Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Twenty-Four | Christmas 2004

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hester House, Christmas 2004

 

                          The twinkly lights hanging from every possible surface had two-year-old Ella entranced. Evergreens were twisted through the banisters, mistletoe in every doorway; the tree was tall, just as Hazel had always liked it.

Christmas music was turned up loudly, but her little ears could still pick up hints of the fight roaring in the kitchen. It was mostly her Mamma shouting.

Her Papa had come home from his last day at work elated, happy to be home for the holidays at last. His sister would be coming for Christmas supper, as was every other Weasley offspring, in-law and grandchild.

Amara had been sitting in the living room, watching Ella play with a set of blocks and admire the baubles on the tree.

“Hey,” he’d said. “Good day?”

Amara turned her cheek away from his kiss. “Uneventful.”

“Oh.” Andrew kneeled down and picked Ella up. “Has she had a bath yet?”

“No.” Amara snapped, getting up swiftly and heading into the kitchen.

Ella tugged on her fathers collar. “I don’t know Ella-belle.” He said quizzically. “We’ll have a bath in a second, okay? I’m going to check on Mamma.”

Following Amara into the kitchen, he turned the carols up and shut the door behind him on Ella playing. “Are you okay honey?”

Amara pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and sighed, leaning against the counter. “I’m trying really hard to be happy, Drew.”

“You’ve been doing really well, Amara.” He went over and brushed a stray curl back from her neck and rubbed her back, something he knew soothed her.

“I don’t want to go back to that place, the dark one where I was.” she said, voice choked. “I can’t, I don’t want to do that to Ella ever again.”

“We’ll make it through Amara, we can do it – look how happy we’ve been for the past nine months, a year even! You’ve tried so hard.” He tugged her close, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Oh Drew…” she wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m pregnant.”

Andrew jerked back, staring at her. “You are?”

She nodded, eyes on the ground. “Eight weeks, didn’t even notice. The medication…it makes my mind so foggy sometimes, I couldn’t even remember whether I’d had my period or not.”

Andrew hugged her tightly, but she pushed him away. “I don’t know if I can do it again, Andrew.” She wiped her eyes furiously, but it couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I wanted to live a little more,” her voice began to rise, and soon she was screaming. “Do more! Travel, work – but I’m twenty-six, a mother and pregnant. I’ll never get to set up my business, or work in the country or-or –”