Saturday, 8 April 1922
Barlowe Residence
Sometime after dinner, but before sleep
Staring down at the blank page, Morgan clenched her jaw. She was holding her quill so tightly with her left hand that her knuckles had turned white. She found herself lost in thought. David croaked from his vivarium. She looked at him and sighed.
“Nothing’s right,” she commented to the toad as if she could hold a real conversation with him.
He croaked in response. Did he agree?
While it was just her and David in her room, Evander’s was packed full. Benji and Kate were staying there with him, and of course Julia was with her dad. She frowned, looking back at the paper.
She always started the same way. Two words, that was all. Dear Mum. Then everything else followed. Tonight, however, it just wasn’t happening. She’d tried twice and crossed them out twice already. That somehow made it worse than not writing them at all.
As if she had something to say but couldn’t figure out how to say it even to her.
Especially to her.
David croaked again. Morgan’s frown deepened.
“Don’t tell dad,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
"What aren't we telling dad?"
Maddox leaned against his daughter's doorframe, his hands hanging lazily inside his pocket. He'd been occupied for most of the day. Returning for the Easter break, there were a few things that required his attention. Space for Kathryn and Benji in Evander's room – much to the little girl's utter disappointment – things around the house he'd put off until this very break. Add to that the general chaos of having four children in the house, and it was fair to say that Maddox had found himself busy.
Even then, he noticed the way his daughter had withdrawn. He knew, even before he'd said anything to Julia, back when it was all nothing more than a thought, that it would be hard for Morgan. There had been a shift in the girl – understandable given it came at the tail end of her mother's death – one he'd been trying to be mindful of.
He understood, of course. For a long time, it was just them, the three of them figuring out life and each other until they'd truly become a family.
What they had was comfortable, predictable. It didn't require her to change her routines or to give up anything she didn't want to.
In the span of less than a term, their little family had doubled, and that came with a multitude of changes, nearly none of them optional. Morgan wasn't as...high-strung as Kathryn when it came to changes – and he thanked Merlin for that daily – but he wasn't blind to the ways she was affected. The day simply hadn't lent itself to him having the chance to speak with her. With the day now winding down and everyone drifting off to their own spaces, it was the best time to pin her down before he turned in.
Maddox's gaze travelled briefly around the room, his mind drifting back to the day he'd taken her home and told her it was hers to do with as she'd pleased.
It looked nearly nothing like the bland four walls and wooden floor he'd offered to her at 12. Soon, they'd be on to a new place, and again, she'd be given the same liberties.
"Ready to talk about it?" he asked gently, knowing it was never good to push. She would open up when she wanted to and only then.
"What aren't we telling dad?"
Morgan’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Her green eyes met his blue. Of course he’d heard her. She didn’t say anything, had considered deflection – the typical nothing, forget it, go to bed that was usually said at moments like this.
"Ready to talk about it?"
Something in her chest gave way. The look of unsureness gave way to a frown. She shrugged slightly. Pathetically.
“Nothing feels right anymore,” Morgan admitted, her voice smaller than usual. “I’m trying, but everything keeps changing and I can’t keep up with it.”
Morgan looked from her father to her toad, sighing. Then she made herself look back at her father.
“I know it’s fine. Julia is – it’s fine, everything is fine. I’m not saying it isn’t –” Rambling. She cut herself off momentarily, attempting to get control of her mouth. “But nothing feels like it used to and home keeps feeling less like home and I don’t like how that’s happened and I don’t want to move again.”
Green eyes landed on her journal, the couple instances of dear mum that had been crossed out. She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth momentarily. “She should be here. Mum. She – she’d know what to say and what to do, and I don’t – know how to feel about any of it.”
Morgan sighed again. She didn’t want her dad to feel bad. “But it’s fine.”
Her repair job was pathetic, and she was flimsy at best. She hoped he’d move on and let her crumble in peace.
Rambling was never a good sign. For all the things the man could say about his daughter, she was typically...coherent. Of course, there were times when her excitement or worry or grief overtook her, but they were the exception rather than the rule. In this instance, it confirmed what he'd already known and had been suspecting throughout the day.
Morgan wasn't fine; of course she wasn't. Only the boys seemed genuinely unbothered, and one of them was three. Rather than interrupt or immediately try to enter 'fix it' mode, Maddox remained by the door listening to the many ways Mo felt disenfranchised by the changes taking place around her. It was the mention of her mother that drew him closer.
"Morgan..."
Maddox crossed the room, sinking into the bed next to her. At first, he was at a genuine loss of what to say. He knew she missed her mother. After Lyn died, the girl had been adamant that she didn't want to talk about it and that she was fine. He knew better, but he didn't know how to broach it in a way that wouldn't rip open wounds that hadn't been there before.
“But it’s fine.”
"It's not fine." Not for her, and while that wasn't enough to change the circumstances or prevent the changes, it was enough for him, as her father, to pay attention. "I know...I'll never replace your mother," no matter how he tried. For the most part, he was okay with it. Children needed two parents, and while Maddox had no intention of growing out his hair and donning flowing dresses, he could be her father – the other half of her support.
"No one's trying to be, not without your say so. Not even Julia. She'd love to be, someday if you ever want that but I don't want you thinking we're trying to force you to accept all this." A part of him believed she really thought so. That they'd dumped it all into her lap and were telling her to deal with it.
He extended his arm, inviting her to scoot in close if she wanted to.
"It's an adjustment for everyone. We're all having to give up things, but...maybe we don't focus on the things we've lost and instead...focus on what we're gaining. Evander was an adjustment, too, but we've been strong, haven't we? You and me? That's not gonna change. I'm still your dad, and I'll still always make time for you."
Maddox remembered it had been one of her biggest fears when she'd learned she would have to share him. The girl had gone nearly her entire life without him and then was suddenly told he wasn't hers alone. The circle was only getting wider, and how small she must've been feeling inside it.
"But..." he hesitated, understanding that blunt delivery wouldn't help.
"No one should be telling you they know the right way to feel or how you should feel, not even your mother if she were alive. This is one of those times where you have to sit with it for yourself. What you wanna say, what you wanna feel and what you wanna do."
Morgan could see from her peripheral vision that her father was moving closer now. And then she felt his weight as he sat near her on her bed.
"It's not fine. I know...I'll never replace your mother. No one's trying to be, not without your say so. Not even Julia."
She finally glanced over at her father, watching his face as he spoke.
“She'd love to be, someday if you ever want that but I don't want you thinking we're trying to force you to accept all this."
She saw his arm extend, an invitation. And part of her wanted to dive into it, let him hold her, break down and cry like she had the first time she called him ‘dad’. But she was older now. She couldn’t do that now.
But finally she did scoot in and lean against his side, her eyes closed.
"It's an adjustment for everyone. We're all having to give up things, but...maybe we don't focus on the things we've lost and instead...focus on what we're gaining. Evander was an adjustment, too, but we've been strong, haven't we? You and me? That's not gonna change. I'm still your dad, and I'll still always make time for you."
The thought of Evander coming into the family – she’d never forget how she felt when he first told her that she’d be having a sibling soon. The breaking in her heart, after she finally had her dad. And then to give him up for a baby that she didn’t even want in their lives.
"But… No one should be telling you they know the right way to feel or how you should feel, not even your mother if she were alive. This is one of those times where you have to sit with it for yourself. What you wanna say, what you wanna feel and what you wanna do."
Morgan sank into herself a bit. She’d been doing all of that. Sitting with it, thinking on it, trying to figure out what the hell she felt about the whole thing. And the one thing that she kept coming back to?
If her mum was alive, Morgan would be her only one.
That thought did something to her. She closed her eyes, feeling even more displaced now.
"I know you're still my dad, I just… get scared sometimes that there's less of you to go around." She didn’t look up at him, just continued to look at her hands. Tears were prickling behind her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him. Not this time. Not now.
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