police, she shook her head.
“I think I’m where I’m supposed to be,” she said, glancing shyly at Collen. For the first time in a long time, Collen felt his face heat up.
His mother objected, of course, but Collen took Meriel back to his small one-storey house on the edge of the village complete with a small garden in the back and a wood just behind that turned into the forest surrounding the village. He and a few friends had built the house only a year ago.
“Sometimes it’s just nice to be away from the village,” he told her as she trailed her fingertips over the top of the kitchen table, her feet and legs still bare, but her upper half wrapped up in his old anorak. Collen fidgeted and was unsure where to put his hands. She took the decision away from him when she walked to stand in front of him and took his hands in hers.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said. “But, I don’t know how long I can stay.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” he said honestly. A slow smile spread across her face and once again, Collen felt his breath stolen away from his lungs.
(*(*(*(*)*)*)*)
As the days went past, it was soon discovered that Meriel had a gift for cooking. Put a set of ingredients in front of her and she could create anything. She would make something that would sit simmering in a pot all day, and it would be ready when Collen came home from the pub late at night.
She liked to watch him eat and smiled and asked questions about his evening and the villagers. He encouraged her to go out during the day, meet people. Meriel would shake her head a little and look out the window into the dark night and simply say, “Maybe. Maybe I will.”
The next day, she surprised him by showing up at the pub right as it started to get busy. He smiled so brightly, everyone fell silent and looked amazed at the normally taciturn man eagerly showed this lady around. She smiled back and while she hardly said a word, villagers were left with the impression that they had been in the presence of something not of this world.
But, the village of Cwm Alaw was used to otherworldly, so the sensation only lasted a few moments and soon it was as though she had always been there.
After that, she was often seen walking into town and going to the shops. She had tea on occasion with some of the other ladies, but seemed to prefer to spend her time at Collen’s house, tending the garden or cooking or in the pub, watching him work. Meriel was always friendly, but sometimes an odd look would come over her face, as though she had smelled something and it caused her pain. She’d look in the direction of the sea and close her eyes.
A month to the day Collen found her trapped in the roots, he came home to find a note asking him to meet Meriel at the old quarry. He frowned and quickly darted through the back door, through the wood to the quarry that lay on the far side of town. Autumn had clung to the mountains as long as it was able, but the chill of winter was encroaching and Collen’s breath could be seen as he rushed through the woods.
He stumbled to a halt at the edge of the round pool and looked around for Meriel. The moonlight reflected off the still, black water and the breeze ruffled the trees behind him.
“Meriel?” he called quietly.
“Over here.” He looked in the direction of her voice and sucked in a breath. She stood above the pool on a small ledge of slate. She wore nothing but a thin white slip and her dark, curling hair was wild around her shoulders. Collen met her eyes and she smiled.
Then she dove cleanly into the pool.
Collen let out a yell and splashed into the water. He stopped when the water was up to his waist and called her name. Once. Twice. Three times. As he opened his mouth to call her name a fourth time, she emerged from the water laughing and gasping.
“What are you doing you mad woman?” he asked, his face torn between exasperation and fear.
“I’m swimming,” she said. She swam right up to him. Then she stood before him, drenched and shivering. Shyly, she looked up into his eyes, then raised herself up on her tiptoes and gently kissed his lips.
“You’re so warm,” she whispered. Something in him broke and Collen placed his hands on her hips and he roughly pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. She wound herself around him and kissed him back just as feverishly.
“May I... Can I...?” he asked kissing the column of her neck and her shoulder.
“Yes, yes, oh, yes,” Meriel murmured. Collen swept her up out of the water and stumbled to dry land.
They made love, right there at the base of an old oak tree, next to the old quarry; the moon shining high in the sky and the water still and black, with the breeze at their backs.
After that, Meriel shared Collen’s bed, always pulling his arms tight around her, seeking out his warmth. Collen found himself racing through the day and his night at the pub, to get home to her and their bed. In fact, he let his brother, Bryn, take on a few shifts so that Collen could spend the entire evening in Meriel’s arms.
It wasn’t a surprise when a month later Meriel discovered she was pregnant.
Collen immediately started to construct an extension to his small house and choosing names. One night, as they lay in bed, his large hand on her stomach, he asked her to marry him.
“Don’t ask me that,” she said sadly.
“Why not?” he asked. “You live with me. That’s my child you’re carrying. Do you not love me?”
Meriel shifted in bed so that she faced him. She held hid hand in both of hers. Her voice was strong and steady as she said, “I love you. I will always love you. I will live with you. I will share your home and your bed. I will bear your child. But, I will not be bound to you. Not by any word of man’s. I cannot. Please, Collen. Don’t ask it of me.”
Collen studied her face and nodded once. Then kissing her deeply, they fell into each other’s arms.
While Collen was ecstatic about the coming baby, Meriel seemed to sink further and further into a depression that she could not be drawn from. Watching the starlings as they swirled around the treetops at dusk no longer made her smile. The only time she entered the kitchen was to drink a tall glass of milk, her former enthusiasm for cooking had faded.
Collen was worried.
"She'll be fine, Coll," Grace said when Stev and she came for a visit. "Just give her some time. People react differently to pregnancy. Once the baby comes, it'll be different. You just wait and see."
Sadly, Grace was right.
Meriel went into labor on a moonless Friday night. It was painful and tears fell from her eyes and her face screwed up into a grimace while she tried to push the child from her body.
Collen was allowed to stay with her only after he threatened Dr. Carson, Sr. with violence. Collen held Meriel's hand and while she screamed and cried, he stayed calm and pressed his lips to her temple.
At 3:33 in the morning on Sunday, Gwendi Marie Rees entered the world.
Meriel fell back onto the bed and closed her eyes, breathing hard and her hand fell away from Collen's. He barely noticed as the doctor put his daughter into his arms. The little person in his arms looked up at him and Collen fell in love.
"Hello, Gwendi," he said. "I'm your dad."
He looked over at Meriel, but she had slipped into a deep sleep.
"It's natural, Collen," Dr. Carson said. "Let her rest. That was a heck of battle she went through."
When Meriel woke up and was handed her daughter, her lips trembled and she pressed a kiss to the little girl's forehead and murmured something that Collen couldn't quite make out.
The little family went home four days later and all appeared to be well.
But, Collen began to notice strange things about Meriel. She was becoming distracted. She'd leave a pot boiling on the stove while she stared out the window. She'd sleep for a few hours and then get up and wander the house restlessly, looking in drawers and cupboards as though she were looking for something. One day he came home to find her soaking in the bathtub holding a container of salt watching as the granules poured into the water.
He tried to talk to her. He tried pleading with her. What could he do?
He always got the same answer:
"Oh Collen, there's nothing you can do."
After that, Collen took over the caring of their daughter. Gwendi was a quiet yet responsive baby, especially when her dad was close by. She always ate on time and by the time she was four weeks old, she would sleep for six hours straight in the night. Meriel and she never had the same bond that Gwendi had with her father. It was evident in the way Meriel held her and the frown that would cross Gwendi's tiny features.
Collen felt that it was all leading up to something. Something that made his heart hurt and his gut twist painfully.
Then one day, he woke up and Meriel was gone.
He searched the house and the garden, but she was gone. Her shoes were by the door and she had left her coat. Collen grabbed Gwendi from her crib, causing the baby to cry fitfully at being woken up. He drove her to his brother's house and told Bryn to watch her while he looked for Meriel.
Collen drove throughout the town with no luck.
Suddenly, a thought struck him and he abruptly turned his car around in the direction of the river. He arrived at his fishing spot and ran through the branches to where he had first found Meriel.
Collen stopped at the edge of the river when he saw her. She was standing in the deepest section of the river, wearing the black shift he'd found her in.
"Meriel," he said, his voice breaking.
She wouldn't look at him and only said, "I told you I wasn't sure how long I could stay."
"Meriel, please," Collen pleaded.
"Love our daughter," she said. "But never let her see the sea. Never."
She finally turned her head to look at him. Her irises were large and brown as she said, "Thank you for saving me."
Then she dove into the water. Collen shouted and splashed into the river, but she was gone.
He never saw her again.
Evan put the journal face down on his chest and cocked his head listening to the sounds of the building. He heard the locking of the store room and the jingling of keys that heralded Hannah leaving for the night. Evan checked his watch. One o’clock. She wouldn’t be back until tomorrow at lunchtime. He fought the urge to go downstairs and make her sit down and tell him the stories he was reading. Have the ‘truth’ come out of her mouth, have her lips frame the words and tell him everything.
He heard the closing of the heavy oak door and the throwing of the lock. Evan sighed and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.
After he let his hands fall to his chest and he blinked away the stars, he picked up the journal and started to read once more.
Part Two
Fandom: Teeth, Claws and Guinness
Ship: Various pairings
Word Count: 5,891
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: They are, well, actually, these guys are mine. All of them. The title and lyrics are from the song We are the People by Empire of the Mind.
A/N: It was only a matter of time, y'all, so here is the first part of my original fic. it would probably help if you read these two snippets first: here and here. I had to split this up because the word count was getting ridiculous. The second part will be up this week!
*ETA: Fail! I forgot to tell you all that the lovely and amazing
fringedweller beta'd this monster. Thank you!Summary: Evan is beginning to learn all about the village. Including just how Hannah came to own the Sheep and Crow.
I can't do well when I think you're gonna leave me. But I know I try.
Are you gonna leave me now.
Can't you be believing now.
Evan had a large grin on his face when he walked into the pub. Hannah noticed immediately and started to grin back.
“All right,” she said. “What’s with the face?”
“We-ell, I took your advice,” he said.
“Of course you did,” Hannah said airily. “I give very good advice. Which morsel of brilliance in particular?”
“The morsel in regards to me finding gainful employment in the village as an accountant,” Evan said.
“And?” she asked bouncing on her feet.
“You are looking at the accountant for not one, not two, but four of the small businesses in this village,” he said hopping onto a bar stool. He spun around on the seat as Hannah applauded him.
“Congratulations, your actuarialness,” she said. “And just who are your esteemed clients?”
He began to list them while Hannah made noises of approval.
“Mabel’s Eatery.”
“Ooh, amazing sausage rolls.”
“Robert’s Hardware and Ironmongery.”
“They’ve got excellent tips for plastering a bathroom.”
“The fishmonger.”
“Aww, Uncle Stev! Wait ‘till he invites you to go fishing with him.”
“And last but not least, Sadie’s Clothes for Ladies.”
“Well, other than the fact that she keeps trying sell me pink cardigans, not bad, young man, not bad at all.”
“Thank you most kindly,” Evan said taking the pint she handed him and tipping his head in acceptance.
“I take this to mean you might be hanging around for the foreseeable future,” she said casually and yet avoiding his eyes. Evan felt his grin change into a small smile.
“You may take it that way, yes,” he said softly. After taking a drink of his bitter, he said, “I can’t go back, Hannah. I wouldn’t really know how to. And besides...”
“Besides...?”
He met her gaze directly. “I’m not sure I want to.”
“I told you this place grows on you,” she said warmly. Then she shook her head, breaking the moment. “Anyway. Good on you! Four new clients. Not too shabby.”
“Now the hard part,” Evan said. “I don’t suppose you have a computer I could borrow while I shop around for one?”
Hannah made a face, pursing her lips like she’d tasted something sour.
“What?” he asked. “You do have a computer, don’t you?”
“Well...”
Evan stared at the hunk of metal on Hannah’s ‘desk’ in her ‘office’. “What is that?”
“It’s a laptop.”
“No. No. Darlin’, that’s a dinosaur.”
“Hey!”
“Hannah, it’s a Compaq from 1998.”
“So?”
“So, when was the last time anyone used it?” he asked opening it and cringing at the creak of the joints.
“Um, I’m not altogether sure,” she said thoughtfully. “A few years ago?”
“A few...” Evan broke off and stared at her. Then he shook his head. “Dare I hope it can be hooked up to the internet?”
“Ha!” Hannah laughed and turned to head back into the pub. “Good luck with that, mate. Hardly anyone in the village gets the internet.”
“What? Why?” he asked grabbing the laptop off the desk and following her, grunting at the weight of it.
“No one’s completely sure,” she said. “Most likely because of all the energy flying about.”
“Energy?” he repeated flatly.
“Yeah, you know,” Hannah waved her hands in the air and widened her eyes. “Energy.”
“Right, yes, of course,” Evan said clenching his jaw. “Why should I have expected differently? Energy. Right. Bugger.”
“Oh, don’t get all growly,” she said ignoring his glare. “Just go and talk to Mr. Taylor.”
“Mr. Taylor? Who the heck is Mr. Taylor?”
“Mr. Taylor. He owns the bookshop. Taylor’s Titles,” she said. “Down on the corner, next to the bank. He has by far the best computer in the village and has done something to make sure his shop gets internet. He orders stuff for the rest of us.”
Evan put her laptop on the bar and took a drink of his pint and glared at the machine.
“He’s a really nice guy,” Hannah continued. “Knows everything there is to know about the village. Family histories and all that. If you’ve got any questions about, you know, stuff, he probably knows the answer.”
“Hmmph,” Evan said frowning and poking at her old laptop.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Hannah said flicking his forehead with her fingers. “Stop sulking and go talk to him.”
For the sake of his forehead (Hannah had very sharp fingers), he went to go talk to this Mr. Taylor.
As he opened the door to the narrow building with yellow window boxes filled with golden chrysanthemums, Evan was met by the melancholy sounds of one of Albioni’s adagios.
“Be right there,” a voice came from the back. “It’s about to get to the cheerful part.”
Evan held back a snort. He’d once had a girlfriend that was crazy about Baroque music, and she had listened to this particular piece of music quite a bit. He never would have called it cheerful.
So, he wandered the stacks of books, looking at the small row of bestsellers and larger rows of used books. With a smirk he pulled a copy of Anne of Green Gables off the shelf pondered giving to Hannah later. He wondered what she’d do to him if he started calling her ‘Carrots’. Then he put the book back on the shelf.
You’ve known the girl for a grand total of two weeks, he thought harshly. And you turn into a snarling beast when there’s a full moon. Hardly the time to even think about gifts.
As he moved towards the back, he caught sight of a large bookcase with stained glass doors on the front. Evan walked to have a closer look. The books inside were of different shapes and thickness, all bound in leather. Some were obviously very old with cracking spines. Others looked new and almost shiny.
Must be first editions, he thought. But as he leaned closer, he noticed none of the books had titles on their spines.
The music swelled and the key changed to something not quite as minor and he heard a pleased sigh. Then came the squeak of a chair and a man of medium height with kind eyes came into the store.
“Ah! You’re the new village accountant!” he said cheerfully. “I’ve heard all about you. I’m afraid to say I handle my own taxes.”
“Well, I’ll try not to hold it against you,” Evan said with chuckle. “I’m kind of surprised you know about me. Must be the small town grapevine or something.”
Mr. Taylor gave Evan a small smile. “Or something. I’m Ray Taylor.” He held out his hand and Evan shook it.
“Evan Michaels, pleasure.”
“Likewise, Mr. Michaels. Now what can I do for you?”
“I’m looking to order a new computer,” Evan said. “I, uh, had to leave mine behind. I also heard you’ve got an internet connection...”
“Oh, sure,” Mr. Taylor said. “I recommend the latest Dell. Good warranty. Unless you’re a Mac man.”
“Not really,” Evan said. “Just something with enough power to run Excel without freezing every two minutes.”
Mr. Taylor nods. “I know exactly what you mean. Let me look up some options for you tonight and you can come by tomorrow and pick one. Or I can come by the Sheep and Crow. You’re staying with the Rees girl, right?”
“You mean Hannah?” Evan asked. “I thought her last name was MacNeil?”
“Oh, well, her name’s MacNeil and she was born a MacNeil, but she’s a Rees girl through and through, no mistaking that,” Mr. Taylor said with a smile.
“I’m sorry? I don’t quite catch your meaning,” Evan said furrowing his brow.
Mr Taylor tilted his head in contemplation and studied Evan. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Follow me.”
The older man walked around the counter and headed towards the glass encased bookcase. He reached his right hand into the pocket of his well-worn green cords and pulled out a set of keys. Evan watched Mr. Taylor unlock the case and run his fingers over the spines of the books held inside. He stopped on a dark blue book just less than an inch wide. Mr. Taylor pulled the book off the shelf and looked at Evan.
“I’ve lived in this village most of my adult life,” Mr. Taylor said. “Moved here with my wife. Something about the place just sort of spoke to us. Bought this shop here and the rooms above it. Always loved history, especially genealogy, figuring out all those little connections to other people. Wrote some of the stories I heard down.”
He handed Evan the blue book, Evan took it and looked at Mr. Taylor in confusion. The older man said, “That there is the story of the Reeses. They’ve been here for awhile. I’d start with the one about Collen, Hannah’s granddad.”
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Evan said feeling the soft leather of the journal. “This is Hannah’s family history?”
“Most of it,” Mr. Taylor said with a chuckle. “At least all the juicy bits.”
“I can’t read this,” Evan said as he tried to hand the book back. “It wouldn’t be right. I’d be invading her privacy.”
Mr. Taylor smiled. “I don’t think she’d mind. Take the journal with you. Ask Miss MacNeil if she’d mind you learning a bit about the village. If she does, bring it back. If she doesn’t, well...then you’ve got yourself a good bedtime story.”
Evan studied the man in front of him and glanced down at the journal he held in his hand. The weight of it settled in his palm and his chest. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because, even though I don’t think you’ve quite admitted it to yourself yet, you belong here. In the village. And you should probably have something of a heads up about all that entails.” Mr. Taylor clapped a hand on Evan’s shoulder and grinned. “Now, about your new laptop...”
“How did it go?” Hannah asked as the crowd around the bar finally started to disperse in favor of the match on the ancient telly in the corner. “Did you get your computer woes sorted?”
“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Evan said nodding still feeling a bit dazed. “You were right. He’s an interesting guy. He, uh, gave me something though.”
Evan pulled the blue journal out of his bag and put it on the bar top. Hannah raised her eyebrows.
“Wow. The family journal,” she said. “I forgot he had that. Have you read any of it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think it’d be right.”
“Well, I think you should,” Hannah said. “It might give you some insight into life here.”
“But, it’s your private history,” Evan protested. Hannah shook her head.
“Evan, read it. I want you to. Yes, it’s got stuff in there that’s personal. But, it also has some beautiful stories.” She looked down at her hands and the corners of her mouth turned down. “It’s got some sad ones too.”
Without thinking, Evan reached over and put his hand on top of hers. Startled, Hannah looked up. Their eyes met and Evan felt a pressure in his chest. The wolf in him moved restlessly and all of his senses flared up. He smelled each individual scent in the pub, he felt the softness of her skin under his hand and could hear the thrum of her pulse.
Hannah blinked first and drew her hand away. She bit her lip and said, “Read it. Please.”
Then she was gone, with a smile back on her face as she pulled a pint of Strongbow for one of the local lads.
Evan sat perfectly still, relishing the traces of her that continued to swirl around him.
When it became clear that she was too busy and wasn't coming back his way, he moved over to one of the small tables to watch the game and make some notes about his new clients.
After watching Manchester play with an alarming amount of rubbishness, he decided to call it a night. He finished off the rest of his drink, grabbed the journal and his bag and caught Hannah's eye. She smiled her good-night to him and he headed upstairs to the room she had loaned him until he found his own place.
Evan shut the door and dropped his bag on the chair next to the small desk in the corner. He toed off his shoes and shucked his jeans off. His eyes automatically went to the small calendar tacked on the wall next to his bed, zeroing in on the little box with an X smack in the center in red ink.
One week and one day until the full moon.
Pulling off his shirt, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He faced his reflection and looked at his left shoulder. Scar tissue clearly in the shape of teeth marks decorated the are just below his throat. Evan lifted a hand and touched the scars, tracing the puncture marks where the beast, the other werewolf had sunk his teeth into his flesh. He flinched as though her could still feel the canines ripping into him, tearing at him, the smell of iron filling his nose as blood sprayed onto his face.
God, Evan thought bitterly, the ridges of the scars under his fingertips. Am I just kidding myself here?
He dropped his hand and glared at his reflection.
Christ, man, what are you doing? Living here? Working here? Letting these people, letting Hannah trust you? You know what you are.
So does she, a soft inner voice chimed in.
Evan shook his head and turned away from the mirror, dropping down onto the small, single bed. He grimaced when he realised that he’d landed on the blue journal. He shifted and grabbed the book.
He turned on the bedside lamp and after a moment of hesitation, opened the journal.
The first page had the title: The Stories of the Rees Family, with an inscription below.
The stories about to be told are made up of several things: happiness, sorrow, a touch of a fairy tale, a good dose of the mundane and, of course, love.
All of it is True.
Evan leafed through the first few pages, learning that the Reeses had lived in the area for years. Always in the same place, always managing the local freehouse, pub, watering hole, or whatever it was called at that particular time and place.
As he got towards the middle of the book, the name 'Collen' jumped out at him. Remembering Mr. Taylor's advice, Evan adjusted the pillow behind his head and began to read.
Collen’s Story
Once upon a time there was a man named Collen who lived in a small town in the mountains of Snowdonia. His family had lived in the village of Cwm Alaw for several generations and he was highly content to be the latest owner of the Sheep and Crow, the local pub.
“It was once a tavern for the Romans,” his grandfather told him once. “But, before that, do you know who used to come here? To this very spot?”
Collen had looked up into dark brown eyes so similar to his own. “Who, Taid?”
The old man leaned close. “The fae.”
“Why?” Collen asked. The old man smiled, his corner of his eyes crinkling.
“Who knows? To dance? To settle disagreements? To have a simple drink?” He shrugged. “Who knows why the fae do what they do?”
“Do they still come?” Collen asked.
“Of course they do!” his grandfather said. He nodded towards a lady at the bar. “There’s Mr. and Mrs. Plotkin now. She’s a quarter dryad and rumour has it, his grandmother could turn into a sparrow.”
“Wow,” the little boy said. He frowned. “What do we do?”
“We? You mean the Reeses?” his grandfather asked. He grinned. “We keep the drink flowing, my boy. And there’s nothing more magical than that.”
Being the son of the owner of the pub, Collen knew the names of most of the villagers by the time he was seven. He was a quiet lad, content to watch the world go by. School was a necessary chore, but not terrible one. Collen took to maths and was helping his folks with the accounts by the time he was fifteen. Sixteen rolled around and as his dad was beginning to slow down, Collen took over the running of the pub.
There was the occasional girlfriend, but in a small village, it’s hard to find someone that a) you didn’t already know all of their secrets and b) who didn’t already know all of yours. By the time he was twenty-three, he had more or less given up on the prospect of finding someone.
So, even though most of his friends had married and had someone to go home to in the evenings, he was still single and happy to be so. He had his pub, he had his friends, and he had no regrets.
Then he found her.
The small bend in the river not ten miles from town was Collen’s favorite spot to fish. It was quiet and the water was clear and cool, but best of all? The fish practically jumped into his bucket.
It was a Thursday morning and he was sitting on the flat rock that he always used, while his friend Stev, was just a little ways upstream.
Stev was the local fishmonger and Thursday was his day off. Collen and he had been fishing together since they were boys. While most of village had some idea that Stev was different, only Collen and a few others knew just how different.
“You mind if I, ah, let out my feathers?” Stev asked as the sun was just beginning to reach the top of the mountain behind them.
“Not at all,” Collen said. “Just leave a few for me, if you don’t mind.”
“Cheers, mate.”
Collen politely looked away and reeled his line back in, giving Stev some privacy. He heard the other man take off his shirt and there was a slight crunching sound and then a sigh of relief. Collen turned back just in time to see Stev dive into the water, slick, black feathers now covering his upper body.
The part man - part water bird sliced through the water quickly. He emerged only to dive back down with a funny ducking of his head.
Now, it was never exactly certain how Stev came to be as he was. But, when he was ten and discovered that he could catch fish with remarkable accuracy and get paid for his troubles, any bad feelings he might have had towards his dual species status disappeared.
The only argument he ever had over his nature was a long-standing one with his wife, Grace.
“I’m an anhinga!”
“No, you’re not! You live in Wales, anhingas live in warmer climates. You’re a cormorant.”
“Woman, don’t you think I know what I am?”
“I think your feathers are in a twist and you just think anhinga sounds nicer than cormorant.”
Collen watched as his friend popped back up with a large wild brown trout in his hands. Stev grinned and tossed the fish in Collen’s direction.
“For you! On the house!” Stev dove back under and Collen chuckled as he put the wriggling fish into his bucket. Collen picked up his fishing tackle and moved further downstream, to give Stev some room.
He rounded the bend to where the old hazel tree grew, its branches heavy with the weight of the hazelnuts just about ready to fall. As he walked towards a spot of sunlight on the river bank, he noticed something on the opposite side. Something was caught in the old roots of the old tree. It bobbed gently in the current. Collen peered and tried to see what it was.
He squinted and then in realization of what he was looking at he gave a yell. “Stev! Get over here!”
Collen quickly waded into the river and over to the other side, the cold water stinging his skin and filling his shoes. Absently, he heard Stev swimming towards him.
“Is that a woman?” Stev asked when he got close, swiping his black hair back over his scalp.
Collen didn’t answer, instead he gently pulled at her body to loosen it from the roots. He lifted her upper body out of the water. Gingerly, he leaned down and held his ear to her mouth. The faintest of air breathed out of her mouth and tickled his ear.
“She’s alive,” he said. “Let’s get her to the other side. Hurry.”
Stev joined him and together, they carefully lifted her out of the water and carried her to the river bank. They laid her down and Collen looked at her. Her skin was as pale as her hair was dark. She wore a simple shift of black made from an odd, slippery material.
“Who is she?” Stev asked.
“Don’t know,” was the soft answer. “Get a blanket, she’s shivering.” Stev gave his friend a worried look, but Collen was focused on the woman that lay before him.
Who are you? Collen thought as he took her hand and enfolded it in his own. He rubbed gently at her pulse and her eyelids fluttered. A plaintive sound emerged from her mouth and she shivered and turned her head towards the river.
“It’s okay,” Collen murmured. “Easy, easy.”
The woman’s eyes opened slowly and she turned to look up at him. Collen’s breath caught in his throat as the darkest eyes he’d ever seen looked into his own. She looked upon with a daze that soon became panicked. She sucked in a breath and then started to cough, her face contorting as she tried to breathe. She turned over and faced the ground as she coughed.
“That’s it. Nice and slow. Easy there. One breath at a time. That does it.” Collen hardly knew what he was saying as he kept his voice pitched low and reassuring, his hand rubbing a circle on her back.
The coughing ceased and she looked over her shoulder at him. Her lips parted and her eyes looked haunted and fearful. But Collen simply smiled.
“Hi,” he said softly. “My name’s Collen. What’s yours?”
She called herself Meriel but couldn’t (or didn’t know) remember her surname. Her voice was throaty and she smelled of the sea breeze, salty and crisp. She went back with Collen and Stev to the village. When asked if she wanted to see the doctor or the police, she shook her head.
“I think I’m where I’m supposed to be,” she said, glancing shyly at Collen. For the first time in a long time, Collen felt his face heat up.
His mother objected, of course, but Collen took Meriel back to his small one-storey house on the edge of the village complete with a small garden in the back and a wood just behind that turned into the forest surrounding the village. He and a few friends had built the house only a year ago.
“Sometimes it’s just nice to be away from the village,” he told her as she trailed her fingertips over the top of the kitchen table, her feet and legs still bare, but her upper half wrapped up in his old anorak. Collen fidgeted and was unsure where to put his hands. She took the decision away from him when she walked to stand in front of him and took his hands in hers.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said. “But, I don’t know how long I can stay.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” he said honestly. A slow smile spread across her face and once again, Collen felt his breath stolen away from his lungs.
As the days went past, it was soon discovered that Meriel had a gift for cooking. Put a set of ingredients in front of her and she could create anything. She would make something that would sit simmering in a pot all day, and it would be ready when Collen came home from the pub late at night.
She liked to watch him eat and smiled and asked questions about his evening and the villagers. He encouraged her to go out during the day, meet people. Meriel would shake her head a little and look out the window into the dark night and simply say, “Maybe. Maybe I will.”
The next day, she surprised him by showing up at the pub right as it started to get busy. He smiled so brightly, everyone fell silent and looked amazed at the normally taciturn man eagerly showed this lady around. She smiled back and while she hardly said a word, villagers were left with the impression that they had been in the presence of something not of this world.
But, the village of Cwm Alaw was used to otherworldly, so the sensation only lasted a few moments and soon it was as though she had always been there.
After that, she was often seen walking into town and going to the shops. She had tea on occasion with some of the other ladies, but seemed to prefer to spend her time at Collen’s house, tending the garden or cooking or in the pub, watching him work. Meriel was always friendly, but sometimes an odd look would come over her face, as though she had smelled something and it caused her pain. She’d look in the direction of the sea and close her eyes.
A month to the day Collen found her trapped in the roots, he came home to find a note asking him to meet Meriel at the old quarry. He frowned and quickly darted through the back door, through the wood to the quarry that lay on the far side of town. Autumn had clung to the mountains as long as it was able, but the chill of winter was encroaching and Collen’s breath could be seen as he rushed through the woods.
He stumbled to a halt at the edge of the round pool and looked around for Meriel. The moonlight reflected off the still, black water and the breeze ruffled the trees behind him.
“Meriel?” he called quietly.
“Over here.” He looked in the direction of her voice and sucked in a breath. She stood above the pool on a small ledge of slate. She wore nothing but a thin white slip and her dark, curling hair was wild around her shoulders. Collen met her eyes and she smiled.
Then she dove cleanly into the pool.
Collen let out a yell and splashed into the water. He stopped when the water was up to his waist and called her name. Once. Twice. Three times. As he opened his mouth to call her name a fourth time, she emerged from the water laughing and gasping.
“What are you doing you mad woman?” he asked, his face torn between exasperation and fear.
“I’m swimming,” she said. She swam right up to him. Then she stood before him, drenched and shivering. Shyly, she looked up into his eyes, then raised herself up on her tiptoes and gently kissed his lips.
“You’re so warm,” she whispered. Something in him broke and Collen placed his hands on her hips and he roughly pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. She wound herself around him and kissed him back just as feverishly.
“May I... Can I...?” he asked kissing the column of her neck and her shoulder.
“Yes, yes, oh, yes,” Meriel murmured. Collen swept her up out of the water and stumbled to dry land.
They made love, right there at the base of an old oak tree, next to the old quarry; the moon shining high in the sky and the water still and black, with the breeze at their backs.
After that, Meriel shared Collen’s bed, always pulling his arms tight around her, seeking out his warmth. Collen found himself racing through the day and his night at the pub, to get home to her and their bed. In fact, he let his brother, Bryn, take on a few shifts so that Collen could spend the entire evening in Meriel’s arms.
It wasn’t a surprise when a month later Meriel discovered she was pregnant.
Collen immediately started to construct an extension to his small house and choosing names. One night, as they lay in bed, his large hand on her stomach, he asked her to marry him.
“Don’t ask me that,” she said sadly.
“Why not?” he asked. “You live with me. That’s my child you’re carrying. Do you not love me?”
Meriel shifted in bed so that she faced him. She held hid hand in both of hers. Her voice was strong and steady as she said, “I love you. I will always love you. I will live with you. I will share your home and your bed. I will bear your child. But, I will not be bound to you. Not by any word of man’s. I cannot. Please, Collen. Don’t ask it of me.”
Collen studied her face and nodded once. Then kissing her deeply, they fell into each other’s arms.
While Collen was ecstatic about the coming baby, Meriel seemed to sink further and further into a depression that she could not be drawn from. Watching the starlings as they swirled around the treetops at dusk no longer made her smile. The only time she entered the kitchen was to drink a tall glass of milk, her former enthusiasm for cooking had faded.
Collen was worried.
"She'll be fine, Coll," Grace said when Stev and she came for a visit. "Just give her some time. People react differently to pregnancy. Once the baby comes, it'll be different. You just wait and see."
Sadly, Grace was right.
Meriel went into labor on a moonless Friday night. It was painful and tears fell from her eyes and her face screwed up into a grimace while she tried to push the child from her body.
Collen was allowed to stay with her only after he threatened Dr. Carson, Sr. with violence. Collen held Meriel's hand and while she screamed and cried, he stayed calm and pressed his lips to her temple.
At 3:33 in the morning on Sunday, Gwendi Marie Rees entered the world.
Meriel fell back onto the bed and closed her eyes, breathing hard and her hand fell away from Collen's. He barely noticed as the doctor put his daughter into his arms. The little person in his arms looked up at him and Collen fell in love.
"Hello, Gwendi," he said. "I'm your dad."
He looked over at Meriel, but she had slipped into a deep sleep.
"It's natural, Collen," Dr. Carson said. "Let her rest. That was a heck of battle she went through."
When Meriel woke up and was handed her daughter, her lips trembled and she pressed a kiss to the little girl's forehead and murmured something that Collen couldn't quite make out.
The little family went home four days later and all appeared to be well.
But, Collen began to notice strange things about Meriel. She was becoming distracted. She'd leave a pot boiling on the stove while she stared out the window. She'd sleep for a few hours and then get up and wander the house restlessly, looking in drawers and cupboards as though she were looking for something. One day he came home to find her soaking in the bathtub holding a container of salt watching as the granules poured into the water.
He tried to talk to her. He tried pleading with her. What could he do?
He always got the same answer:
"Oh Collen, there's nothing you can do."
After that, Collen took over the caring of their daughter. Gwendi was a quiet yet responsive baby, especially when her dad was close by. She always ate on time and by the time she was four weeks old, she would sleep for six hours straight in the night. Meriel and she never had the same bond that Gwendi had with her father. It was evident in the way Meriel held her and the frown that would cross Gwendi's tiny features.
Collen felt that it was all leading up to something. Something that made his heart hurt and his gut twist painfully.
Then one day, he woke up and Meriel was gone.
He searched the house and the garden, but she was gone. Her shoes were by the door and she had left her coat. Collen grabbed Gwendi from her crib, causing the baby to cry fitfully at being woken up. He drove her to his brother's house and told Bryn to watch her while he looked for Meriel.
Collen drove throughout the town with no luck.
Suddenly, a thought struck him and he abruptly turned his car around in the direction of the river. He arrived at his fishing spot and ran through the branches to where he had first found Meriel.
Collen stopped at the edge of the river when he saw her. She was standing in the deepest section of the river, wearing the black shift he'd found her in.
"Meriel," he said, his voice breaking.
She wouldn't look at him and only said, "I told you I wasn't sure how long I could stay."
"Meriel, please," Collen pleaded.
"Love our daughter," she said. "But never let her see the sea. Never."
She finally turned her head to look at him. Her irises were large and brown as she said, "Thank you for saving me."
Then she dove into the water. Collen shouted and splashed into the river, but she was gone.
He never saw her again.
Evan put the journal face down on his chest and cocked his head listening to the sounds of the building. He heard the locking of the store room and the jingling of keys that heralded Hannah leaving for the night. Evan checked his watch. One o’clock. She wouldn’t be back until tomorrow at lunchtime. He fought the urge to go downstairs and make her sit down and tell him the stories he was reading. Have the ‘truth’ come out of her mouth, have her lips frame the words and tell him everything.
He heard the closing of the heavy oak door and the throwing of the lock. Evan sighed and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.
After he let his hands fall to his chest and he blinked away the stars, he picked up the journal and started to read once more.
Part Two
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Date: 2010-11-23 04:53 pm (UTC)So excited omg.
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Date: 2010-11-23 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-24 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-24 08:51 am (UTC)And seriously? This bit was going to be a one-shot, maybe 1000 or so words. It's now become a proper three-parter and is already over 7,000 words. Ack.
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Date: 2010-11-23 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 07:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-24 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-24 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-24 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-24 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-25 03:07 pm (UTC)Totally awesome socks.
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Date: 2010-11-25 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-27 01:32 am (UTC)