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Post by Jenny on Nov 30, 2008 11:49:15 GMT -5
Esmé had barely had time to sit up properly and wipe the sleep from her eyes before Faust had arrived at her side of the bed and begun her apology, her little face turned downwards, towards the floor. Had Esmé not seen the tears on the ten-year-old's cheeks, she might have thought that her mother and father had forced her to apologize.
She was speechless for a moment simply at the sincerity in the child's voice. She had not thought back much to Faust's actions and how she had led her into Emma's room (where she had found Olaf and absolutely no doll, as Faust had specified), and she supposed it had been a little foolish of the ten-year-old to hand her over to the dangerous criminal in Emma's room.
'Faust,' she said softly, and placed a long-nailed hand on the girl's shoulder. Faust turned her face up to look up at Mrs Squalor. 'Faust, did you know Olaf was there?'
Faust sniffed, and nodded, a crimson blush decorating her cheeks. 'I'm so sorry!' she sobbed. 'He s-said h-he just wanted t-to---'
Esmé was a little shocked that her question had caused so many tears from the little girl, and awkwardly swung her legs around to the side of the bed so that she could lightly wrap her arms around the young girl and offer her a kind smile.
'Faust,' she said after a second, having takena moment to consider what she was going to say to the younger girl. 'Faust, you didn't mean it. And you most certainly aren't to blame for what happened.'
'But I--'
'--No,' Esmé interrupted, but her voice was soft and kind. Faust reminded her a little of herself as a younger girl, and Fernald and Colette of her parents before she had been sent off to live with Olaf. Esmé had always blamed herself for how difficult life was for her parents. If she hadn't been around so long, her father might have been able to afford to get some care for her mother earlier, so that she might never have died. And if she'd tried harder to help, maybe her parent's would have been OK. It was strange to her to think that her mother had died before she had even reached Esmé's age, and her father not long afterwards. She hated to think that she had given Faust one more thing to feel guilty about.
'If Olaf wanted to kidnap me, Faust,' she said. 'He'd have found a way to do it, even if you hadn't been there.'
Faust's eyebrows raised, as if she didn't quite believe that, but then her father stepped forwards and placed a hook on her shoulder. 'I told you Mrs Squalor wouldn't be angry,' he said, and smiled at Esmé over the top of his daughter's head. 'We'll probably be getting back to our house at some point,' he said, and Faust made no effort not to look crestfallen.
Jerome nodded. 'So will we,' he replied, his voice a little strange because he had snored all night. 'I'd be more than happy to stop by and drop your things off if that would be easier.'
It was a kind offer from Mr Squalor, but Fernald turned and saw his wife shake her head a little. Even he felt a little embarrassed about letting the Squalor's see where he lived after spending two days living in the splendour of the penthouse apartment.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 30, 2008 13:55:18 GMT -5
“That’s very kind of you to offer,” Fernald said. “But you needn’t trouble yourself. I’ll come by later in the week and pick them up.”
Esmé wanted to suggest to Fernald that he bring along Faust, but wasn’t so sure how the contortionist would react to that. Esmé thought she remembered Colette saying something contradictory to Cora in relation to the financial advisor’s villainous past. But it had happened right before Esmé’s collision with the automobile, and so she couldn’t be sure that what she had heard had merely been a fabrication of her own making. Rather than take the risk of embarrassing herself, Esmé chose to remain silent on the matter.
Not surprisingly, it was Faust who asked the question Esmé had been thinking. “Could I go with you, Daddy?” Faust asked. “Please?”
Fernald looked once more to his wife, who smiled and nodded her approval.
“Well, that depends,” he said, “on what Mr. and Mrs. Squalor have to say about it.”
“I’d say it’s a smashing idea,” Esmé replied, and smiled down at the little girl. “We’d be honored to have you.”
It was at that moment when Colette cleared her throat from the doorway. Esmé and Jerome both turned to face the contortionist, who was looking particularly shameful.
“Esmé,” Colette said, the fingers of both hands laced together while her eyes concentrated on the floor as her daughter’s had done earlier. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Esmé would have liked to say “Yes, you do”, but instead waited to hear what else Colette had to say.
“I never gave you a chance,” she went on. “I should have, but I was just so damn focused on the sort of person you were all those years ago. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see what was right there in front of my eyes. It was that I refused to see it.”
“We all make mistakes, Colette,” Esmé said. “I’ve made more than my own share. But you can’t spend your whole life feeling guilty for those mistakes. You’ve got to put them behind you, and move on.”
“I’m sorry,” Colette continued. “After watching you with your family, I see what a kind, loving person you really are. And so I know now that first impressions aren’t always sincere.”
The contortionist’s words made Esmé think back to the very first time she had met Olaf. He had been so handsome and charismatic, while she herself had been an impressionable twelve-year-old. She had not been able to see passed his exterior, and therefore rendered herself incapable of realizing how villainous he truly was. He had fooled her parents into thinking he actually cared about her well-being, and she had been far too naïve to realize that he had never truly loved her. Not until she’d seen him shove Carmelita to the ground in one of his many moments of rage.
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Post by Jenny on Dec 3, 2008 13:48:57 GMT -5
Esmé gave a bitter little chuckle. 'No, they aren't, ' she agreed, and her husband looked over at her as if he understood just exactly what and who she had thought of. 'But if it helps, Colette,' she continued. 'I forgive you. And I don't blame you for being cautious about me, after everything that...happened.'
'Being cautious is one thing,' Colette said softly. 'But being downright unpleasant to you is another entirely.'
'I forgive you,' Esmé said again, and was surprised how much she meant the words. She had never been in the position really to be the person who had someone to forgive, except in very minor cases, and she had never understood how Jerome had forgiven her so easily. Perhaps forgiveness wasn't all that difficult, especially now that she cared very little what had happened in the days previous, and only cared about what was going to happen in the future, now that she had bee reunited with her family.
Esmé certainly would've felt differently if Colette had tried to apologize and Jerome had never woken up.
'OK,' said Colette, and let out a shaky, awkward breath. 'Thank you.'
Esmé looked up. 'Well?' she asked suddenly. 'Colette, do you forgive me? For the things I did before--'
'--Yes,' said Colette, and shocked herself with the admission. Cora would never speak to her again knowing she had taken Esmé's side in things, but she supposed Cora didn't really matter, did she?
Before she could say any more, a little knock at the door of the room turned everyone's attention to the doorway, and to the figures of Andrew and Cora Squalor standing together, heads bowed.
'Good morning,' Andrew muttered, and didn't meet anyone's eyes except Fernald's. Fernald was the only person he didn't feel guilty towards, because they had been in the same position, and Andrew had done nothing wrong to him. He and Colette had been on uncertain terms after their exchange of words on Esmé's integrity, and he didn't look at his brother or his sister-in-law at all. How could he ever apologize to them?
'Good morning,' Fernald responded, and seemed a little worried by the silence that followed. Eventually, Esmé--in the mood for forgiveness after her conversation with Colette--also nodded her head. 'Good morning, Andrew,' she said after a moment, and he jolted, as if it shocked him. 'Did you sleep at all?'
'Not much,' he croaked in response, and simply blushed and blushed. How could he look at her, knowing that he'd upset her, knowing that now she knew how much he loved her?
He cursed himself that his feelings couldn't just change, that he couldn't pick some fault in her that would allow him to forget about her. Cora didn't look at him, and Jerome supposed somebody had told her what had happened, perhaps Andrew himself. That made him gain a little more respect back for his younger brother again, and he felt his frown soften back into a light smile.
'And you, Cora?' Esmé forced, and wondered if that had been wise. Had Andrew dragged her here to see her? She supposed so. Why else was she here? 'How did you sleep?'
'Fitfully,' the older woman admitted, and sat herself down on a chair at the other side of the beds her son and Esmé had pushed together.
'That's awful,' Esmé responded, losing interest now that it was clear Cora had nothing nicer than usual to say. 'You must be tired.'
'Tired and guilty,' Cora replied, and Esmé's head snapped back towards her. Cora's eyes were filled with tears, and Esmé felt herself jolt as Andrew had done earlier. 'I'm sorry, Esmé,' she said, and for the first time there was no hint of venom in the way she pronounced her name. 'I'm truly sorry to you for the way I've acted. For the things I thought, and the things I said about you. I knew you and Fernald weren't---'
'---Then why say it?' Esmé interrupted, and felt less ready to forgive Cora than Colette. Cora had shocked her with her attitude, and had proved herself to be changeable and unreliable. Esmé's trust in the only mother figure she had ever had had decidedly dwindled, almost down to absolutely nothing. She hadn't expected that from Cora, and it had disappointed her. 'If you knew it wasn't true,' she clarified. 'Then why did you make everyone else's life difficult?'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Dec 3, 2008 15:26:43 GMT -5
Cora avoided looking into the accusing blue eyes of her daughter-in-law, but the older woman couldn’t very well blame the financial advisor. Esmé had done absolutely nothing wrong from the time she had returned to 667 Dark Avenue thirteen years ago, and so there was no reason for her to be subjected to such appalling treatment now.
Cora sighed. Not because she was annoyed by the question, but because she knew it was a perfectly understandable one. “I suppose that the reappearance of Count Olaf unearthed memories from the past,” she explained. “Memories that reminded me of the person you once were, and I hated to think that it was possible for you to return to such a villainous lifestyle. Over the years you’ve become like the daughter I’d always wanted but could never have. The thought of losing you was overwhelming, to the point where I actually started to believe that the last thirteen years were nothing but an act. Now that I’ve had a chance to backtrack, I realize how foolish and cruel I was to you. I pray that you can someday find it in your heart to forgive me, but I won’t pray too hard. After all, I won’t blame you if you never want to see me again after today.”
Esmé had no idea what to say in response to her mother-in-law’s apology. While Esmé mulled over the words, she lay her head— which throbbed from a combination of her cut and from hitting it on the pavement —on her husband’s shoulder. She felt Jerome’s arm lace around the back of her waist, while his hand closed over the curve of her hip.
“I know you love my son,” Cora went on. For a moment, Esmé wasn’t sure which of the two men Cora was referring to, until the elderly woman continued. “It’s evident just by looking at the two of you that what you feel for Jerome is genuine, and not part of some brilliant performance.”
Esmé smiled softly, and felt Jerome’s hand as he gave her hip the gentlest of squeezes. “Thank you, Cora,” she said, and smiled to let her mother-in-law know that she harbored no hard feelings. “You don’t have to worry— I forgive you.” Esmé supposed it might take a few days before she was willing to give Cora a hug, but the first step was to forgive, and Esmé had already done that.
“I’m sorry, too, Esmé,” Andrew said. Both Esmé and Jerome watched as the younger of the two Squalor brothers took the tiniest step forward. “For what I did. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I hope that our relationship can at least be spared.”
Esmé was still a little upset that Andrew had kissed her when her husband had still been in a coma, but she couldn’t very well stay angry with her brother-in-law for it. And besides: if Jerome was willing to forgive— as that little smile on his face from earlier must have indicated —then Esmé should certainly be able to.
“Yes,” Esmé said. “Of course I can forgive you, Andrew.” Immediately after she had spoken her brother-in-law’s name, Esmé sneezed: a high-pitched squeak, which came out sounding like a little “choo” noise.
Jerome let go of Esmé’s hip to ruffle her hair. When he looked up, he saw Emma standing in the doorway with Carmelita, Nero, and the twins, who were nestled safely inside their stroller.
“Mother,” Emma asked, her stilettos clicking against the tiles as she stepped into the room. “How are you feeling?”
Esmé sniffed, and rubbed at her nose with her fist before answering. “I’m fine, darling,” she said, a little embarrassed on account of the way her voice sounded after having just sneezed. “I just woke up.”
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Post by Jenny on Dec 8, 2008 11:28:38 GMT -5
Esmé was thankful that for the first time since they had arrived at the hospital Carmelita seemed to have completely managed to control her tears, and offered her adoptive mother a calm little smile and leant into her husband's shoulder as she gently rolled the stroller back and forth, with the twins sleeping peacefully inside it. Esmé smiled happily at them, and both Carmy and Emma rushed over to wrap their arms around her.
'Are we leaving soon?' Emma asked into her mother's hair, looking around briefly at the other occupants of the room. Faust smiled at her gently, but she didn't return it, too worried at the time about Cora and Colette at either side of the beds that had been pushed together.
'Emma,' said Cora after a moment, and her granddaughter took a moment to turn towards her. Emma's shiny eyes were angry, and Cora didn't blame her for that. 'Emma, I was just saying to your mother that--'
'--Let me guess,' Emma interrupted, and held up a hand like her mother did to Jerome. 'You apologized, didn't you? And now you're going to try to apologize to me, too.'
Cora didn't see quite what the thirteen-year old had to be so angry about. 'Well, yes,' she answered. 'I said I was sorry for how I acted towards your mother, and the same goes for you. I was very--'
'--But you aren't sorry, really, are you?' Emma replied, and she had expected someone to stop her before her temper rose, but her stepfather said nothing, and neither did anybody else. 'You're only sorry because if you didn't say that, no-one would ever speak to you again. You're only sorry because if you fall out with Andrew and you fall out with Mother and Jerome, you haven't got anybody else, have you? If everybody hates you, then you're just going to be a lonely, old, horrible--'
'---Emma!' cried Jerome finally, surprised that her mother had said nothing all this time. 'Emma, your grandmother has just been tryng to apologize to you, and you are being incredibly rude in response!'
Emma shrugged. 'But it's true,' she said quietly. 'This all proved that Cora doesn't care about me, or about Mother, or about any of us.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Dec 8, 2008 15:42:18 GMT -5
“That doesn’t give you the right to—” Jerome started, and then broke off. “It doesn’t prove that,” he declared firmly, and then turned apologetically to Cora. “Mother, I apologize for Emma’s insolence. But surely you understand that she’s exhausted.” Cora looked as though she might say something, but before she could Jerome continued. “Emma, I insist that you apologize to your grandmother this instant.” Like her mother, Emma was not about to race over and embrace her grandmother. After what had happened to Esmé in the parking lot, Emma failed to see why anyone would expect her to apologize to the woman responsible. Emma was just getting ready to defy her stepfather, when she caught sight of her mother’s eyes from across the room. They were literally begging her daughter to do as she was told, and Emma thought back on everything her mother had been through. The last thing the teenager wanted was to see her mother get hurt. So, going against everything she believed in, Emma looked her grandmother in the eye and said, “I’m sorry.” But no one could force her to add the word “Grandmother” at the end of that sentence. Regardless, Emma’s effort seemed to please Cora, who merely nodded her appreciation at her granddaughter. Esmé sensed the tension between them, and decided to put forth her best attempt to break it. “Emma,” she said. “How would you like it if we had Faust and her family over for tea next week?” Colette’s head lifted at that, as did Emma’s. “Really?” the teenager asked. “Yes,” Esmé said. “Once I’ve recovered from my cold, I’d love to have some visitors over to the penthouse.” Emma glanced over at Colette. “Even Mrs. Widdershins?” “Yes. Don’t worry, darling. Everything between us is fine now. We’ve reconciled.” Emma nodded, and smiled at Colette, who smiled back. The fact that Esmé and Colette had managed to settle their differences made Emma want to try a little harder with Cora, who until recently had always been very pleasant. Emma would hate to see her relationship with the only grandmother she had ever known end. The way Cora now seemed to be closely examining the floor told Emma that the old woman was truly ashamed of all she had done. “Grandmother,” Emma said, and Cora turned her head in the direction of her granddaughter. “I’m sorry for what I said before. And this time, I mean it.” *~Finish~*
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