A Balance of Harmonies: Places to Be
Jan. 13th, 2012 01:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frogs_of_warI have a horrible headache today, but at least I don't have to work.
I think I'm just going to have to wing all the stuff about the North California coast. Google/Google Maps is no help when it comes to where hospitals are. I gave up and checked my own state and couldn't even find the hospital I had my children in. And hunting for hospitals with trauma units/centers is even worse. Google only lists two in the entire state and I know the hospital in the town I was raised had one because it's what saved my uncle's life after his motorcycle accident when I was a kid. He never completely recovered, but then, head injuries are bad for the brain.
This reminds me of an interview I listen to with a woman who been hit by a car. When she woke up and saw her husband and family, she knew they were important to her, but she didn't know how. In the Dresden book I just finished, he was dead and therefore made up of memories, which could be eaten by bad ghosts or used as weapons to protect oneself, but if a ghost didn't recover it's memories after loosing or using them, it lost part of itself. I think that we as humans are made out of our memories.
I'm not going to do anything with that for this story, but I thought of a story idea where a woman wakes up and feels the tug of connection more for the man she didn't marry than the one she did and has two small children with. Told by the guy whose has crushed on the husband since college, so it can have a happy ending.
Title: Places to be
Series: A Balance of Harmonies (Three)
Status: Chapter fifty-two of lots
Genre: m/m romance, drama, city life, businessmen
Rating: R
Content: waiting, distractions, locking up, art, driving, flirting, an epiphany, directions, introductions, hugs, breakfast, permission, reading,
Length: about 2,900 words
Summary: Kurt is lonely, Emil gets hugged, and Peregrine is Google-able.
Master list
Emil leaned against the wall. Waiting for the plane was taking forever and then some. They’d left Kurt too long ago. That kiss goodbye had barely sustained him through the security line. Peregrine fidgeted with his bag strap. Emil fished a sketchbook and pencil out of his bag. This morning was going to be a year long.
--
Peregrine sat by the window, leaving Emil to deal with the business man in the aisle seat. Most of the other passengers were businessmen, going back to work on Monday morning. The sun wasn’t even up yet and these people had on their office faces. How did people do that? Why would they want to?
Emil passed Peregrine a sketchbook. If Peregrine drew the streetlight strewn scene out the window, would someone think he was a terrorist? He settled for drawing Emil’s hand on his thigh. Emil had an endless supply of interesting bits.
--
Kurt took one last look into the condo before he locked up and headed for work. The place was quiet, still, patiently waiting for the return of life and love. Much like Kurt’s heart.
--
Peregrine would have gone crazy without Emil. Not only did he ways have a sketchbook and pencil ready, but he dealt so well with people. He’d finessed sparkling grape juice out of the flight attendant with just his smile and now he was buttering up the car rental clerk who had three clients but only two not-quite ready cars.
Peregrine drew caricatures of the business men, who were fast becoming late for work. Emil sat down beside him. “I told him we’d take the next car for the same price as the one we’d ordered.” He leaned closer to Peregrine. “It’s a much nicer car.”
One of the men glared at Emil and then turned to the clerk. Peregrine stood up and ripped the page with his face out of the sketchbook. He extended his hand. “Peregrine Jones, artist. Google me. I don’t normally draw strangers,” which was a total lie, “but I was drawn to your face.”
Peregrine flipped up the picture so the man could see it. The other man and the clerk turned to look. Peregrine waved the clerk back to work. The sooner the pompous ass was out of here, the easier the wait would be.
“Let me just sign it for you.” He signed his name with a flourish and added the falcon in flight then handed it over.
The clerk passed the man a key. The man took it like it was his due and marched out of the shop. Peregrine turned his smile on the next businessman. “Peregrine Jones.”
The man met his handshake firmly. “You’re quite famous.”
So that’s what he’d been doing on his phone.
“Are you sure you should be giving that to him?”
Peregrine shrugged. “He’ll probably throw it away the first chance he gets.”
The man smiled at the clerk as the clerk handed him some keys. “Let’s hope, for your sake, he just leaves it in the car.”
Peregrine signed the picture of this businessman, who stopped to stow it safely in his brief case. Peregrine stopped him and added a bit of humor to his eyes. The man smile again. “Thank you. This was well worth the wait.”
If Peregrine gauged him right, he’d probably have the sketch appraised and then hang it in a frame worth more than the sketch and brag about it to his buddies.
Peregrine turned back to the sketch of the clerk. It wasn’t quite finished. By the time he was done, so was the car. He went out to inspect it while Emil waited inside with the luggage. The car was fine and the seats looked comfortable for the long trip. As he walked back in, he heard the clerk ask, “Is it really worth anything?”
Peregrine smile. “A few hundred maybe.”
The clerk gasped. “Dollars?”
Peregrine laughed. “Not thousand, obviously. I’m not Monet.”
And then he carried his bag and Emil’s out to the car. They had places to be.
--
Emil watched the scenery flash by. Peregrine was driving, which gave Emil nothing to do except worry about what would happen when they arrived. Emil’s phone rang. Kurt. Emil smiled. “Hello, darling.”
“Beautiful. I just called to see if Peregrine actually called Andre.”
Emil relayed the question then put the phone on speaker. Peregrine sighed. “I knew I was forgetting something.”
“And would,” Kurt hesitated, “would you be at all offended if I volunteered to step in for you. I think I could teach a drawing class.”
“Be my guest,” Peregrine took an off ramp to a small road and pulled onto the shoulder. “But can you get the time off?”
“If it’s volunteer work, yes. And it’s not like I have anyone to come home to for the next few days. I can always work late.”
“Good.” Peregrine relaxed against the seat back. “That really takes a load off my mind.”
“I’ll take care of everything.”
“Good. Now turn it off speaker, so I can call Andre.” Peregrine unfastened his seatbelt, picked up his phone, and opened the call door.
Emil hit the speaker button again. “Kurt Darling?”
“Still here.”
“Are you at work? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I’m on break and there is no one I’d rather spend time with.”
Emil chest filled with warmth. “Really?”
“Emil, my dear, my darling, my beautiful. You are my precious lover, my beautiful treasure, my great joy. I miss you already. I want to stay by you side and hold you tight, to watch you sleep and hear you murmur my name while you dream. I want to be the one you dream about, the shoulder your rest your head on, the arms that wrap around you. I want to be there to help you hold up our lover, but instead I will do my best to prop you up from afar. If you ever need me, night or day, call me.”
Emil snuggled into his seat. He could listen to that all day. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Call me. I miss you already.”
Emil smiled. “Should we call you when we get there?”
“Yes.”
Peregrine got back into the car. “Elendil, Elessar, and Elladan. Those have to be my nephews’ names. The father of Isildur, another name for Aragorn, and a son of Elrond. How like my sister. She always loved her name. And her oldest is Lúthien?”
He leaned back into the driver’s seat with a sigh.
Emil bit his lip. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No.” Peregrine sat up straight. “Everything starting to look familiar. Tell our lover… tell him I love him and I hate that he’s not here with us.”
He took Emil’s hand and smiled, but his smile was so sad it nearly broke Emil’s heart.
“I heard him,” said Kurt. “Take good care of him. He’d be lost without you. I’ll hold down the fort until you return. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Emil closed his phone. “Are we ready to go?”
Peregrine nodded and started the car. He really didn’t look ready for what was up ahead, but then who could be?
--
Peregrine slowly drove by his childhood home. The house looked the same, but at the same time different. The house had been fairly new when his parents bought it, but that was over thirty years ago. Éowen had knocked over a paint bucket the first time his father had painted the house, when Peregrine had been all of five. This paint was new. How many layers in between?
But they weren’t stopping here. No one was home. Mom was at the hospital with Dad and all the kids were in school. Éowen asked them to swing by her place before heading for the hospital in the town twenty minutes away. Éowen’s place shouldn’t be hard to find. Her directions were two houses ocean-ward from Greg’s grandma’s old place. The old woman had since moved in with one of Greg’s aunts. The difference in ownership was immediately apparent. Grandma Draves put a lot of effort into her flower beds, especially the one that was now under the huge trampoline.
Two houses past it was a cute cottage-like house with a white picket fence and toys in the yard. Peregrine pulled up in front. The door opened and Éowen stepped out, carrying a preschooler. “Do you want to come in, or should we go straight there?”
Why had Éowen asked them to go out of their way if they weren’t even going in? He got out of the car. “How about a pit stop?”
Éowen looked him over. “Do you need food?”
“We haven’t eaten yet today,” said Emil.
Éowen waved them to the door. “Come in, come in. How about scrambled eggs and toast?”
Éowen looked grown up, but not that much different from her teenaged self. Her hair was still brown, shoulder length rather than halfway down her back, and maybe the slightest bit move wavy. Her eyes were the same piercing brown that used to be able to read his mind. He smiled at her and looked down at the boy in her arms. “Elladan.”
She grinned. “I knew you would guess it.”
She passed the little boy over. “You hold him. I’ll cook.”
She stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned to Emil. “Sorry. I haven’t been thinking. Emilio, right?”
Emil raised his hand and smiled. “Emil is fine. And my last name is officially Bonsa-Faie.”
“Rainwater is a pen name?”
“His birth name.” Peregrine hitched his nephew further up his hip. The kid was heavier than he looked. “He was adopted as an adult.”
Éowen grinned. “I bet that is a story. My kids love your books. Dan, show you uncle which one you like best.”
Peregrine set the child down and followed him into the family room. This reunion was going better than he had hoped.
--
Emil followed Éowen into the kitchen. “Could you use a hand? I’m the designated chef.”
Éowen laughed. “Somehow I knew Peregrine would find a man to cook for him. Does he do his cleaning himself? Or has he outgrown it?”
“He loves to clean.”
Éowen laughed. “He’s probably in there cleaning up the toys.”
She glanced down the hall. “He is. And he probably still doesn’t like hugs, so I’m going to give them to you.” She pulled Emil into a fierce embrace. “Thank you. Thank you so much for taking care of him.”
Then she stepped away and wiped her eyes. She was busy whipping up the eggs by the time Peregrine and Dan came back with Emil’s book on ocelots. Emil turned it over. “This is one of my newer ones.”
Éowen smiled. “The kids love them, so we buy a copy as soon as they are published. Mom gets the ones the publisher sends. She has a special shelf for them. I don’t know if Théoden and Tinúviel are allowed to read them yet without Mom around.”
She grinned at Emil. “Prepared to be treated as one of her own. She does the same for my husband and Faramir’s wife, so welcome to the family.”
If all of Peregrine’s family was this welcoming, this trip would be no trouble at all.
Peregrine set Dan on the counter and asked him which picture was his favorite. He looked up as Éowen poured the eggs into the warm pan. “Prepare, you say. How prepared is everyone else?”
Éowen pressed her lips together and stared at the cooking eggs. “I haven’t told anyone. Harry knows of course and so does Luth. She called you a week or so ago, but freaked out when someone with a deep voice answered.”
“That was Kurt.”
“Kurt? Not the Kurt that you abandoned us over?”
No, that was more like what Emil had expected.
“Yes. That Kurt.” Peregrine turned a bit, so his back was more towards his sister.
“Kurt came back into our lives a few weeks ago. Where is the butter? The toast is nearly done.” Emil leaned on the counter by the toaster oven. “He’d just talked Peregrine into sending you all Christmas cards this year.”
Éowen passed Emil the butter. “Mom would have had a stroke.” She paused then turned back to the eggs. “Maybe I shouldn’t joke about tragedy.”
“Saying it isn’t going to make it happen. Nobody joked about Dad being hit by a car, did they?”
Éowen sighed. “You’re right. As always.”
She put the eggs on two small plastic plates. “I hope you don’t mind Pooh and Lightening.”
Peregrine looked up. “Classic Pooh?”
Éowen smiled. “Of course.”
Emil smiled. He loved those books.
“Then I want that one. Emil can have the other.”
“He’s a car,” said Dan.
“What noise does he make?” asked Peregrine as he took his plate. Dan entertained with them his knowledge of children’s popular culture as they ate.
Éowen took their plates when they were done. “I’ll wash them later. I’ve got to get back before Les gets home from kindergarten. But I don’t want you to have to walk up to Mom alone.”
He wouldn’t be alone. That’s what Emil was for.
“Thanks,” said Peregrine. Then he asked the way towards the bathroom.
Éowen seized the opportunity to hug Emil again. “What would I do without you? I hope you don’t mind the hugs. Peregrine is going to need them too, once he sees Dad.”
Emil would be whatever Peregrine needed: a warm embrace, a shoulder to lean on, a person to remember when he last ate and how much, and someone with a notebook and pencil ever at the ready. Emil wouldn’t let him down.
--
Peregrine followed Éowen through the halls of the hospital. He hadn’t been on this floor before. He’d always tried to stay away from sick people every time he’d visited his mom after she’d had another baby. He hesitated for a second with his hand a little back and Emil took it like Peregrine had hoped he would. The boost Peregrine got from talking to Kurt on the way over had disappeared a few steps into the hospital.
Éowen stopped in a long skinny room with several chair, most facing the wall of windows into an ICU. She pointed at a sweater. “That’s Mom’s. She’ll probably be back in a minute.”
Peregrine glanced at the two people in the ICU. Both were so bandaged that he could tell neither age or gender. “And Dad?”
Éowen looked up. “He was there alone this morning. That one’s Dad.” She pointed at the person to the left. “He’ll get his own room once he regains consciousness. I’ll see if I can find Mom.”
Dad’s head was bandaged, but a little brown hair stuck out in a poof above his left eye. A notebook and pencil appeared in front of Peregrine. He looked over at Emil. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
Emil pressed the drawing supplies into his hands. “You’ll want the memory.”
“Thank you.” Permission to do what he ached to do was what he wanted right now. And his Emil was there to give it to him.
--
Emil glanced at the doorway when Éowen came back with a lady who looked like an older version of her. He could see where Peregrine had gotten his beautiful eyes. Éowen glanced at Emil then shook her head slightly. She wasn’t ready to make the introduction.
Peregrine’s mother was complaining about not being able to contact his father’s doctor. She wanted more information and she wanted it now. Éowen asked when she’d last eaten. Peregrine mother couldn’t remember. Dan climbed off his mother’s lap and headed for Peregrine. Emil waylaid him with his newest, yet unpublished, book. Dan clapped his hands.
“Elladan, dear,” said Peregrine’s mother. “Leave that nice man alone.”
“It’s all right,” said Éowen. “I brought them here to watch Dad while you ate. You need to keep your strength up. You won’t be much use for Dad if you’re lying in a bed beside him.”
Peregrine’s mother sucked in a breath. Éowen tugged her from the chair. “Say whatever it is on the way to the cafeteria. Danny, stay with your uncles.”
Dan looked up just long enough to nod then climbed onto Emil’s lap. He really liked this book.
As Emil started reading the book for the second time, Peregrine looked up from his drawing. “What was that?”
“Éowen took your mom to eat something.”
“Ok.” He looked down at his page again and he was back in his art zone. Emil would be the gatekeeper, protecting his back.
--
Peregrine looked up when Emil put a hand on his knee. Rapid footsteps came from the hall. Peregrine mind played war with whether to keep looking at the doorway or to add that touch to the drawing of Elladan playing with one of those ‘push the bead along the twisting wire’ toys that only seemed to appear in waiting rooms. The drawing won, of course. That was part of what made Peregrine an artist.
I think I'm just going to have to wing all the stuff about the North California coast. Google/Google Maps is no help when it comes to where hospitals are. I gave up and checked my own state and couldn't even find the hospital I had my children in. And hunting for hospitals with trauma units/centers is even worse. Google only lists two in the entire state and I know the hospital in the town I was raised had one because it's what saved my uncle's life after his motorcycle accident when I was a kid. He never completely recovered, but then, head injuries are bad for the brain.
This reminds me of an interview I listen to with a woman who been hit by a car. When she woke up and saw her husband and family, she knew they were important to her, but she didn't know how. In the Dresden book I just finished, he was dead and therefore made up of memories, which could be eaten by bad ghosts or used as weapons to protect oneself, but if a ghost didn't recover it's memories after loosing or using them, it lost part of itself. I think that we as humans are made out of our memories.
I'm not going to do anything with that for this story, but I thought of a story idea where a woman wakes up and feels the tug of connection more for the man she didn't marry than the one she did and has two small children with. Told by the guy whose has crushed on the husband since college, so it can have a happy ending.
Title: Places to be
Series: A Balance of Harmonies (Three)
Status: Chapter fifty-two of lots
Genre: m/m romance, drama, city life, businessmen
Rating: R
Content: waiting, distractions, locking up, art, driving, flirting, an epiphany, directions, introductions, hugs, breakfast, permission, reading,
Length: about 2,900 words
Summary: Kurt is lonely, Emil gets hugged, and Peregrine is Google-able.
Master list
Emil leaned against the wall. Waiting for the plane was taking forever and then some. They’d left Kurt too long ago. That kiss goodbye had barely sustained him through the security line. Peregrine fidgeted with his bag strap. Emil fished a sketchbook and pencil out of his bag. This morning was going to be a year long.
--
Peregrine sat by the window, leaving Emil to deal with the business man in the aisle seat. Most of the other passengers were businessmen, going back to work on Monday morning. The sun wasn’t even up yet and these people had on their office faces. How did people do that? Why would they want to?
Emil passed Peregrine a sketchbook. If Peregrine drew the streetlight strewn scene out the window, would someone think he was a terrorist? He settled for drawing Emil’s hand on his thigh. Emil had an endless supply of interesting bits.
--
Kurt took one last look into the condo before he locked up and headed for work. The place was quiet, still, patiently waiting for the return of life and love. Much like Kurt’s heart.
--
Peregrine would have gone crazy without Emil. Not only did he ways have a sketchbook and pencil ready, but he dealt so well with people. He’d finessed sparkling grape juice out of the flight attendant with just his smile and now he was buttering up the car rental clerk who had three clients but only two not-quite ready cars.
Peregrine drew caricatures of the business men, who were fast becoming late for work. Emil sat down beside him. “I told him we’d take the next car for the same price as the one we’d ordered.” He leaned closer to Peregrine. “It’s a much nicer car.”
One of the men glared at Emil and then turned to the clerk. Peregrine stood up and ripped the page with his face out of the sketchbook. He extended his hand. “Peregrine Jones, artist. Google me. I don’t normally draw strangers,” which was a total lie, “but I was drawn to your face.”
Peregrine flipped up the picture so the man could see it. The other man and the clerk turned to look. Peregrine waved the clerk back to work. The sooner the pompous ass was out of here, the easier the wait would be.
“Let me just sign it for you.” He signed his name with a flourish and added the falcon in flight then handed it over.
The clerk passed the man a key. The man took it like it was his due and marched out of the shop. Peregrine turned his smile on the next businessman. “Peregrine Jones.”
The man met his handshake firmly. “You’re quite famous.”
So that’s what he’d been doing on his phone.
“Are you sure you should be giving that to him?”
Peregrine shrugged. “He’ll probably throw it away the first chance he gets.”
The man smiled at the clerk as the clerk handed him some keys. “Let’s hope, for your sake, he just leaves it in the car.”
Peregrine signed the picture of this businessman, who stopped to stow it safely in his brief case. Peregrine stopped him and added a bit of humor to his eyes. The man smile again. “Thank you. This was well worth the wait.”
If Peregrine gauged him right, he’d probably have the sketch appraised and then hang it in a frame worth more than the sketch and brag about it to his buddies.
Peregrine turned back to the sketch of the clerk. It wasn’t quite finished. By the time he was done, so was the car. He went out to inspect it while Emil waited inside with the luggage. The car was fine and the seats looked comfortable for the long trip. As he walked back in, he heard the clerk ask, “Is it really worth anything?”
Peregrine smile. “A few hundred maybe.”
The clerk gasped. “Dollars?”
Peregrine laughed. “Not thousand, obviously. I’m not Monet.”
And then he carried his bag and Emil’s out to the car. They had places to be.
--
Emil watched the scenery flash by. Peregrine was driving, which gave Emil nothing to do except worry about what would happen when they arrived. Emil’s phone rang. Kurt. Emil smiled. “Hello, darling.”
“Beautiful. I just called to see if Peregrine actually called Andre.”
Emil relayed the question then put the phone on speaker. Peregrine sighed. “I knew I was forgetting something.”
“And would,” Kurt hesitated, “would you be at all offended if I volunteered to step in for you. I think I could teach a drawing class.”
“Be my guest,” Peregrine took an off ramp to a small road and pulled onto the shoulder. “But can you get the time off?”
“If it’s volunteer work, yes. And it’s not like I have anyone to come home to for the next few days. I can always work late.”
“Good.” Peregrine relaxed against the seat back. “That really takes a load off my mind.”
“I’ll take care of everything.”
“Good. Now turn it off speaker, so I can call Andre.” Peregrine unfastened his seatbelt, picked up his phone, and opened the call door.
Emil hit the speaker button again. “Kurt Darling?”
“Still here.”
“Are you at work? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I’m on break and there is no one I’d rather spend time with.”
Emil chest filled with warmth. “Really?”
“Emil, my dear, my darling, my beautiful. You are my precious lover, my beautiful treasure, my great joy. I miss you already. I want to stay by you side and hold you tight, to watch you sleep and hear you murmur my name while you dream. I want to be the one you dream about, the shoulder your rest your head on, the arms that wrap around you. I want to be there to help you hold up our lover, but instead I will do my best to prop you up from afar. If you ever need me, night or day, call me.”
Emil snuggled into his seat. He could listen to that all day. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Call me. I miss you already.”
Emil smiled. “Should we call you when we get there?”
“Yes.”
Peregrine got back into the car. “Elendil, Elessar, and Elladan. Those have to be my nephews’ names. The father of Isildur, another name for Aragorn, and a son of Elrond. How like my sister. She always loved her name. And her oldest is Lúthien?”
He leaned back into the driver’s seat with a sigh.
Emil bit his lip. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No.” Peregrine sat up straight. “Everything starting to look familiar. Tell our lover… tell him I love him and I hate that he’s not here with us.”
He took Emil’s hand and smiled, but his smile was so sad it nearly broke Emil’s heart.
“I heard him,” said Kurt. “Take good care of him. He’d be lost without you. I’ll hold down the fort until you return. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Emil closed his phone. “Are we ready to go?”
Peregrine nodded and started the car. He really didn’t look ready for what was up ahead, but then who could be?
--
Peregrine slowly drove by his childhood home. The house looked the same, but at the same time different. The house had been fairly new when his parents bought it, but that was over thirty years ago. Éowen had knocked over a paint bucket the first time his father had painted the house, when Peregrine had been all of five. This paint was new. How many layers in between?
But they weren’t stopping here. No one was home. Mom was at the hospital with Dad and all the kids were in school. Éowen asked them to swing by her place before heading for the hospital in the town twenty minutes away. Éowen’s place shouldn’t be hard to find. Her directions were two houses ocean-ward from Greg’s grandma’s old place. The old woman had since moved in with one of Greg’s aunts. The difference in ownership was immediately apparent. Grandma Draves put a lot of effort into her flower beds, especially the one that was now under the huge trampoline.
Two houses past it was a cute cottage-like house with a white picket fence and toys in the yard. Peregrine pulled up in front. The door opened and Éowen stepped out, carrying a preschooler. “Do you want to come in, or should we go straight there?”
Why had Éowen asked them to go out of their way if they weren’t even going in? He got out of the car. “How about a pit stop?”
Éowen looked him over. “Do you need food?”
“We haven’t eaten yet today,” said Emil.
Éowen waved them to the door. “Come in, come in. How about scrambled eggs and toast?”
Éowen looked grown up, but not that much different from her teenaged self. Her hair was still brown, shoulder length rather than halfway down her back, and maybe the slightest bit move wavy. Her eyes were the same piercing brown that used to be able to read his mind. He smiled at her and looked down at the boy in her arms. “Elladan.”
She grinned. “I knew you would guess it.”
She passed the little boy over. “You hold him. I’ll cook.”
She stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned to Emil. “Sorry. I haven’t been thinking. Emilio, right?”
Emil raised his hand and smiled. “Emil is fine. And my last name is officially Bonsa-Faie.”
“Rainwater is a pen name?”
“His birth name.” Peregrine hitched his nephew further up his hip. The kid was heavier than he looked. “He was adopted as an adult.”
Éowen grinned. “I bet that is a story. My kids love your books. Dan, show you uncle which one you like best.”
Peregrine set the child down and followed him into the family room. This reunion was going better than he had hoped.
--
Emil followed Éowen into the kitchen. “Could you use a hand? I’m the designated chef.”
Éowen laughed. “Somehow I knew Peregrine would find a man to cook for him. Does he do his cleaning himself? Or has he outgrown it?”
“He loves to clean.”
Éowen laughed. “He’s probably in there cleaning up the toys.”
She glanced down the hall. “He is. And he probably still doesn’t like hugs, so I’m going to give them to you.” She pulled Emil into a fierce embrace. “Thank you. Thank you so much for taking care of him.”
Then she stepped away and wiped her eyes. She was busy whipping up the eggs by the time Peregrine and Dan came back with Emil’s book on ocelots. Emil turned it over. “This is one of my newer ones.”
Éowen smiled. “The kids love them, so we buy a copy as soon as they are published. Mom gets the ones the publisher sends. She has a special shelf for them. I don’t know if Théoden and Tinúviel are allowed to read them yet without Mom around.”
She grinned at Emil. “Prepared to be treated as one of her own. She does the same for my husband and Faramir’s wife, so welcome to the family.”
If all of Peregrine’s family was this welcoming, this trip would be no trouble at all.
Peregrine set Dan on the counter and asked him which picture was his favorite. He looked up as Éowen poured the eggs into the warm pan. “Prepare, you say. How prepared is everyone else?”
Éowen pressed her lips together and stared at the cooking eggs. “I haven’t told anyone. Harry knows of course and so does Luth. She called you a week or so ago, but freaked out when someone with a deep voice answered.”
“That was Kurt.”
“Kurt? Not the Kurt that you abandoned us over?”
No, that was more like what Emil had expected.
“Yes. That Kurt.” Peregrine turned a bit, so his back was more towards his sister.
“Kurt came back into our lives a few weeks ago. Where is the butter? The toast is nearly done.” Emil leaned on the counter by the toaster oven. “He’d just talked Peregrine into sending you all Christmas cards this year.”
Éowen passed Emil the butter. “Mom would have had a stroke.” She paused then turned back to the eggs. “Maybe I shouldn’t joke about tragedy.”
“Saying it isn’t going to make it happen. Nobody joked about Dad being hit by a car, did they?”
Éowen sighed. “You’re right. As always.”
She put the eggs on two small plastic plates. “I hope you don’t mind Pooh and Lightening.”
Peregrine looked up. “Classic Pooh?”
Éowen smiled. “Of course.”
Emil smiled. He loved those books.
“Then I want that one. Emil can have the other.”
“He’s a car,” said Dan.
“What noise does he make?” asked Peregrine as he took his plate. Dan entertained with them his knowledge of children’s popular culture as they ate.
Éowen took their plates when they were done. “I’ll wash them later. I’ve got to get back before Les gets home from kindergarten. But I don’t want you to have to walk up to Mom alone.”
He wouldn’t be alone. That’s what Emil was for.
“Thanks,” said Peregrine. Then he asked the way towards the bathroom.
Éowen seized the opportunity to hug Emil again. “What would I do without you? I hope you don’t mind the hugs. Peregrine is going to need them too, once he sees Dad.”
Emil would be whatever Peregrine needed: a warm embrace, a shoulder to lean on, a person to remember when he last ate and how much, and someone with a notebook and pencil ever at the ready. Emil wouldn’t let him down.
--
Peregrine followed Éowen through the halls of the hospital. He hadn’t been on this floor before. He’d always tried to stay away from sick people every time he’d visited his mom after she’d had another baby. He hesitated for a second with his hand a little back and Emil took it like Peregrine had hoped he would. The boost Peregrine got from talking to Kurt on the way over had disappeared a few steps into the hospital.
Éowen stopped in a long skinny room with several chair, most facing the wall of windows into an ICU. She pointed at a sweater. “That’s Mom’s. She’ll probably be back in a minute.”
Peregrine glanced at the two people in the ICU. Both were so bandaged that he could tell neither age or gender. “And Dad?”
Éowen looked up. “He was there alone this morning. That one’s Dad.” She pointed at the person to the left. “He’ll get his own room once he regains consciousness. I’ll see if I can find Mom.”
Dad’s head was bandaged, but a little brown hair stuck out in a poof above his left eye. A notebook and pencil appeared in front of Peregrine. He looked over at Emil. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
Emil pressed the drawing supplies into his hands. “You’ll want the memory.”
“Thank you.” Permission to do what he ached to do was what he wanted right now. And his Emil was there to give it to him.
--
Emil glanced at the doorway when Éowen came back with a lady who looked like an older version of her. He could see where Peregrine had gotten his beautiful eyes. Éowen glanced at Emil then shook her head slightly. She wasn’t ready to make the introduction.
Peregrine’s mother was complaining about not being able to contact his father’s doctor. She wanted more information and she wanted it now. Éowen asked when she’d last eaten. Peregrine mother couldn’t remember. Dan climbed off his mother’s lap and headed for Peregrine. Emil waylaid him with his newest, yet unpublished, book. Dan clapped his hands.
“Elladan, dear,” said Peregrine’s mother. “Leave that nice man alone.”
“It’s all right,” said Éowen. “I brought them here to watch Dad while you ate. You need to keep your strength up. You won’t be much use for Dad if you’re lying in a bed beside him.”
Peregrine’s mother sucked in a breath. Éowen tugged her from the chair. “Say whatever it is on the way to the cafeteria. Danny, stay with your uncles.”
Dan looked up just long enough to nod then climbed onto Emil’s lap. He really liked this book.
As Emil started reading the book for the second time, Peregrine looked up from his drawing. “What was that?”
“Éowen took your mom to eat something.”
“Ok.” He looked down at his page again and he was back in his art zone. Emil would be the gatekeeper, protecting his back.
--
Peregrine looked up when Emil put a hand on his knee. Rapid footsteps came from the hall. Peregrine mind played war with whether to keep looking at the doorway or to add that touch to the drawing of Elladan playing with one of those ‘push the bead along the twisting wire’ toys that only seemed to appear in waiting rooms. The drawing won, of course. That was part of what made Peregrine an artist.
