Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Fifty-Two | Hester House, June 2017

Chapter Fifty-One

Hester House, June 2017

Ella Bowen was the spitting image of her grandmother. From the time she was very little, people would always exclaim: "oh, she looks just like Hazel!". This always made her Papa look uncomfortable.

From pictures, Ella knew that her face was the same, her hair was just as curly, her frame similar - she was tall, where Hazel had been tiny. Unlike Hester, who looked like their Greek grandmother that had left when Amara was a baby; she had lovely long dark hair, their father's blue. Sometimes people didn't believe they were sisters.

Ella had seen photographs of her grandmother from when she was a young girl to thirty-eight years old - up to the very day she died, the evening of her Aunt's wedding. Ella had memorized what her grandmother had worn, how she styled her hair and smiled in the mandatory wedding photos, and the snapshots of when she wasn't looking. She looked far away, lost in her daughter's happiness. Hazel Bowen had been beautiful, and Ella aspired to be as much like her as possible.

Having always been interested in Hazel, Ella always wanted to hear the stories over and over again, look at the albums frequently. Her father did not understand this.

Hester, Robin and Maeve did not think about the grandmother that had given her life before any of them were born.

"What're you doing?" Hester had entered their shared bedroom, arms crossed. Her cinnamon curls were in a long, heavy plait down her back. She was twelve years old, three years younger than Ella and a stereotypical Ravenclaw.

"What do you think?" Ella swished the long, dusty rose dress around her legs.

"It's pretty." Hester sat on her bed, picking up a book. "Where you looking at that old photo album again?"

"A little." Ella put the book gently on her desk; it was old, fragile.

Hester sniffed. "Why are you so obsessed with her, Elle?"

"Who?" asked Ella, pretending not to know.

"Grandma Hazel!" Hester said. "She's dead, long gone."

"Have some respect!" Ella said haughtily, giving the album a pat. "She's a hero."

"Was a hero," said Hester. "Move on, Papa has."

Ella jumped up. "He has not!" she cried. "He...sometimes he can't even look at me, Hessie."

Outside his elder daughter's bedroom door, Andrew stopped. He put the two cups of lemonade outside the door, walking off quietly.

So Ella had noticed. Over the years, he had convinced himself that she wasn't aware, couldn't see - how when he looked at her, all he saw was the woman who raised him. Hazel shone from her features so clearly; it ached to look at her sometimes.

Sitting at his desk, Andrew pushed the star maps away. He felt like a horrible father. His own daughter - his first born - had seen his weakness. Sometimes though, Andrew just missed his mother.

After a while, he sighed and got back to work. When the kids had gotten a little older, Maeve had been almost five, he had begun working from home again. Soon he was lost in the stars.

He barely heard the door open. "Papa?" Ella called, knocking softly.

"What's up honey?" asked Andrew, not looking up from his star charts.

"Look what I found."

Looking up, Andrew dropped his quill in surprise. His already pale features went waxy. "Where...where did you find that?"

Ella picked at the lacey sleeves of the dress. "The attic."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh. I thought you'd gone in." He referenced the locked door, with faded crayon marks the twins had made as children that Hazel couldn't bear to clean off.

"You don't have to keep it locked, Pa."

Andrew stared at his star charts. "Robin or Maeve don't have the same sense you do, honey. Hester doesn't care."

"Do you like the dress, Pa?" she asked hesitantly.

"You look very nice." Andrew took off the glasses he had taken to wearing while working and rubbed his eyes. "You look just like her."

Ella pretended not to know. "Who?"

"My mother." He said, gaze drifting o a place his older children now understood - he was remembering the war. "My own Mamma, Hazel. You look so much like her, almost a spitting image. It...it's very hard for me, for your aunt, sometimes."

"I can't help it."

"Oh honey, I know. Its not your fault, you look like me, I look like her...Sonia looks like our father, you know, but with our mother's beauty. Somehow that worked out. Luckily we didn't inherit his nose." He chuckled. "Sorry Elle, didn't mean to ramble."

Ella chook her head. "I like to hear about it Pa. Sometimes it feels like you and Aunt Sonia just came out of nowhere."

"I know we don't talk about our past much, before the...the war." He stared at his hands. "We don't mean to shut you out."

"Aunt Sonia did though." Ella pried. "She left, that's the ultimate shutting out - Max said he doesn't even know why. He barely talks about her."

Andrew stood up, guarded once more. "Don't bother your cousin about that, Ella."

"I don't!" she defended.

"I have work to do," he said firmly, then faltered. "Go...go help your mother."

"But -"

"Now, Ella." He insisted. "And - and put that dress back in the attic."

He closed the door, leaving Ella in the hall. Tears prickled her dark eyes, but she refused to cry. It was not her fault; none of this was her fault. Something had happened to her Pa as a kid, that made it hard - it wasn't her fault.

A/N: Oohh...this is the start of many chapter starring Ella Nevine Bowen! I really like her and have had bits and pieces written about her for AGES, and I'm super excited for you all to get to know her more! There will be more Hester, Robin and Maeve as well. They were too little really before to write much.

Question: Will Andrew ever open up to his children about his past? What would you like to see next with the Bowen children, or the rest of them?

Rose