Raising Isla | ENGLOT AU

Chapter 13: Where is Home?

Emery ran the palm of her hands over the creases of Isla's dress as she knelt in front of the three-year-old, neatening the furrows out from the waves of soft white. A tapestry of flowers was growing upwards from the hem flowing around the little girl's ankles, a pink frilling ribbon around her waist and secured in a bow at her side. Isla had picked it out.

The previous weekend having been lent to the pursuits of roaming the local shopping mall, Isla's clothes were shrinking - Calypso had explained, and something new and colorful for her to parade might help make the hearing seem less grim.

But Isla still looked apprehensive, distracted by the teddy in her hands as Emery finished restraining the laces of the little girl's boots.

It was quite the combination, this little outfit Isla had selected, but the contrast of the dress's elegance and the rowdiness of the leather of her shoes seemed to suit the rampant spark behind the little girl's eyes perfectly.

It was dimmed, but still present, as Isla's gaze flickered away from Pinki Pie back up to Emery, who smiled gently at her, watching as the three-year-old attempted to return the expression. Brave, but still nervous.

"It's okay to be scared, Isla. It's a big day," Emery started, her voice warm, careful. "But know that there's no need to be, everything's going to be alright. We're here to look after you, and so is Pinki Pie. Okay?"

Isla nodded, a small smile lit like an ember in her eyes before she stepped forward, letting her arms enfold tightly around Emery's shoulders. Surprise from the sincerity of it flooded Emery's heart, before she let her own arms snake around the little girl's middle, hugging her back just as tightly.

"It's going to be alright," Em repeated. Closing her eyes as she felt Isla take a few slow breaths of solace before the little girl slowly pulled away.

"Ready?" Em asked, moving to tuck the wayward ribbons of hair back into place.

Isla nodded again, accepting Emery's hand as they returned to the living room. Calypso's phone call was nearing its end as they approached, hearing the sound of her farewell to Nudee.

"Everything alright?" Emery asked, feeling Isla slip away as the three-year-old wandered towards Twig who was perched on the edge of the window cill.

"Yeah, I think so," Calypso sighed, though her chest still sounded tight. "No hiccups or road bumps in sight for now."

Em nodded. "Good."

"You ready to go, Isla?" Calypso inquired, glancing toward where the three-year-old had joined the tortoiseshell looking out over the street below lit up with sunshine, the teddy now placed on the ledge beside the cat.

"Yeah," She answered easily, before tottering back towards them.

"Is Pinki Pie coming?" She asked - a tone that Emery had learned was more a subtle reminder than a question.

"No," Isla replied, unexpected, linking her small hand through Calypso's before reaching out to seek Emery's again as well, the little girls next words making her cheeks flush and her heart soften as she took in their meaning. "Pinki pie's staying home today."

...

Emery had never been in a courtroom before. This building was as familiar to Calypso as the clinic had become to her, but that didn't stop the overly formal atmosphere feeling a tad suffocating - the white hallways monotonous. Yet the room they were directed to was more colourful than she'd expected, after pushing through the door. And almost too small to sit the entourage that joined them.

There wasn't a single one of their friends missing.

Chompu, shuffling into the left front row of the gallery benches, a notebook in her lap. Apparently this was going to be the most heartwarming story she'd ever published, her journal readers no strangers to Calypso's feats in the courtroom, they'd all been waiting for this. Emery wasn't sure Calypso particularly liked the attention. But the stories helped to bring in donations to the pro bono side of the firm so she never outwardly complained. But Isla, she had conditioned, was only to be referred to using an alias.