Tea, Whiskey and Fragments
Fiona set about the task of laying out tea for the three of them. Her movements were still as graceful as ever, but the life was missing from them, they appeared mechanical and detached. Roary and Lin arrived at the cottage and thumped in, dumping packs and sighing heavily into the leaden atmosphere. Lin escaped into the sleeping chamber she shared with her mom. Roary paced the floor, finally settling on starting a fire though the chill was not so bad as to actually need one. As he laid the fire he found himself drawing deeply on the scent of peat and bog. He lost himself in reverie, not even noticing that the clanking of dishes had ended behind him until Fiona's hand came down gently on his shoulder. She gave him a quick, tight squeeze and moved on. Breathing deep, he brought himself back to the present and lit the fire. He turned to the table and was gratified to see that Fiona had added the bottle of Tullamore Dew to the spread. Apparently she had gotten to know him a bit more than he should be comfortable with. Nevertheless, he poured a bit into his teacup and let it slide down his throat. Just enough of the clear warmth to taste the oak and fire on his lips and to spread its welcome through his belly. What an unbelieveable day. Looking up he saw Lin enter the room. She had changed, putting on a thick sweater that curved up to warm her neck and almost tickle her ears with the size of its rolled collar. The deep cherry red of the sweater seemed like a defiant spark of cheer given all that she faced. She crossed to the table. For a moment Roary though she might be moving to speak with him, but then she veered directly to the bottle and her cup. She poured a small amount of the still steeping tea into the cup, a bit of milk and a good pour of whiskey, added a touch of sugar, and then, without even a glance at Roary, walked away to stand at the window and sip her concoction.
Fiona eventually broke the silence with the announcment that tea was ready and drew them both to the table. She sliced the bread and handed out plates laden with cheese, smoked salmon, tomatoes and hunks of brown bread. "Pour your own tea," she said, "Or have a bit of tea with your whiskey as that seems more like what you are both drawn to this afternoon. Please try to keep in mind that we have a need to have clear heads though."
Lin and Roary both reduced the amount of the pour they would likely have measured into their cups had Fiona not been quite so pointed in her remarks when they made their tea. Lin pecked at her food and sipped her tea. Fiona ate with deliberate precision, as if every bite somehow provided her a special element in a recipe that only she knew the benefits of. Roary simply pushed the food in, not really noticing what he was eating, though he was taking note that Lin was not eating. He carved off a slice of brown bread and layered it with cheese, salmon and tomato then leaned over to put the neat stack at Lin's lips. "Ye have to eat," he said, brandishing the open-faced sandwich back and forth in a slow swipe in front of her mouth.
"I am eating and you are annoying," replied Lin.
"No, actually, you are not eating," stated Fiona. "You are moving the food from one side of the plate to the other. That is not eating, it is just redecorating the plate."
"Och, there now, ye see, even ye'r own ma thinks ye should be takin a bite," said Roary.
Lin looked up at him. He was smiling, though it did not get all the way to his eyes. She looked at Fiona. Fiona was trying to make the laughter work too. "Oh, what the hell," she said, and took a large bite, deliberately scraping his knuckles with her teeth.
Pulling his hand back quickly, Roary yelped in surprise, 'Ye should eat what ye have in front of ye if ye'r that starved. My hand is not on the menu." For some reason that put all three of them into gales of laughter. Once the tension seeped out through the laughter, the tears followed, long slow racking tears that they shared together as they had the laughter. Roary stood and moved to Fiona, wrapping a big arm around her and helping her stand. The two moved to Lin and together they wrapped her in their strength and moved as a trio to the adjoining room. "Well then," said Lin, "I guess we need to pull it together and start trying to figure out what to do." She used the back of her hand to wipe her tear-streaked face and then strode into the room. She picked up the boys' packs. "Why don't we see if either child had anything they were holding that might have lured that she-witch to them?"
She opened the packs and dumped them, with no ceremony into two fully separate piles. Sean's was what you would expect. An odd assortment of stones and shells, a weapon he was working on that was not quite finished made of driftwood and leather and of course the book that had fallen out earlier and his phone and MP3 player. Ian's held what she would have expected. His art supplies, a small sketch book and a notebook each stuffed with clippings and shreds of paper or items collected from the places they had been, his digital camera, his Ipod and his Ipad. Neither of the packs held wallets or identifying information she noted, apparently her boys had never thought to carry anything of that kind with them. Perhaps there was no reason to as they were perfectly safe traveling with us she thought. She felt the strangle-hold of emotion grip her then, the strong hand tightening on her throat, squeezing out the air and forcing the tears to her eyes. "No, they had not been safe with her, perhaps there really weren't any safe places anymore. Certainly no safe places if the world could turn inside out and your children could be so stripped of identity as to become something so far from human that they could lose that part of themselves, perhaps forever," she thought. She felt her mom's hand stroking her shoulder, and brought herself back from the brink. It wasn't going to do any one, especially her boys, any good for her to wallow in pity at the moment.
"Okay, so what does this stuff tell us?" she asked.
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