Temple of the Ruined [Pt. 1] It all crashed down so quickly.
Last week, Nelson Newell was a government official of the state of Michigan, just like his father and his brother. Their family was a staple to how the state was run; nothing passed through the magical government branches without at least one of them approving it if not co-signing it. They were wealthy, well-known, and well-liked, the three big W’s in Nelson’s opinion. Indeed, their family was, by all measures, a success.
Then the allegations came. He knew he should have been worried about what his daughter told him the Faulkner children had been saying. Kyle Faulkner had been searching for years for a way to ruin the Newells, and at last, he had dug something up. At first it had just been gossip in the younger circles the man spewed forth through his children while he searched for something solid. Now he had found it, and Nelson’s life was in shambles.
He knew he had never played quite fairly, but what politician did? “Corrupt” was not a word he would have ascribed to himself or his father, let alone his older brother Roger. But there was proof now. Testimonies. Witnesses. Evidence. There was no way out.
The story went that Nelson had dabbled in dark magic to ensure political gain for himself and the other Newells of the government. He had bribed, he had coerced, he had forced votes, both to maintain their positions and to push their legislature. They were corrupt, cruel people, or so it was said.
There would be an investigation, they were told, to guarantee the legitimacy of the evidence against them. Nelson knew it would all be proven true; he knew exactly what he had done over his twenty-year political career, what his father had taught him to do: anything. Roger was innocent, of course. His only detriment was being associated with Nelson, who had taken actions not expressly legal to maintain both of their positions. Still, they were all suspended, and even when the reports found Roger innocent of any wrongdoing, the reputation would never be the same. They were a good family, but not good enough to survive something like this.
The Newells were ruined.
It all came out the very same evening of Makenzie’s school ball. Nelson and his brother chose not to send word to her or Roger’s boy Dustin, allowing them to have until their homecoming to live the lives they knew. Of course, it was a bit like pulling teeth to discuss the matter with Roger, whose immediate defensiveness--“My brother would never do anything like that!”--had rapidly turned to outraged disappointment when Nelson confessed to him. He wasn’t sure his brother would ever forgive him for this. Nelson accepted that.
*****
He sat in the parlor with his head hung, supported more by his hand than his neck, elbow resting on his knee. Makenzie would be home any moment, and Nelson had absolutely no idea what to say to her, how to make her understand. She knew--she had always known--but the discovery and its consequences still felt so surreal to even him that he could not imagine his sixteen-year-old daughter processing everything with much ease.
The thunk of a suitcase on the wooden floor snapped his head up, wondering just how she had gotten home so early. But it wasn’t his daughter he saw standing there, luggage placed beside her. All the nervous joy of being reunited with his daughter (even under these circumstances) immediately flushed from his system, draining away and leaving the only color to his face in his blue eyes and freckled cheeks. “Blair, no.”
“I’m sorry, Nelson,” said his wife from the doorway.
“Y-you can’t.. You’re leaving?” His voice cracked, and despite his pride, he felt the unfamiliar prickle signifying that tears could catch him at any moment. “I don’t know if I can do this without you, Blair. I really need you to stand beside me and the family.”
“Your family,” she returned, though despite the implications, her voice was hardly cold. On the contrary, she too seemed on the verge, her bright eyes dulled by a weak trim of water droplets. “This is a Newell issue.”
“You are a Newell!”
“No,” she half-whispered, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. Blair forced strength into her voice. “I’m a Hartfield, Nelson. That’s where I belong. You’ll get through this, I promise. I know you. You’re too strong to let this stop you.” She leaned down and grabbed her suitcase, taking only a few steps before his next statement froze her momentarily.
“What of our daughter?” Blair turned back to face him, and their eyes locked on the other’s face. Quietly, they both streamed tears. “What of Makenzie?” he demanded.
She gave half a laugh, cut off by biting pain. “She’s a Newell,” Blair replied with the ghost of a smile. “She’ll be strong, too. She’s her father’s daughter.”
Nelson bolted upright, taking long, clumsy steps toward the woman he had loved for so long. “Blair, please,” he begged. “Please don’t.”
She met him in the middle of the room, their bodies inches apart. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. She closed the gap between them, kissing her husband with a fire they had always known, a fire they had kindled from that very first dance. His meaty fingers tangled in her short blonde hair, her arms thrown around his neck.
He refused to be the first to pull away. When she extricated herself from the embrace, Nelson found he was no longer capable of looking into her eyes, the pain too much. “I love you so much,” he managed.
“I know,” she returned, already back to the doorway, her suitcase in hand. “I love you too.” Blair gave a weak wave, and then she Disapparated. Only after she was gone did he find himself able to wave back, a silent goodbye ten seconds too late to count. Nelson felt lower than he’d ever been, collapsing back into his armchair.
He had no idea how long he was there until he heard his daughter’s voice. “Hello?” she called, obviously confused by the lack of parents waiting for her on their expansive porch like they had before, welcoming her summers for the last four years. “Mom? Dad? Is anybody home?”
“In here, darling!” he called after clearing his throat. He wiped away any lingering wetness on his face, putting on his bravest expression for his little princess. Nelson had to be strong now. He stood in the center of the room, exerting all of his strength not to look down at the marks in the rug from Blair’s high heels.
Makenzie came into view a moment later, leaning against the entranceway to the room. “Oh, hi Dad. Where’s Mom?”