The Everlark Family: Book 1

2 - A Start

The blinding morning light had crept its way into the window above my bed. As my eyes fluttered open I realized that Peeta was not laying beside me, and the only telltale sign of him was the delicious smell of bacon wafting through the house. 
Once I had forced myself out of bed and gotten ready to start the day of trudging through the meadow, I met Peeta in the kitchen, or should I say, in his natural habitat. 

"Hey, good morning." He kissed me lightly on the cheek, his mouth full of whatever he was eating.
"Good morning." I replied with a pleasant smile on my face as I watched Peeta hand me a plate of bacon and fruit. "Thank God I have you."
"Because without me, you wouldn't have a personal chef?"
I threw a couple blueberries in my mouth and nodded, "Yeah. I would starve."
Peeta laughed and rubbed his hands together, "You know cooking isn't that difficult."
"I wish I could say the same."
"Well," he chuckled, "finish your breakfast and then we'll head out to our destination and start building."

Peeta brought his sketchbook full of all his architectural designs, wood frames, tiles, and that pink fluffy stuff you put in between walls. I helped to carry the big bucket of nails, bolts, and screws. The typical needs. All we needed now was to start walking to the meadow, and boy, we did. As tiring as it was.

"Alright, we're here!" Peeta announced. He let the wood shanks fall to the ground in a loud crash and let out an exasperated sigh. "Whew. One thing's for sure: my back was really feeling that."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took a firm stance, shielding the light from my eyes with a hand. "I have to admit, Peeta, the walk was worth it. . . this place is breathtaking."
Peeta nodded, a strong look of accomplishment on his sweaty face. "I knew you'd like it. Just imagine hunting for food out here, I can paint amazing pictures. No cameras, no people. Just me, you, and nature."
"Oh, God, you know I like the sound of that."
He took a deep breath and I did too. There was something different about this part of the meadow; the air was more crisp and clean.

"Okay," Peeta broke the silence and stooped down to rummage through the clutter of his supplies he brought with him. He pulled out his sketchpad from underneath an unorganized pile of wood. "Here it is. Okay, picture this big house right here where we're standing."
I walked over to meet him and stared intensely at the drawing. I could imagine it somewhat; of course my imagination was dry and dull in comparison to Peeta's colorful mind. 
"Can you see it?" He asked me curiously. 
"Yeah. It's going to look amazing."
There was an interior model of the house that was neatly drawn out on a separate piece of paper. Two bedrooms, one nicely-sized living room, two bathrooms. . . Wait a second. 

"Two bedrooms. . . We don't need two, do we?"
Peeta met my eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes of his looked strangely bluer than they normally did. "Well--uh, its for the kids."
I clenched my jaw in the discomfort of the thought. 
"You do want children, right? I mean eventually, of course."
I remained sadly undecided, "Someday." 
"Right." Peeta cleared his throat, then continued to push the idea, "You know, Katniss, it has been a long time, a really long time actually and I have always wanted a family."
I could read those vibrant eyes--I  knew they were longing for something, like a daughter.
"I know Peeta, someday. I promise." It was a semi-promise.  

We worked all day on that house. It was hardly much that we had gotten done, but it was a start. And of course, a start is better than nothing. 
And when it grew dark, we packed up and trudged back home. The paparazzi bombarded us again, like they always had, like they always would. Which was a great example of why children were not in my immediate thoughts, because truthfully, being in the limelight with kids to stress about put a bad taste in my mouth.  No child should ever deserve to be followed around by cameras for their entire life because their parents became famous for killing people. It just wasn't right.