Our Mother the Mountain

34. Harmonics

Ethan only had several minutes in the morning to be disappointed that Karl wasn't beside him, and then a flurry of activity overshadowed the emotion. Breakfast was chaos, getting the girls dressed to go outside in the cold was more chaos, and juggling everyone's plans and chatter was even more chaos.

They were going to plan some party, or event, weren't they? He caught onto this thanks to broken snippets of conversation between Maricara to Eva and Donna, Eva and Donna to Zoe and his mother, while he stared desperately at Moreau and Jochen–and then the cycle of who was talking about what would start all over again.

Coffee did nothing to help Ethan keep up.

So he was relieved when Moreau offered to take the children down to the barn to let the animals out for the day, and the rest of the group followed, eager to walk the property and enjoy what little nice weather remained. Snow-real snow-would come soon, Moreau warned. It would halt everything from the girls' daily walks, to easy movement through the valley without plows. The construction too would halt. Even now they were finishing up projects in preparation for overwintering.

"Pretty sure that was the setup in the Shining," Ethan muttered to himself over his third cup of coffee. He still had no idea where Karl went so early in the morning, and it seemed the engineer kept no real pattern of movement anyway. Ethan didn't have the energy to seek him out immediately, so he stared out the back window toward the linden tree.

"Ethan," his mother's voice startled him. "I wanted to give you something." He placed his cup on the island and turned toward her anxiously. Dorothy's smile was apologetic, and she put a hand on his bicep. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah," he exhaled. "Yes. Maybe too much coffee."

"And too many plans being made around you," she chuckled knowingly. He nodded, relieved. She really did understand him, he realized, and he was grateful.

"My advice? Let them handle it. Let them enjoy it. Just sit back and let it happen. I know it feels like a hurricane is happening around you. But you can be in the eye of the hurricane and it'll be okay. That is the nature of the beast in winter. Happens every year. Doesn't matter what religion, or what region, or who is there. It's just part of the season, a mad dash to...."

"Build a nest?"

They laughed together. Ethan's was a wry chuckle, but hers was genuine and light. It reminded him of the way Eva laughed-it wasn't polite, or metered. It was authentic.

Dorothy turned toward the item she'd brought, which sat on the island next to Ethan's coffee. Before Ethan even looked at it, he gripped her arm. "Mom."

She turned back to him and stared expectantly, noting the gravity in his singular word.

"I don't know how much you know about this....I don't know what Zoe told you. But I..." dammit, his hand was trembling ALREADY. He forced himself to let go of her arm. "I'm..."

She understood. Dorothy picked up his hands again and nearly crushed them with her grip. "We talked. I read all I need to know. Ethan, you're...."

A monster? Dead? Moldy? A freak. A science experiment.

"My son. Rose is my granddaughter. If you adopt Evie-she told me all about this while you were gone-then I get a bonus granddaughter, and that's what I told her too. Everyone said you were dead," she added in a lower tone, which carried an appalled note. "I knew I'd give anything to see you one more time. I'm just thankful I have the chance. Not everyone gets one."

There was a very long silence, during which Ethan tried to muster up a joke about not wanting to cry. Before he could quite formulate the words, she'd turned back to the items.