intheheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
intheheart) wrote2012-02-07 01:17 pm
intheheart) wrote2012-02-07 01:17 pm
Will I Reach
Title: Will I Reach
Rating: PG.
Summary: Arelie sees Ahava again.
Date: February 1992
Notes: Title from Vienna Teng's song "Daughter," which is more or less the soundtrack to this story.
Arelie almost didn't go.
So many times she almost turned around, almost said 'forget it, things are better as they are.' The plane flight down, the arrival at the airport, the hour-long drive down to Arab, she kept looking over her shoulder, wondering if she was doing the right thing. If it hadn't been for Dennis, holding her hand, gently urging her on, she knew she never would have had the courage.
Now, standing outside the skating rink where she'd agreed to meet Maria and... and Ahava, she didn't know if even Dennis would give her the courage to go inside.
The rink looked so forbidding, like an airplane warehouse- a giant wall of white corrugated metal and green-painted stone, surrounded by bare-limbed trees and spiky bushes, cold concrete and chilly asphalt. Not even the coated, hatted children going in and coming out made it seem more inviting-- less so, if she was honest, because they only reminded her of what she'd given up, of the child who probably wouldn't know her or even care. Arelie swallowed down nausea and clutched Dennis's hand.
"Let's just go home," she said, and turned around.
"No," Dennis said, his voice patient, and turned her gently back to face the rink. "You came all this way, love. You can't just turn around and go home now."
"Watch me," Arelie said, nervously rather than aggressively. "Ahava's fine without me. I'm sure she is. It would be better if we just went home now."
"Maybe she is fine," Dennis said, and Arelie loved him a little bit more for not dismissing probable reality. "But think how excited Maria was to see you again. She'll be disappointed. And you said how much you missed Maria."
She did miss Maria, the best friend she'd ever really had. Still... "Then we can meet her for dinner or something," she said. "Just go to the hotel now." She flexed her toes in her shoes, staring up at the rink. "I don't... I'm not ready." Just now, she didn't think she'd ever be ready.
"Will you ever be ready?" Dennis asked her, softly. "I know that this is hard for you. I'd think a little less of you if it wasn't. It's just... Arelie, love, I wonder what you'd think of yourself if you turned around now."
Arelie could think of no response to that. Instead, she looked at him for a long moment in silence, then faced the rink, took a deep breath, and hand-in-hand with Dennis, walked inside.
Cool air rolled over her face, easing the stress headache developing behind her eyes. The rink was much more inviting inside, full of echoing laughter and chatter, children and adults alike skating hand-in-hand, shouting back and forth to each other, singing along to the music on the radio, and underlaying it all the sharp sweet ring of blades on ice. Arelie squinted, but couldn't see Maria anywhere among the adults on the ice.
"I don't see..." she began, and then Maria spotted her.
"Arelie!" Maria practically teleported to her side, purse flying, and threw her arms around Arelie in a totally unexpected hug. "I'm so glad to see you!"
Arelie let out a surprised little laugh and hugged back. "I'm glad to see you too," she said, simply, and she was. She was surprised how glad she was, really. "You look amazing!"
Maria laughed, and tugged on the end of her ponytail. She really did look amazing-- relaxed and happy in jeans and a warm plaid shirt that looked too large for her. "Thank you," she said, and then, more quietly, "So do you. Much happier. You know, I almost thought you weren't going to come."
Arelie flushed, and looked down at her feet. "Yes, well. I almost didn't, but Dennis..." She realized he'd dropped her hand and turned around to find him a few steps away, hands in his pockets, studying the rental board's prices with a discreet intensity. "Oh, Maria, this is Dennis McCutcheon. He's my..." Words failed her, and she ended up saying, simply, "He's Dennis. Dennis, this is Maria Jackson, Ahava's mother."
Both Dennis and Maria shot her a glance at that, Maria's grateful, Dennis's mixed pride and concern. He held his hand out and shook Maria's with a smile. "I'm pleased to meet you," he said. "Arelie's told me a lot about you."
"I wish I could say the same," Maria replied, with a warm smile. "But we haven't exactly been corresponding."
"Yes," Arelie said, and flushed again. "I'm sorry about that, I just couldn't..."
To her surprise, Maria cut her off with an airy wave. "Don't give it a moment's thought. I was only worried about you. You left so suddenly." A note of uncertainty entered her voice. "Was it something we did? Did we...?"
It was Arelie's turn to cut her off. She shook her head, and said, "No, no. It wasn't you at all. You and Lawrence were wonderful. It was just..." She faltered, remembering how lost she'd felt then, how broken. "I didn't know if I could bear to give her up, if I stayed any longer. So I left."
Maria reached out and took her hand, gave it a comforting squeeze. "I understand," she said, softly. "And thank you."
They stood in a bubble of awkward silence amid the chatter, then Arelie cleared her throat. "I wanted to thank you," she said. "For the letters. I know I didn't respond, but they helped, when I was ready to read them."
Maria smiled, looking relieved. "Oh, of course. It was the least I could do." She glanced over her shoulder at the rink, then said, with slight hesitation, "Would you like to meet her now?"
Arelie swallowed. "I... I think so."
"Don't worry," Maria told her, quietly. "She's a lovely girl." She went to the rink then, leaned out over the ice, and waved at a pair of children skating in circles around each other. "Ahava! Duncan! Come on over here."
Ahava. Arelie's stomach dropped.
The children skated over to Maria and picked their way carefully off the ice, wobbling a little on the black rubber mats laid down to protect the skates. They were complaining, indistinctly at first and then louder-- "he made fun of my skates, Mom, tell him these are good skates." "They're boring skates. You need big skates for hockey." "I don't play hockey! You don't play hockey! Nobody plays hockey!" "Someday I might!" -- childish ribbing back and forth. Maria, wearing a look of indulgent affection, did not engage until they approached Arelie and Dennis.
"Children," she said then, warm but still stern. "Behave. Ahava, sweetheart, this is your mother, Arelie Koch."
Arelie's knuckles whitened on Dennis's hand. He winced, but said nothing.
She was beautiful, really beautiful. Dark brown hair held back in a ponytail swung beneath her pink knit cap, elegantly arched eyebrows curved over huge, expressive brown eyes- the same eyes Arelie saw in the mirror every morning. Her mouth was small and pink beneath the blunt nose she'd inherited from Farid, the only flaw in an otherwise lovely and symmetrical face. Such a beautiful little girl. Beside Ahava, beside her daughter, the boy, aggressively ordinary, seemed extraneous, barely noticeable. A pang cut through her heart.
She looked down at the two children, and all the words she'd thought of, all the scenes she imagined dissolved into nothing, leaving her throat dry and her mouth empty. What could she say to this child she'd borne and given away? What was there to say?
Under Arelie's gaze, Ahava went quiet, and drew close to the boy, putting her gloved hand in his. The boy in turn pulled closer to her and glared at Arelie, protectively. Her stomach sank, even further.
Maria, oblivious, went on. "Arelie, this is of course Ahava, and this is Duncan Ralston." Ahava's best friend-- Arelie remembered his name from the letters.
The boy burst through the silence, indignation in every line of him. "You can't have her," he told Arelie, loud. "You can't take her. She's ours and you can't have her!"
"Duncan!" Maria snapped.
Oddly enough, that outburst steadied her, gave her words. "I don't mean to," she told him, and saw him relax a little, from furious guard dog to merely wary. Ahava did not relax, only looked up at her with those huge eyes. "I don't," she said again, softly. "I..."
"Duncan," Maria said again, her tone promising trouble for someone. "Apologize this instant."
He scowled, but muttered, "Sorry," in a vaguely apologetic tone. Arelie had spent enough time around children to know it was the best she was going to get-- she nodded in acceptance, and returned her gaze to Ahava. She still had no words for her.
Maria looked back and forth between them for a moment, then said, "Duncan, your mother wanted you to practice your sprints."
Duncan rolled his eyes-- though only, Arelie was amused to note, when Maria couldn't see him. "No, she didn't," he said.
Maria rolled her eyes more openly, reached over Ahava, and tugged him away. "Come on. You have to practice your sprints."
She tossed a significant glance at Dennis, too, and a little too casually he said, "I think I'll go watch them. Used to be quite a skater myself when I was a kid."
Arelie, who knew what he was trying to do, smiled wanly at him. "Okay," she said.
Dennis leaned over and kissed her cheek, then whispered, "You'll do fine," before strolling off after Maria, Duncan protesting vociferously in her wake.
Left alone, Ahava and Arelie stared at each other.
Arelie, at a total loss, remembered something her mother used to do, when she had serious things to discuss. "Why don't we go for a walk?" she asked. "Just around the rink. You'll be able to see your mother the whole way."
Ahava glanced over her shoulder at Maria, now more or less shoving Duncan onto the ice, and nodded, slowly. She didn't say anything, though, and after a moment Arelie just set off, walking slowly around the rink so Ahava in her skates could keep up.
About halfway around the rink, Ahava finally spoke up, though she looked at the skaters when she did. "Is he my biological father?"
"Who?" Arelie asked, and then, startled, "Dennis? No. No, Dennis is... he's my... I guess you could call him my boyfriend."
Ahava perked up a little bit at that. "You have a boyfriend?" she asked.
Arelie laughed a little at the eagerness in her voice. "Yes," she said. "I have a boyfriend." Ahava at twelve was a little young for boyfriends, so she didn't return the question. Instead, she said, "So tell me about Duncan."
"He's not my boyfriend," Ahava said positively, making Arelie laugh again. "He's my best friend in the whole wide world. Do you have a best friend in the whole wide world?"
"No," Arelie said, and then, "Well, Dennis."
"Boyfriends don't count," Ahava said, a very you-should-know-this edge to her voice. After a moment she added, "I'm sorry. Best friends are really good for you. Like, Duncan, when I heard you were coming I was really scared--" She stopped abruptly, then went on with a sort of little shrug. "Duncan said there was nothing to be scared of and that everything was going to be okay. He made me feel better. Best friends do that." She twisted then and looked up at Arelie's face, for the first time since they'd started walking. "Don't you have someone to make you feel better?"
"Dennis," Arelie said again, because he did. "He really is my closest friend as well as my boyfriend. That's what everyone hopes for, I think."
Ahava shook her head. "Not me," she said, in a very decided tone. "Duncan's my best friend for ever and ever. My boyfriends are just going to have to be okay with that."
Arelie smiled in spite of herself. "Or you'll dump them?"
"Yep," Ahava said, and nodded firmly. "Duncan beats boyfriends."
"That's a very good attitude to have," Arelie said, and then, "Your mother. Your mother was the best friend I ever had, before I met Dennis."
"Really?" Ahava stopped and turned to face her, balancing on her skates with uneasy grace. "Why?"
Arelie opened her mouth, hesitated, and asked, "How much do you know about me?"
Ahava shrugged one shoulder, her face alive with curiosity. "That you couldn't keep me 'cause you weren't married and that was bad, that you gave me to Mom and Dad because you loved me very much and they loved me very much and they could take care of me and you couldn't." She rattled it all off with the air of a girl who'd heard it so many times she'd memorized it.
"Yes," Arelie said, sending Maria silent thanks. "Yes, that exactly. I had no money, I had no place to live. Your mother and father took me in, and your mother took care of me." She fell silent for a moment, remembering-- Maria holding her while she cried, Maria holding her hand at the sonogram, Maria making her tuna fish and banana sandwiches, Maria making sure she was safe and well both physically and mentally. "She wanted me to be all right. Not just for your sake, for mine."
"Yes," Ahava said, and nodded. "That's what best friends do. Duncan makes sure I'm okay, so he's my best friend. If my mom makes sure you're okay, then she's your best friend."
Arelie took a deep breath, and said, "She did something else for me. Something no one else has ever done." Ahava cocked her head to the side, and Arelie went on. "She took you. She took care of you. I still love you, Ahava, and she has taken such good care of you." She knelt then, in front of Ahava, looked up into her daughter's eyes. "You are such a beautiful, strong, healthy girl. She sends me letters every year, on your birthday. She tells me how amazing and wonderful you are, how you're growing up, how you're getting to be such a bright and smart young woman. She's made you into such a wonderful person." Arelie swallowed down a lump in her throat. "I am so grateful to her for that."
Ahava looked at her for a long, long moment, then said, "I did a little bit too. And Dad."
She didn't sound offended. Arelie laughed a little, and wiped back the moisture gathering in her eyes. "Yes, of course. But your father isn't my best friend. And you're my..." She stopped, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
"I'm your daughter," Ahava said, quite naturally. "I guess that's okay then." She wobbled back and forth on her skates for a moment, then asked, "Do you have skates?"
The question surprised Arelie, though it shouldn't have. "No," she said. "I could rent some, though."
Ahava nodded. "You should. I can do a figure-eight and a turn on the spot and I can skate backwards. Duncan can't skate backwards," she added, just a hint of smugness coloring her tone.
Arelie laughed again. "All right," she said. "If I rent skates, will you show me how to do a figure eight?"
"Sure," Ahava said generously, and began to wobble back towards the rink entrance. "Come on, let's get you some of the pretty white figure skates. They're the best, no matter what Duncan says."
"All right," Arelie said again, and followed her back. The weight in her stomach begin to lift.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Arelie sees Ahava again.
Date: February 1992
Notes: Title from Vienna Teng's song "Daughter," which is more or less the soundtrack to this story.
Arelie almost didn't go.
So many times she almost turned around, almost said 'forget it, things are better as they are.' The plane flight down, the arrival at the airport, the hour-long drive down to Arab, she kept looking over her shoulder, wondering if she was doing the right thing. If it hadn't been for Dennis, holding her hand, gently urging her on, she knew she never would have had the courage.
Now, standing outside the skating rink where she'd agreed to meet Maria and... and Ahava, she didn't know if even Dennis would give her the courage to go inside.
The rink looked so forbidding, like an airplane warehouse- a giant wall of white corrugated metal and green-painted stone, surrounded by bare-limbed trees and spiky bushes, cold concrete and chilly asphalt. Not even the coated, hatted children going in and coming out made it seem more inviting-- less so, if she was honest, because they only reminded her of what she'd given up, of the child who probably wouldn't know her or even care. Arelie swallowed down nausea and clutched Dennis's hand.
"Let's just go home," she said, and turned around.
"No," Dennis said, his voice patient, and turned her gently back to face the rink. "You came all this way, love. You can't just turn around and go home now."
"Watch me," Arelie said, nervously rather than aggressively. "Ahava's fine without me. I'm sure she is. It would be better if we just went home now."
"Maybe she is fine," Dennis said, and Arelie loved him a little bit more for not dismissing probable reality. "But think how excited Maria was to see you again. She'll be disappointed. And you said how much you missed Maria."
She did miss Maria, the best friend she'd ever really had. Still... "Then we can meet her for dinner or something," she said. "Just go to the hotel now." She flexed her toes in her shoes, staring up at the rink. "I don't... I'm not ready." Just now, she didn't think she'd ever be ready.
"Will you ever be ready?" Dennis asked her, softly. "I know that this is hard for you. I'd think a little less of you if it wasn't. It's just... Arelie, love, I wonder what you'd think of yourself if you turned around now."
Arelie could think of no response to that. Instead, she looked at him for a long moment in silence, then faced the rink, took a deep breath, and hand-in-hand with Dennis, walked inside.
Cool air rolled over her face, easing the stress headache developing behind her eyes. The rink was much more inviting inside, full of echoing laughter and chatter, children and adults alike skating hand-in-hand, shouting back and forth to each other, singing along to the music on the radio, and underlaying it all the sharp sweet ring of blades on ice. Arelie squinted, but couldn't see Maria anywhere among the adults on the ice.
"I don't see..." she began, and then Maria spotted her.
"Arelie!" Maria practically teleported to her side, purse flying, and threw her arms around Arelie in a totally unexpected hug. "I'm so glad to see you!"
Arelie let out a surprised little laugh and hugged back. "I'm glad to see you too," she said, simply, and she was. She was surprised how glad she was, really. "You look amazing!"
Maria laughed, and tugged on the end of her ponytail. She really did look amazing-- relaxed and happy in jeans and a warm plaid shirt that looked too large for her. "Thank you," she said, and then, more quietly, "So do you. Much happier. You know, I almost thought you weren't going to come."
Arelie flushed, and looked down at her feet. "Yes, well. I almost didn't, but Dennis..." She realized he'd dropped her hand and turned around to find him a few steps away, hands in his pockets, studying the rental board's prices with a discreet intensity. "Oh, Maria, this is Dennis McCutcheon. He's my..." Words failed her, and she ended up saying, simply, "He's Dennis. Dennis, this is Maria Jackson, Ahava's mother."
Both Dennis and Maria shot her a glance at that, Maria's grateful, Dennis's mixed pride and concern. He held his hand out and shook Maria's with a smile. "I'm pleased to meet you," he said. "Arelie's told me a lot about you."
"I wish I could say the same," Maria replied, with a warm smile. "But we haven't exactly been corresponding."
"Yes," Arelie said, and flushed again. "I'm sorry about that, I just couldn't..."
To her surprise, Maria cut her off with an airy wave. "Don't give it a moment's thought. I was only worried about you. You left so suddenly." A note of uncertainty entered her voice. "Was it something we did? Did we...?"
It was Arelie's turn to cut her off. She shook her head, and said, "No, no. It wasn't you at all. You and Lawrence were wonderful. It was just..." She faltered, remembering how lost she'd felt then, how broken. "I didn't know if I could bear to give her up, if I stayed any longer. So I left."
Maria reached out and took her hand, gave it a comforting squeeze. "I understand," she said, softly. "And thank you."
They stood in a bubble of awkward silence amid the chatter, then Arelie cleared her throat. "I wanted to thank you," she said. "For the letters. I know I didn't respond, but they helped, when I was ready to read them."
Maria smiled, looking relieved. "Oh, of course. It was the least I could do." She glanced over her shoulder at the rink, then said, with slight hesitation, "Would you like to meet her now?"
Arelie swallowed. "I... I think so."
"Don't worry," Maria told her, quietly. "She's a lovely girl." She went to the rink then, leaned out over the ice, and waved at a pair of children skating in circles around each other. "Ahava! Duncan! Come on over here."
Ahava. Arelie's stomach dropped.
The children skated over to Maria and picked their way carefully off the ice, wobbling a little on the black rubber mats laid down to protect the skates. They were complaining, indistinctly at first and then louder-- "he made fun of my skates, Mom, tell him these are good skates." "They're boring skates. You need big skates for hockey." "I don't play hockey! You don't play hockey! Nobody plays hockey!" "Someday I might!" -- childish ribbing back and forth. Maria, wearing a look of indulgent affection, did not engage until they approached Arelie and Dennis.
"Children," she said then, warm but still stern. "Behave. Ahava, sweetheart, this is your mother, Arelie Koch."
Arelie's knuckles whitened on Dennis's hand. He winced, but said nothing.
She was beautiful, really beautiful. Dark brown hair held back in a ponytail swung beneath her pink knit cap, elegantly arched eyebrows curved over huge, expressive brown eyes- the same eyes Arelie saw in the mirror every morning. Her mouth was small and pink beneath the blunt nose she'd inherited from Farid, the only flaw in an otherwise lovely and symmetrical face. Such a beautiful little girl. Beside Ahava, beside her daughter, the boy, aggressively ordinary, seemed extraneous, barely noticeable. A pang cut through her heart.
She looked down at the two children, and all the words she'd thought of, all the scenes she imagined dissolved into nothing, leaving her throat dry and her mouth empty. What could she say to this child she'd borne and given away? What was there to say?
Under Arelie's gaze, Ahava went quiet, and drew close to the boy, putting her gloved hand in his. The boy in turn pulled closer to her and glared at Arelie, protectively. Her stomach sank, even further.
Maria, oblivious, went on. "Arelie, this is of course Ahava, and this is Duncan Ralston." Ahava's best friend-- Arelie remembered his name from the letters.
The boy burst through the silence, indignation in every line of him. "You can't have her," he told Arelie, loud. "You can't take her. She's ours and you can't have her!"
"Duncan!" Maria snapped.
Oddly enough, that outburst steadied her, gave her words. "I don't mean to," she told him, and saw him relax a little, from furious guard dog to merely wary. Ahava did not relax, only looked up at her with those huge eyes. "I don't," she said again, softly. "I..."
"Duncan," Maria said again, her tone promising trouble for someone. "Apologize this instant."
He scowled, but muttered, "Sorry," in a vaguely apologetic tone. Arelie had spent enough time around children to know it was the best she was going to get-- she nodded in acceptance, and returned her gaze to Ahava. She still had no words for her.
Maria looked back and forth between them for a moment, then said, "Duncan, your mother wanted you to practice your sprints."
Duncan rolled his eyes-- though only, Arelie was amused to note, when Maria couldn't see him. "No, she didn't," he said.
Maria rolled her eyes more openly, reached over Ahava, and tugged him away. "Come on. You have to practice your sprints."
She tossed a significant glance at Dennis, too, and a little too casually he said, "I think I'll go watch them. Used to be quite a skater myself when I was a kid."
Arelie, who knew what he was trying to do, smiled wanly at him. "Okay," she said.
Dennis leaned over and kissed her cheek, then whispered, "You'll do fine," before strolling off after Maria, Duncan protesting vociferously in her wake.
Left alone, Ahava and Arelie stared at each other.
Arelie, at a total loss, remembered something her mother used to do, when she had serious things to discuss. "Why don't we go for a walk?" she asked. "Just around the rink. You'll be able to see your mother the whole way."
Ahava glanced over her shoulder at Maria, now more or less shoving Duncan onto the ice, and nodded, slowly. She didn't say anything, though, and after a moment Arelie just set off, walking slowly around the rink so Ahava in her skates could keep up.
About halfway around the rink, Ahava finally spoke up, though she looked at the skaters when she did. "Is he my biological father?"
"Who?" Arelie asked, and then, startled, "Dennis? No. No, Dennis is... he's my... I guess you could call him my boyfriend."
Ahava perked up a little bit at that. "You have a boyfriend?" she asked.
Arelie laughed a little at the eagerness in her voice. "Yes," she said. "I have a boyfriend." Ahava at twelve was a little young for boyfriends, so she didn't return the question. Instead, she said, "So tell me about Duncan."
"He's not my boyfriend," Ahava said positively, making Arelie laugh again. "He's my best friend in the whole wide world. Do you have a best friend in the whole wide world?"
"No," Arelie said, and then, "Well, Dennis."
"Boyfriends don't count," Ahava said, a very you-should-know-this edge to her voice. After a moment she added, "I'm sorry. Best friends are really good for you. Like, Duncan, when I heard you were coming I was really scared--" She stopped abruptly, then went on with a sort of little shrug. "Duncan said there was nothing to be scared of and that everything was going to be okay. He made me feel better. Best friends do that." She twisted then and looked up at Arelie's face, for the first time since they'd started walking. "Don't you have someone to make you feel better?"
"Dennis," Arelie said again, because he did. "He really is my closest friend as well as my boyfriend. That's what everyone hopes for, I think."
Ahava shook her head. "Not me," she said, in a very decided tone. "Duncan's my best friend for ever and ever. My boyfriends are just going to have to be okay with that."
Arelie smiled in spite of herself. "Or you'll dump them?"
"Yep," Ahava said, and nodded firmly. "Duncan beats boyfriends."
"That's a very good attitude to have," Arelie said, and then, "Your mother. Your mother was the best friend I ever had, before I met Dennis."
"Really?" Ahava stopped and turned to face her, balancing on her skates with uneasy grace. "Why?"
Arelie opened her mouth, hesitated, and asked, "How much do you know about me?"
Ahava shrugged one shoulder, her face alive with curiosity. "That you couldn't keep me 'cause you weren't married and that was bad, that you gave me to Mom and Dad because you loved me very much and they loved me very much and they could take care of me and you couldn't." She rattled it all off with the air of a girl who'd heard it so many times she'd memorized it.
"Yes," Arelie said, sending Maria silent thanks. "Yes, that exactly. I had no money, I had no place to live. Your mother and father took me in, and your mother took care of me." She fell silent for a moment, remembering-- Maria holding her while she cried, Maria holding her hand at the sonogram, Maria making her tuna fish and banana sandwiches, Maria making sure she was safe and well both physically and mentally. "She wanted me to be all right. Not just for your sake, for mine."
"Yes," Ahava said, and nodded. "That's what best friends do. Duncan makes sure I'm okay, so he's my best friend. If my mom makes sure you're okay, then she's your best friend."
Arelie took a deep breath, and said, "She did something else for me. Something no one else has ever done." Ahava cocked her head to the side, and Arelie went on. "She took you. She took care of you. I still love you, Ahava, and she has taken such good care of you." She knelt then, in front of Ahava, looked up into her daughter's eyes. "You are such a beautiful, strong, healthy girl. She sends me letters every year, on your birthday. She tells me how amazing and wonderful you are, how you're growing up, how you're getting to be such a bright and smart young woman. She's made you into such a wonderful person." Arelie swallowed down a lump in her throat. "I am so grateful to her for that."
Ahava looked at her for a long, long moment, then said, "I did a little bit too. And Dad."
She didn't sound offended. Arelie laughed a little, and wiped back the moisture gathering in her eyes. "Yes, of course. But your father isn't my best friend. And you're my..." She stopped, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
"I'm your daughter," Ahava said, quite naturally. "I guess that's okay then." She wobbled back and forth on her skates for a moment, then asked, "Do you have skates?"
The question surprised Arelie, though it shouldn't have. "No," she said. "I could rent some, though."
Ahava nodded. "You should. I can do a figure-eight and a turn on the spot and I can skate backwards. Duncan can't skate backwards," she added, just a hint of smugness coloring her tone.
Arelie laughed again. "All right," she said. "If I rent skates, will you show me how to do a figure eight?"
"Sure," Ahava said generously, and began to wobble back towards the rink entrance. "Come on, let's get you some of the pretty white figure skates. They're the best, no matter what Duncan says."
"All right," Arelie said again, and followed her back. The weight in her stomach begin to lift.