Birch stood in the doorway of her youngest daughter's room, watching as Cypress got ready in front of a mirror and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her gut. How old had she been when Birch had died? Even then they'd had troubles, but now? Now Cypress was a stranger, bound to her in blood only.
Alder had literally leapt into her arms the moment she swept through the front door, his hollering loud enough to bring everyone running, and he hadn't let her leave the house on her own since. He was always making up errands and excuses, tagging along after her and chattering nonstop. It was adorable when it wasn't driving her absolutely insane, and even then she still couldn't bring herself to tell him off or send him away. Olive had been wary, but welcoming - it might have had a vague, slightly detached edge that hadn't been there before, but it was far kinder than Birch thought she was owed. Listening to what they'd gone through, even through Alder's generous, rather rosy point of view, made her heart ache in ways she'd never thought possible before. In their hour of need, they'd been abandoned by not one, but both parents.
Interacting with Jacopo was strange - not unpleasant, just...
weird, but she'd seen how much he cared for her children - even those he had no biological claim to - and their love of him, and she could only thank the gods he'd been there when she couldn't be. Olive and Cypress blatantly doted on him, and he was one of the few people Alder actually seemed to listen to (Birch was not among those people, unconditional love or no). Effie was a light in Birch's life, a happy child who would seek her out at every opportunity. She was still a little shy, and had a tendency to babble, but she was so
bright. It was like a living, breathing embodiment of all the love and care that had blossomed after she was gone from the world.
But Cypress?
The girl turned away from her mirror, the doe-eyed look on her face slipping away and her expression hardening just a touch. She hadn't been overtly hostile, which Birch appreciated - she was sure it was no small effort - but the tension was immediate and obvious any time the two were in the same room. She'd said barely ten words to her since Birch had come back, most of them bitten off at the ends like Cy couldn't bring herself to breathe the same air as her. Birch straightened from her position, hands clenching and unclenching as she hurried to find something - anything - to say. Cypress looked away again, frowning at herself in the mirror.
"You... look nice." "Thanks." The word was quick, carelessly given. These moments with the Cypress were the worst, when she couldn't even seem to muster the will to hate her, but was instead just annoyed by her very existence.
".. Where are you going?" Birch regretted the question as soon as she spoke, wincing internally as Cypress turned to face her. Her daughter's lips pressed together, the matte pink color she'd applied becoming a thin line against her brown features. Birch quickly held up her hand.
"I only ask because Olive wanted to know how many for breakfast." A small, white lie. It burned on her tongue - was this really how she wanted to start out, already lying to her children? - but anything was better than that look.
"Olive knows I have work," Cypress replied, turning quickly away to pluck her jacket up from the bed. It was a small dig, a not-so-subtle reminder that Olive had been there for the last three years and Birch hadn't. She pulled the light coat on and strode purposefully towards the door where Birch stood. Birch didn't move, earning a deeper frown from Cypress.
"If I don't leave now I'll be late." "Surely, you don't have to work toda-?" Cypress' face flashed from vague annoyance to anger in a hot second, her face darkening. Birch would later marvel over how many expressions Cypress had managed to fit into their interaction - more than she'd seen since her arrival home - but now she was just assaulted, rather brutally, with the realization that her little girl had grown up without her.
"Right. You're back what? Not even twenty-four hours? And suddenly everything's hunky dory, right? Suddenly everything we've done, everything we've worked for, doesn't matter because mom's back! and she's going to fix everything, even though-" "I only meant, how often does your mother come back from the dead? Surely your boss-" Birch said, a bit weakly.
"You don't know shit about my boss, Birch," Cypress spat out. She breezed past her mother, oblivious to the fact that something rare was happening - her mother's perpetually stoic face flinched, almond-shaped eyes flashing with pain. Birch took a moment to recover herself, entering the inn's kitchen as Cypress stopped to press a kiss to Effie's head.
"I'll be home late tonight," Cypress told Olive as she quickly tightened her apron strings and hugged her goodbye at the same time, all while ignoring her mother's silent presence at the far end of the room.
"Oh, but I was thinking... we should have dinner together," Olive replied, sending a tentative, almost shy smile towards their mother. Cypress didn't even hesitate.
"Sorry, I already have plans," she exited the room quickly; her voice carrying from the partially open backdoor as she spotted Jacopo tending his garden.
"Bye, dad!" Birch flinched again, and before she knew it a small, slim hand - calloused at the tips from her sewing needle - slid into Birch's larger, rougher one and squeezed. Birch looked down towards Effie, returning the girl's gentle smile with a rather weak one of her own.
birch
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