Leah Stone (reapinghavok) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-06-18 22:45:00 |
|
|||
In the past week and a half, Marigold had been exposed to a host of new people, some of which were her family. She’d already been introduced to her mother and her two aunts, and now it was her uncle’s turn for an introduction. In spite of what Leah had told Brandon, she still held reservations about how strong his ability would be to filter things for a four-year-old. Kids eventually caught on to the adult language and maybe Marigold had already been exposed to it in the facility, but that didn’t mean Leah couldn’t try to preserve some of the girl’s innocence. Brandon deserved the chance to meet Marigold, so that was the plan for this evening, complete with a small, possibly quiet, dinner near the construction site for the pool. The menu had been put together by Marigold ― Chef Boyardee and canned fruit salad ― and she insisted on carrying the bowls, which, thankfully, didn’t get broken or dropped along the way. It was a long walk from the kitchen, where they’d prepared the food, to the construction site, but the little girl didn’t complain. The way she balanced the bowls on her head with her hands and the tuneless humming made Leah smile. The sounds from the equipment grew louder as they reached their destination. Leah put her free hand out to stop her daughter from getting any closer to the machinery, nodding to Brandon when he looked their way. “What’s that?” The girl asked, pointing at the backhoe. Leah, having limited knowledge of equipment like this, answered, “That’s what they’re using to build the swimming pool, Mari. See the piles of dirt all around?” She pointed out the brown mounds of overturned earth. “Can we play on them?” “No, Sweetness. It’s not safe to play around this area right now.” * He had a niece. Really, he'd known about Marigold for awhile now; since that day Marchand had approached him and asked him what he'd think if he heard she was alive. Honestly, that had been a large part of his motivation behind making that playground. So that she'd have somewhere to play with. Back when she was just a theoretical niece he was imagining in his head. But now, now that she was here, with Leah? It was all the more real. All the more weird, to be honest. Brandon was an uncle. Leah had a daughter. Someone was Brandon's niece. No matter how you spun it, it sounded strange. Not necessarily bad, but strange. And now, today, he was getting to meet her. The little girl he'd planned on spoiling out of her mind back when he was a twenty-four-year-old rookie cop and, once again, she was a theoretical niece that he was imagining in his mind, for an entirely different reason. Brandon was a really different person now than he was then, and he had to wonder, just a little, if that type of person was the right type of person to help his sister with a four-year-old. He'd never had much faith in his ability to change, and this change was one that he needed to make fast. He'd started cleaning up his language, which was a minor change, in the grand scheme of things, but to Brandon was a huge deal. What was he going to do when he met her? What was she going to think of him? Well, that moment was here now, so he didn't have to agonize over it anymore. He cut the engine on the backhoe, almost satisfied with the hole he'd dug, and moved to slide out to get something to drink, when he caught sight of Leah and Marigold in his peripheral vision. He'd seen her for a few seconds on the return trip from the government facility, but he hadn't been able to talk to her then. Now... Now he was more nervous about meeting a four-year-old than he'd ever been about any woman his age. He wiped a little dirt from his hands—how it had gotten there when he'd been sitting in the backhoe of all places was beyond him—and approached his sister and niece with a nervous smile on his face. "Hey there, you two..." he said with a nervous smile. "Fancy meeting you here." * “Fancy indeed, since you invited us,” Leah replied, eyebrows raised. She noted the tension around his mouth as a telltale sign of his uncertainty, and her expression softened. That, more than anything, told her that her brother would behave himself. Now that they were here, Marigold had quieted down, donning her shy mask once again. She held the bowls in front of her and stood a little closer to Leah’s legs, staring up at the man. The sound of the bowls scraping together brought Leah’s attention back down to the little girl. She smiled encouragingly, resting her free hand on Marigold’s shoulder. “Mari, remember when I told you Mommy had two little sisters and a little brother?” When the girl nodded, she continued, indicating Brandon, “This is Mommy’s little brother.” Marigold quirked her head to one side, assessing the man who was taller than Leah, before making a face. “He’s not little,” she said, her attitude conveying that the very idea was ridiculous. Leah snorted. “You’re right, he’s not. He’s still your uncle, though.” She glanced up at Brandon, her nod toward the little girl telling him that he should introduce himself. * Chuckling awkwardly, Brandon nodded his head. "Right. Well it's better than saying 'nice of you to finally show up,' right?" he asked with a quick shrug as he bit his lip and tried to relax his posture a little bit. He slid his hands into his pockets, because he didn't know what else to do with them, and glanced at his sister and his niece. The smile became more genuine. She was a Stone. There was no doubt about that. "She looks just like you," Brandon muttered softly. It was astounding, really. Yeah, she had a few of Ben's features, but really, she looked exactly like Leah. He watched her take on that telltale childlike shyness when faced with Brandon, who was a relative stranger, and tried to secure himself a little more. She even had Leah's nervous smile. He chuckled awkwardly once again and looked at Marigold when Leah addressed her as Mari, then back to Leah when she called herself mommy. She introduced him as her little brother and Brandon had to smirk at that. Laughing when she pointed out that he wasn't very little, he crouched down, standing on the balls of his feet with his knees bent. "I'm littler now, is this better?" he asked her in a voice that hopefully sounded as warm as it felt. "I promise, the girls are littler than me. Not quite as little as you, but they're in the middle." The grin felt a little more secure this time. "Nice to meet you, Marigold," he said softly, his gruff voice sounding a little less comforting than he might've hoped. "My name's Brandon." He pondered telling her how long he'd been looking forward to this, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. So, instead, he just extended his hand for her to shake, treating her like a little adult and wondering if she'd know what to do with it. "You like hanging out with your mommy so far?" he asked her. * Who knew her brother would be so intimidated by meeting a little girl. Or maybe it was less intimidation and more of a case of not wanting to say the wrong thing. Leah could relate to that, especially. There were (and probably would be for a long time) times when she still wasn’t sure what to say to Marigold. A million questions had been thrown her way, too. Some of which were impossible to answer. Leah sighed and made an inward promise to Brandon to make this introduction as easy as possible for him. “Much better,” she replied. “Wouldn’t want to teach her how to smack her uncle around because he said something mean. Not yet, anyway,” she added with a teasing smile. Leah glanced down again, smiling again when grey eyes looked to her with uncertainty. Ben’s eyes. The most prominent Tollins feature. Eye color had a tendency to change as a child grew older, and other features tended to become more pronounced. “She does,” she agreed, just as softly. “Maybe she’ll grow out of it.” It was only partially a joke. For all they knew, a teenage Marigold would look more like her father. As Brandon crouched down to Marigold’s level, Leah watched the scene unfold and wondered if this would be the moment where her brother finally let go of the guilt he’d been holding onto ever since she was bitten. He never really spoke much about that guilt, but Leah always sensed it in the way they interacted and the way he seemed more eager for her approval over their sisters. That was something Leah had wanted to change for a while now. She and Brandon had always gotten along the best and that would never change, but now that she had her daughter back, she wanted all the Stones to be back on a more even footing. Mari nodded her approval when Brandon was on her level, one hand still clinging to Leah’s leg. However, when the offer of a handshake was presented, the girl lifted the bowls up to hand them to her mom, freeing both hands so that she could shake her uncle’s. “Nice meet you,” she repeated, though her own voice was quieter and less articulate. Another nod. “I helped make dinner,” was Mari’s response, leaning against Leah’s leg and looking pointedly at the containers and bowls in the woman’s hands. It was Leah’s turn to nod. “She did the hard part: picking out what to bring. Hope you’re in the mood for Ravioli and fruit.” * Chuckling softly, Brandon shrugged a shoulder. “It'll be a good habit to get her into eventually, but I'm glad you're not teaching her to do it yet,” he mused with a little smile. Relaxing a little bit, thanks to Leah's comfort, he brushed a hand over his hair and shrugged. “But you wouldn't want to teach her violence, right?” A joke, but not really. Keeping Marigold innocent in a world like this would be tough enough. He couldn't imagine Leah wanting to teach her violence at such a young age, especially with how she and Brandon tried to keep Lilah and Kori from things, even as adults. “For her sake, I hope she does. I feel bad for the kid who grows up looking like a Stone, after all,” he joked. Given the fact that each Stone garnered more than enough interest from the opposite sex (or the same sex, in some cases), Brandon knew for a fact that the Stones were an attractive family. The guilt he held for the fact that Leah didn't have her daughter would probably never fade. Yeah, she had her back now, but she'd still missed the first four years. Those were years she'd never get back, even though she was making up for lost time now. And Brandon knew that there would be emotional torment as she grew up; dreams and whatnot. For now, though, it was easier not to think about it. Leah looked happy, and so did Marigold, and because of that, Brandon could be happy. He couldn't help but feel a little emotional when he looked at her, though. All that time, they'd thought she was dead. And here she was. If he was feeling like this, he could only imagine how Leah was feeling. Looking up at his sister, he quirked a smirk, unspeakingly communicating how glad he was for this. With a laugh that was let off in a breath, Brandon watched Marigold's tiny hand clasp his, shaking it gently. “I've been wanting to meet you for a long time,” he told her in a quiet voice. He really didn't know what to say here. Four years, he'd been waiting for this, and he had no idea what to say. Bet anyone else would know what to say. Bet you'd know what to say in any other situation, too. Fortunately, Marigold took the reins from there. When she expressed that she helped make dinner, Brandon pursed his lips and nodded, impressed. “That so? Quite the helper, are you?” he asked, slightly more confident this time. When Leah spoke up, he chuckled in response. “The hard part and the important part. I'm always in the mood for ravioli and fruit, Lele, you should know this. Good choice, Marigold,” he told her, pleased. * As uneasy as it made her knowing that her sisters were on the periphery of the world of violence, Leah was sure it would be years before she started teaching Marigold anything like that. With the way the world was now, it was inevitable that the girl would learn to at least defend herself, but Leah made an inward promise that it wouldn’t happen for a long, long time. “That’s right. I wouldn’t teach her violence even if it did help keep you in line.” Again, a joke with an under layer of truth. “Worst genetics ever.” Hardly. Leah’s lips turned up into a tiny grin. At least they weren’t conceited. Well, the girls weren’t, anyway. Brandon walked that thin line between confident and conceited more than any of them. “She’ll be beautiful either way.” Catching the look her brother gave her, Leah mirrored it back, her smile warming as she flicked her gaze to Marigold and back. Her hands were too encumbered to reach for a little hand or stroke the girl’s hair, but the affection was improvised in how closely she stood next to her daughter. Some people would’ve called it hovering, but when you’d lived the past four or more years believing your child was dead, a little overprotectiveness was expected. Nothing could erase the new found guilt she felt for not trying harder to investigate what had been done with Marigold after she was born. At least the nightmares had stopped. For now. A four-year-old had a more limited view when it came to the concept of time, so when Brandon said he’d been waiting a long time to meet her, Marigold assumed he meant days, rather than years. “Days and days?” And days and days and days, Leah finished silently. They’d all been waiting a long time to meet her. The girl nodded eagerly, pleased with her contributions to the evening meal. “I carried the bowls, too. They weren’t heavy,” she boasted. “Well, you know, it’s been so long since we’ve had family time, it’s possible I forgot what foods you’re most in the mood for,” Leah teased lightly, in a tone that clearly said they needed to get back in the habit of having family time every week. “So, since the girls brought the food, the boy has to pick where we eat.” |