Snapshots of a life, lived

Evermore

Autumn had nightmares. Winter was used to it after all this time. She had only ever woken up screaming once, right after the miscarriage; it was more likely that she would gasp awake and sit up suddenly, which would usually jar Winter awake as well. He'd hold her until the shaking stopped, and she'd tell him about the nightmare. They'd go back to sleep. She would be better in the morning.

That was how it usually went.

A death grip on Winter's hand stirred him awake. "My love?" he murmured sleepily, readjusting his grip so he could roll over to look at her. He found himself looking at the back of her head, and sat up to see her face. She was awake, expression completely blank, eyes fixed on the wall without seeing it.

These were the nightmares Winter hated, because he hadn't been able to figure out yet how to help her. She was completely despondent; she'd let Winter move around her and nudge her along, but she never did anything on her own. She never drank the tea he made. She never talked about whatever had driven her to wake up in this state. Her hand seeking out Winter's was the only way he ever knew this happened.

It always broke his heart to see that dead stare in her gaze. What did she see in her dreams that left her in such a state? What killed the life in her eyes?

"Let's sit up, my love. Come on..."

As usual, she offered no fight as Winter helped her sit up and sit on the edge of the bed. He tugged the blanket up to put it over her shoulders, then brushed his hand against her swollen stomach. The baby stirred sluggishly under his touch, giving one lazy kick to let their papa know they were okay. Autumn didn't move to touch her stomach like she usually would. She didn't reach for her glasses. She didn't do anything she would normally do after waking up. She sat, and she let Winter move around like a doll.

It never lasted long. Usually it was twenty minutes at most before she started blinking, started moving on her own and responding. She never talked about her dreams, but she would quietly assure Winter that she was okay and drink her tea. And then they would go back to bed. It was a pattern they knew well.

Twenty minutes passed. Half an hour. "My love?" Winter prompted her gently, resting a hand on her knee. Her tea was sitting on her bedside table, steam curling off the surface of the liquid. She hadn't touched it yet. She didn't react when Winter touched her. She still hadn't even touched her stomach, something that had become a constant habit as she rapidly approached her ninth month. "Autumn? Say something, please."

She didn't say anything. Winter decided to give her a little more time and grabbed his book to start reading to her. Caddie had wandered in at some point and jumped up to first try and get comfortable in Autumn's lap, then moving to her side when he realized there was no room for him.

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all..."

He read a few of Autumn's favorite poems, watching her between lines and looking for any reaction. Still nothing. It had been nearly forty minutes now. Why wasn't she saying anything? Why wasn't she moving?

"Autumn, my love." Winter squeezed her hand, trying to stay calm in the midst of his building panic. "Please, say something."

He felt her thumb twitch slightly, brushing against his skin, but there was no other reaction. It was like she was lost — lost inside her own mind, unable to find her way out. And Winter didn't know how to help her.

"I'll be right back," Winter said, standing and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you."

He grabbed his phone and stepped out into the hall, finding the right person in his contact and tapping on the name to call them.

"'Lo?" Reece mumbled thickly after nearly eight rings.

"Sorry, I know it's late," Winter said without preamble. "But Autumn is—"

"I'll be right there."

He hung up without another word. Winter looked at his phone, then back at Autumn. She still hadn't moved.

Reece arrived exactly two minutes later, letting himself in and barreling up the stairs. Winter was waiting for him in the hall.

"What's going on?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Winter admitted, looking into the bedroom. "She woke up almost an hour ago like this. It's happened before, but usually she'll start talking after awhile. She's been completely unresponsive though."

Reece looked into the room as well, then nodded. "All right."

He made his way in, hands in his pockets. Autumn didn't react even when he stood directly in front of her; he watched her for a moment before moving to sit on the floor with his back against the mattress, right next to her legs.

He remembered these nightmares. Autumn had never told him about them. He would usually make her hot chocolate and they would sit together until she fell back to sleep. That Winter could get her to talk at all was a testament to how amazing he was for Autumn. Reece wasn't even really sure why he was here. But Winter was worried, so Reece did the only thing he had ever been able to do — he sat. He gave Autumn silent support until she was ready to do something. However long that took.

Winter went downstairs to give the siblings some privacy. Autumn still didn't react. Reece didn't break the silence. He simple drew his legs up to rest his arms loosely on his knees. And he waited.

Finally...

"What if I'm like her?"

It was faint. Reece almost thought he imagined it. He didn't move to look at her or react in any visible way. "Who?"

"Mum."

He wondered what she had been dreaming about. There was no way he could ask, though. "You won't be."

"You don't know that." Autumn's voice was weak, shaky. She was so close to crying. "I'm sure she never would have imagined abandoning us when she was pregnant. She raised us for several years. But eventually she changed her mind. You don't know that I won't do the same."

Reece snorted, trying to cover a laugh. "Aut, you have never changed your mind about anything. You decided thirty-two years ago that you don't like beans and you've never even tried to budge on that. You hated me and Mia for twenty years and only changed after you were given a solid reason to believe that we actually weren't horrible. You are, without a doubt, one of the most loyal people I've ever met — loyal to others, to yourself, to your feelings. Once you decide you want something, you go for it no matter what. You're not going to leave because that's just not who you are. The only times in your life that you've ever walked away were when people gave you a reason."

Silence. Then a small sniffle. Reece still didn't look at his sister. "Why did she leave, Reece?"

"I don't know." And it would haunt them forever. "But I know you're nothing like her. And I know you're scared, but you're going to be a great mum, Autumn. You're never going to leave them because that's not who you are."

Another, slightly stronger sniffle. "Should I get Winter now?" Reece asked.

"Yes, please." The two words were barely a breath. Reece nodded and stood, making his way out without looking at Autumn. Winter was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, bouncing anxiously.

"Is she—"

"She needs you."

Winter darted up the stairs. Reece waited for a few minutes until he heard Autumn start crying audibly. Then he let himself out, locking the door behind him.

Marjorie was waiting awake when Reece returned. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Don't bring this up tomorrow, all right? She's not going to want to talk about it."

Reece watched as Marjorie turned the words over in her mind, trying to read between the lines. Finally she nodded. "Okay."

* * * * *

Autumn's makeup was a little heavier the next morning. She looked up when Reece walked in, said, "Big brother," and went back to her work. Marjorie looked between the siblings, her eyes finally settling on Reece. He shrugged and went to his desk. Business as usual.