Fabula Obscrua

Known this all along - 1 - RSD

Known this all along 

Part 1: Just another regret

The garden was bright with flowers, birds and all the signs of early summer. The children played, the warmth a welcome relief after the winter that had seemed to never end. They bounced, bounded, screamed, laughed and ran. Yet as Elloreah watched them, contentment she should feel surveying such a scene would never come.

She'd come from the hospital not two hours before to relieve the mothers of the wild bunch she found herself now in the lone company of. Though their grandmother was ill and growing more still, they played the day away. Grief had no place in children's games. She knew it to be true; she didn't wish the pain she felt on them. But in this place, their grandmother's own garden, she couldn't help but grieve. 

These were her flowers, her vegetables and herbs. Who would tend them when the woman passed on? Who would keep the weeds at bay and water the ground when the sun beat down?

She'd known the woman in her youth, before the parents of these children had been born. She'd watched as Sarah had aged over the years, growing frail and ill. And yet, here she was, more than forty years later and looked not a day over twenty-five. All the escapism in the world couldn't keep that stark fact from following her, weighing on her.

“Ellie, Ellie! Come play with us!” the youngest girl called.

Elloreah raised her head, wiping away a tear that moistened her cheek. “What are you playing?”

“Trampoline!” another voice exclaimed. There were many toys, swings, bars and other contraptions in the expanse of the old yard. The trampoline was a favorite today. Elloreah stood to the side watching and smiling as they took turns bounding up and down.

“I'm too old. Too big,” she corrected. “I'd hate to break your toy.”

The youngest laughed and took her hand. “Then come, and play with me instead.” Lead off by the tiny, blonde girl, she smiled in relief. Liza found an old, green watering can. “We'll tend the garden,” she explained. “Since Nana is away.”

“That's the best idea I've heard all day,” Elloreah replied, letting the girl guide her. They watered the plants, little Liza knew them well. They found a basket in the shed, filling it with ripe tomatoes, squash and cucumbers, taking their bounty into the kitchen.

As they sorted the vegetables, Elloreah could feel a presence in the house. The children were outside, safe enough with the oldest of them watching out for the younger. A clearing of a throat signaled the newcomer's arrival. Elloreah turned, and sucked in a breath despite herself.

It had been too long since she'd seen him last. She should have expected him, after all, he'd known Sarah long before she had. Still, she couldn't help but feel humbled by the hint of the power that glowed in those gold eyes of his. He was lanky with red-brown skin, his hair, normally worn long was cut short and she wondered what loss he'd recently endured.  

“Annalise said you might need some help,” he said. Liza squealed in excitement and ran to him, bouncing as she took his hand.

“Mingan! Mingan! See all the veggies we picked?” she exclaimed.

He patted the girl on the head, murmuring responses to her excited chatter. Elloreah had backed against the far counter, leaning against it, arms crossed over her chest. It was strange to see him like this, in this place.

He'd slip in and out of her life as often she allowed, though usually her patience was thin. This time, the anger and resentment in her had dulled. It was no longer the throbbing, insistent undercurrent it had once been. She could no longer blame him. Time had brought clarity and understanding. Sobriety had helped as well.