forum A Thousand Cranes // Rated PG-15 // Eris

Started November 30, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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In Biology Declan and I are the first to enter the class. When Brent enters the room he drops his bag at his table and strolls over to us, leaning on the table again like he did last week.

Right now, it’s too damn much. He freaks me out. I slide my chair back; the eerie scraping noise it makes on the ground voicing nicely how I feel inside.

"Are you okay again? You scared us last week, Cassia." Brent says, probably wanting to be kind but being way too close all the same. "If you ever need anything, I'm here for you, okay? You should have told me you were having a panic attack last week. I would have taken you to a nice, quiet place.”

I tense up further, not realizing my tongue is trapped between my back teeth until I taste blood.

…this is a nice, quiet place Cassia. I’ll keep you here, always.

It’s too much. I can’t quiet the dark parts of my mind enough to relax. Or even to get to that spot where I can just exist.

Declan is tense too, I can feel it rolling off him in waves, but he doesn't say anything. The glare that he is shifting between his notebook and Brent’s face is enough to speak volumes though. Last week he spoke for me and although I didn't know what to think of it, at least he told Brent he wasn't wanted.

I—I wish he would do that now…

Brent waits for a long moment, apparently undisturbed by my unresponsiveness. He keeps smiling and looking at me before he finally speaks again. "If you ever need a shoulder, or someone to talk to, I'm here for you, sweetness." He finishes.

Declan tenses further. I can feel it in his body energy before he takes a breath to speak. "She doesn't really speak much, in case you haven't noticed, dipshit. Nor does she want anything to do with you." He mutters so lowly Brent doesn't even hear him.

As if Brent's words weren't enough to make me want to run, he leans suddenly forward to place his hand on my arm in what would be a comforting gesture.

I flinch back violently, the chair coming to balance precariously on its two hind legs before Declan's hand flashes out to hold the chair upright.

Brent, undisturbed, smiles again and shrugs as he pulls his hand back. Then Mr. Banner asks him to sit down in his own seat and Brent leaves, leaving me wide-eyed and unable to breathe.

"Jesus, are you okay?" Declan asks as soon as Mr. Banner is no longer focusing on us.

Still with big eyes, I catch his gaze.

"Are you okay, Cassia?" Declan asks again. "Do you want out?"

I shake my head slowly at his last question. I wish I could tell him how comforting it is to know that he would bolt out of this room with me if I ever gave the slightest inclination that I wanted out.

I wish I could tell him how me makes me feel.

I wish I could tell him how warm he is.

I wish I could tell him…

"Breathe." He coaxes.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, I swallow the coppery taste of blood as I hold my breath for a moment to get my hammering heart under control.

When he is confident I am not going to explode or collapse, he looks front again to catch a glimpse of what Mr. Banner is saying.

I focus on the lesson too, grateful for the distraction. The world could explode right now and I’d be happy that this day was over.

"Hey," Declan asks when we're about halfway through the class. He and I are both goggled up for the lab and he extends a beaker of clear liquid towards me. "What do you have to do for Gym detention?"

On a scrap of paper I write the assignment I've been given, and I add that I am allowed to do it at home. I also write down that I have to check in at the beginning and end of each class.

Declan nods and smiles, seemingly relieved. "Good. It doesn't even sound that bad, actually. Coach is generally quite understanding of everyone’s…issues. But I’ve got to say, you must have made an impression because this is nicer than usual for that hardass."

I nod my head, the corner of my mouth turning up in a smile I can't suppress.

He smiles wider then, his eyes crinkling up. "You like it, don't you?"

I shrug, and blush, and look down to hide it.

Declan chuckles softly, focusing back to the chemicals he’s mixing. "Good for you, stick it to the man, Cass."

At the end of class, he is up immediately. "I'll walk you to Gym."

---

So we set a rhythm. Every class, Iona, Declan, or Josh walk with me. Even though it is no longer necessary, after a few days I am willing to admit that I like the company, their easy chatter. Declan walks me to Gym every day, which relieves me more than I can express. During breaks and lunch, all the Michael’ and even Tatiana and Marrissa help me through, distracting me and fending off curious questions until they die down.

The rumors are vicious and especially Lola, Cate and some other girls I don't know the names of are implying that what I did was a shit excuse to get out of Gym. I ignore them. I'd happily be able to join in Gym. If they only knew.

I start to look forward to Biology. Declan is always nice, and he rarely brings up things that make me uneasy or tense. Difficult topics he saves for our meetings on the porch. When I am the one to bring out tea when he is already sitting on the top step, his smile is magnificent.

Often he hands me his phone with his usual request, "talk to me", but sometimes we sit in complete silence, almost completely at ease. I notice how he has started to close the exaggerated distance between us carefully and I notice how I am not alarmed by it.

Not even a little.

He grazes my fingers once or twice more when I hand him back his phone but when I warn him with a look, he apologizes with a casual shrug. It makes me wonder if it was accidental or on purpose. I don't know. What I understand even less of, is that even though my automatic reaction is to tell him off and shy away from the touches, I can’t help but miss the warmth of his fingers and how good the sensation of his calloused fingers feel against the back of my hand.

Declan has made it clear multiple times that he's not going to stay away and when I lie in bed at night, thinking about my day and my new life, I can't help but admit to myself at least that it is nice to have nice people around me. I'm indulging myself I know, as I am sure they will turn against me some day, but for now, I bask in the warmth.

Neither Nick and Emmy are not angry at all when I tell them about detention on Monday with hammering heart and trembling hands. They ask me if I feel like I have learned from this and when I nod, they are satisfied. They both demand I start the detention assignment on Monday night however, and Nick wants to read my work before I hand it in to the coach. He says its because he wants to check my work as a doctor, but he seemed particularly intrigued about the subject matter and implied that he thought I would have an interesting outlook on the subject.

Safe to say I beamed under the praise.

I finish the essay on Wednesday night and bring it to Nick in his office, still so nervous to walk into that room. He accepts it with a smile and after some small talk I cannot focus on because I am so tense, he lets me go.

Thursday morning I find the assignment on the kitchen table, with a post-it on it.

Although this is detention work and I am not allowed to compliment you for this, I want to tell you it's good. Your words read easily, and your argumentation is valid, if not incredibly insightful. It was a joy to read. ~Nick :P

I swallow and bring my hands to my face to cool the blush that flares at this unmistakable praise. I have never been complimented like this before on my work.

It's dizzying and I can't help but smile. I put the post-it in a box Iona gave me, a small container in which I could keep mementos, she said. I’ve put all my paper cranes in this box for now, the ones too big have been strung up around the ceiling of my room with the help of Nick and Declan. They had both looked at me curiously afterward, but I was unable to offer any explanation at the time.

Since then, I’ve found small clumsily made cranes have appeared on my desk a few times. I’ve been too shy and shocked to ask about them, but I saw Declan hastily walk past my bedroom door with bright red ears a couple days ago. For the life of me I cannot figure out why he’d do such a thing.

Generally, it's like I start to feel a bit lighter in my head. Less stressed, perhaps.

It's liberating.

I take a deep breath every once in awhile now and can feel my entire chest fill with this light.

Remarkable.

On Friday afternoon Emmy sits down with me at the kitchen table and asks me if I have thought about therapy. Which immediately brings me down from this pseudo-high I’ve been living in. The snarky part of me wonders why she would even ask me this, since it's clear I am going to therapy whether I like it or not, but Emmy calls me out of my thoughts quickly.
"There is a difference in you trying it to please us and trying it to please yourself." She arches a blonde brow at me.

I swallow, feeling busted.

"So, what do you think?"

However much I do not want therapy, I can't stop thinking about Declan's words. Perhaps it will help me to become a better person. So I nod, and thankfully Emmy understands my answer. Her eyes light up but her smile stays somewhat more gentle. It's obvious though that she is very happy I am willing to try it.

"I am so glad to hear this, Cassia. Even if you just want to try it. And I know it won't be an easy journey, but we're here for you too, okay? Anything you need." She extends a hand to me and only after staring at it for a few very short seconds do I take it.

She’s so warm. I wonder if it bothers her that my fingers are like ice. Emmy gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, looking more than a little pleased.

As the notion of therapy all of a sudden becomes that much more solid, I tense up, holding my breath to push away the sudden panic that is setting in.

Nick enters the kitchen then, looking from me, to Emmy, to our intertwined hands before he walks to the counter to fix himself a cup of coffee. "Everything all right here?" he asks then, mug in hand.

"I was just talking about therapy with Cassia," Emmy speaks softly. She squeezes my hand again as I move to disengage, and I end up leaving my hand where it is. "I guess it is all a bit scary."

"I would think it is," Nick replies, equally as soft. "But the good thing with therapy is that you decide what you want to talk about. You are the one in control."

I look at him in surprise as he sits down at the table with us. I’ll be the one in control?

"Give it a chance, Cassia. We have found a good therapist I am sure you will get along with. If you don't, we'll find you someone else. That's how it works. It's all about you." Nick pushes his glasses up he nose, squinting slightly at me as he does so. I can tell he’s making an effort not to look at Emmy’s hand that I now have in a choke hold.

Eh, I don't really like how that sounds. I don't want that kind of attention. I take a breath but it's shaky, betraying my nerves.

"Her name is Siobhan," Emmy says, leaning forward a little. "She is in her early thirties, and she specializes in teenagers like you. Honestly, she reminds me a lot of Jackie."

Like me? What does she mean by that?

"We have good hope that she will understand you," Nick adds, not seeing or ignoring my confusion. "She has a good résumé, has helped many others."

"Just wait and see," Emmy says, smiling gently. "Is it okay with you if I call in Monday to set up an appointment? It would be after Thanksgiving, I think."

I nod, trying to swallow with a mouth that suddenly feels as dry as sandpaper.

"Relax," Nick says softly. "Therapy is all about you starting to feel safe. It sure isn't meant to scare you like this. It’ll be just how it was with Jackie."

I frown slightly. I’m not so sure about that. Jackie has frequently let me sleep in her office during our sessions or we’d sit in silence and play board games. There wasn’t much of the: “And how does that make you feel?” bit. I'd give a lot to have her back as my therapist, but I have come to understand this isn't possible. Else they would have offered it I'm sure.

But if Jackie said this is what is best for me, I have to believe her. I trust her and she would never steer me away from safety.

Right?

---

On Saturday the house is mostly empty. The twins sure are active and they are often out of the house now that they are used to the new member of their family. I wander to the kitchen, planning to make a cup of tea to take with me to the library. Emmy is at her beloved kitchen table, cookbooks stacked around her, a cup of coffee forgotten at the edge of the tabletop. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail and I can tell that she is distracted from her task as she keeps reaching up to mess it up some more.

"Cassia, sweetheart," she smiles brightly at me. "How are you today?"

I nod, smiling. I'm surprisingly okay. I return the question with a nod and she beams back at me.

"I was looking through recipes for Thanksgiving this year. I always try to make something new besides the classic things.” She gestures to the mountain of cookbooks around her. I have to admit I’m in a bit of a pickle as way, way too many things sound delicious. Want to help?"

My answering grin speaks volumes and after fixing myself a cup of coffee I join her at the table, leafing through full color, expensive and luscious looking cook books. I marvel at the dishes that are shown in bright pictures and can't help but licking my lips every now and again when a particularly appealing image comes into view.

"How about this?" Emmy asks every once in a while, asking my opinion on this dish and that. I do the same, sometimes pushing a cookbook a bit too excitedly towards her. Emmy, of course, doesn’t seem to mind.

We work to put a four-course meal together, from appetizer to dessert.

"I think I’ll make some ice cream again," She proclaims with glittering eyes and I smile back, remembering all too well the heavenly taste of the stuff I had on my first day here. "Is there anything you'd like to make? Something you think you're good at? Although just an apple pie like you made would be delicious—unless of course you want to make that cheesecake again?"

I can tell she's thinking about her ice cream combined with my apple pie. But I am thinking about something else, too. Something I haven't done in ages, but something I'd like to do again.

Marzipan. I sign it out letter by letter and Emmy smiles. "That's tricky to make. Have you done it before?"

I nod enthusiastically…and maybe a bit smugly.

"It would be wonderful to have that, too. Would you like to add it to the dessert?"

I think, biting my lip. I have an idea but that would mean that Emmy can't know about it, either.

Can I leave it a surprise? I am shaking when I sign my question, but Emmy shows me almost all her teeth as her smile splits her face in half.

"Sure sweetheart. Let me know when the kitchen is off limits."

I nod and smile back. Excitement is making my heart flutter.

I am doing a lot of smiling today, it seems.

"So, I was thinking I wanted to start with the Thanksgiving groceries today," Emmy continues. "It's always so damned crowded in the supermarket on the day itself. Would you like to come with me?"

I nod once more and when we have made a list of the things we can buy in advance, enter the garage. Emmy smiles when I take the passenger seat without her having to prompt me and we're off.

It's crowded in the supermarket, but I try to ignore it as well as I can. I get the ingredients for marzipan too, cringing when I notice what the almonds will cost.

"Don't worry," Emmy soothes, catching me as I try to put them back. "Any idea what cooking for a family of five costs on a daily basis? On Thanksgiving we indulge. Try to enjoy it too, okay? It’ll be fun!"

When we arrive back at the quiet house I notice what a strain the crowded supermarket has put on me. I am exhausted when I finish clearing away the stuff we bought. I sigh a bit heavily and go to make myself some tea.

"Thank you, Cassia," Emmy says genuinely. "It's so nice that you always help me with this."

Does Emmy realize how much she is helping me, too? Briefly I wonder if I could do something, like holding her hand again in thanks, but I decide against it. After a moment, I simply sign ‘thank you’ and make sure that I am showing as much emotion as I can out of my eyes. I pray that she understands.

It's so far out of my comfort zone to move like this but Emmy smiles so brightly she could light up the room.

We watch a movie that night, something that holds it between action and humor. I even smile at some of the jokes, unable to prevent the corners of my mouth from curling upwards.
Josh and Iona are out at the movie theater. Declan and I are in the living room on opposites sides of the couch, as are Nick and Emmy. Declan is bored by the movie, playing with his phone instead, having mentioned that he’s seen the movie about a million times.

During a commercial break, he looks up casually. "Can Michael come over tomorrow?"

"Sure," Nick replies with a shrug. "Will he stay for dinner?"

Declan runs a lazy hand through his messy hair. "Let me ask him." He turns his attention back to the phone, fingers flying over the buttons at rapid speed. Before the commercials are over, he has a reply. "Nah. He’s got plans with Jess."

I wish I knew at what time he will come over, but I don't dare to ask. We finish the movie and I go to my room early, wanting the quiet after so much time in the presence of others. When I reach my room, I head over to my desk and dig up paper and a pencil and start drawing in preparation for Thanksgiving.

---

Michael is tall and broad with sandy blond hair pulled back in a man bun and piercing green eyes. I hear his voice before I see him. It's low, but light, and even though I don't know what he and Declan are talking about, it's clear they are good friends.

I’m in the kitchen when I hear him enter the house via the garage. Hurrying to fix my tea I plan to run back to my room and hide out as long as he is here.

Emmy, who has been in the garden, steps inside from the porch, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Well hello Michael, good to see you again!" She smiles.

"Mrs. James," He beams back at her. "Were you working in your garden?"

I can just see him from where I am, but he hasn't noticed me yet.

"I was," Emmy replies. "I've been neglecting it lately. Since the winter is just about underway, I figured it was time to get everything bedded down."

"Oh Mrs. James, I am pretty sure that is impossible. The garden will bloom under your touch, even in winter."

Jesus, this Michael is a sweet talker all right. I almost snort at the absurdity.

"Come on man, what do you want to drink?" Declan asks, interrupting the conversation. He sounds a bit annoyed, which almost makes me snort again. Apparently, his friend being a flirt is not new news.

"Coke. The usual.” Michael replies. His voice sounding a bit louder as the group makes their way to the kitchen.

Damn. I’m stuck.

"Oh shi—Oh! Hey, Cassia." Declan greets me easily hiding his surprise as he steps into the kitchen.

"Cassia?" Michael asks wonderingly stepping forward so he comes into full view. He glances around until his gaze lands on me. "Well, hello there! So you are the newbie. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Michael."

Thankfully, he doesn't come further forward, and we stand there for a moment as behind me Declan gets drinks.

"You can say 'hi' back to me now, darlin’." He coaxes on a twang.

I arch a brow at him and squint a little. Something isn’t–

"Ah, she can't actually," Declan says as he tosses a can of soda at his friend and gently places a steaming mug in front of his aunt. "Cassia doesn't speak much."

"She doesn't?" He turns to me, grinning a little too widely. "How come? You too shy?"

I'm unable to answer.

"Leave it. C'mon, let's game." Declan intones a bit harshly. He strolls out of the kitchen and takes Michael with him to the living room, but his shoulders are set a bit too stiffly to be considered entirely relaxed.

I stay, stunned.

"You okay?" Emmy asks softly.

I nod again, but I haven't blinked since Michael left my sight. There's something off about him. Or perhaps he's just cocky. Either way, I want away, so I take my tea and excuse myself to my room, where I play the CD Declan gave me once again.

Iona comes knocking around four, entering my room with a big smile on her face. She's holding something and when she holds out her hands, I see it's chocolate. "Want some?"

It has been ages since I had chocolate. Hesitatingly, I accept it from her.

"Eat it before it melts. It’s so good. I found this little shop that I think you would love. I’d like to take you soon, maybe next weekend?" She encourages. Then she steps up to the window and starts to look outside, very obviously trying to give me a chance to eat the candy.

Surprising myself, I join her and look out over the now barren trees as I slip some chocolate in my mouth and suck on it.

My eyes close momentarily on their own volition. This chocolate is really good.

"I know right," Iona says softly. "I am seriously addicted to this stuff. Want more?"

I nod, my taste buds already craving more of the sweetness. I've never been much of a sweet tooth, but this chocolate is just plain good.

I let it melt in my mouth, savoring the taste.

"You've changed a bit." Iona muses when I swallow.

I look at her, wondering what she means. "You seem more relaxed. You smile sometimes. You're not scared shitless anymore when someone calls your name, and you eat and drink little bits with others around you. I’m going to guess you feel better, too?"

I think for a few long moments about her question. I do feel better. Lighter, less oppressed. So I nod, and she smiles.

"You know what would be awesome?" She asks, her eyes lighting up with her idea.

On guard immediately, I shake my head slowly.

Iona makes me sit on the bed and plops down next to me and begins to talk.

Within a couple minutes, I’m laughing.

POV: Emmy

Cassia Sinclair truly is the most special person I have ever met in my life. Strong as a rock, even if she doesn't see herself that way, honest, polite, smart, sweet, caring. I can vividly remember the day Nick came to talk to me about this girl.

There was never any doubt that I wanted to give her a home, but had I known it would be like this, I would have tried to speed up her arrival perhaps.

Of course, there have been hard moments, but above all I can see her remarkable progress and the enormous effort she puts into everything she does. Every time she tries to communicate, my heart soars a little. Every time she does something for herself, even if it is such a simple thing as making tea, it makes me glow.

I can sense the need in her to be normal, to be at ease as a member of this household. I can sense her disappointment when she realizes the things she won't or can't do. When words elude her, or when she realizes she is still unwilling or unable to do something with us present, I sometimes feel as frustrated as she.

More than once I have fought the urge to hug her, to cradle her in my arms and to assure her that it's okay, that she just needs time and assure her that with us, she can take all the time she needs. But I can't touch her. More than anything I have to respect the boundaries she has set, even though it hurts me to do so.

Unfortunately, I can also sense her fear. The deeply ingrained fear to do something wrong, to meet violence, to be hurt in one way or the other. My mother instincts go into overdrive when I see her like that but once again, we have to play by her rules. It’s so very, very different than my experience with Marlie; who, more than anything, needed touch and physical affection. That lovely little girl needed it like air to breathe and even as she got more and more sick, the need grew so that she and I were barely separated. I wish in my deepest of hearts that Cassia would allow something like that to grow between us. I can see that there is a desire in her that is starting to grow, with each little touch and held hand I can see that bridge being built.

Nick tells me that only time can teach her that she is in fact safe here. In the meantime we shall keep on reaching out to her, show her time and again that nothing will happen.

The poor girl. I try not to think of the horrors she has endured but it is visible in her eyes, her face, the way she moves. She tends to fold in on herself, trying to make herself invisible. She's not only not speaking, but she’s also quiet. She is so very careful to not make any sound at all, and I cannot suppress a shudder when I think how she has come to act like this.

But she is doing better. Even after a few short weeks she is doing so much better. I still marvel when I think back at the few times she has allowed me to touch her, the last event having been at the kitchen table. Her reaching out to me had been a small miracle in my eyes. It seems that only when she is most vulnerable, she will allow herself the luxury of contact.

Nick doesn't agree with me on this. He thinks that Cassia automatically associates all touch with pain. I am not so sure. I think Cassia is perfectly capable of distinguishing violence with friendly touch. I think, however, Cassia is afraid, unwilling to receive friendly touch, too. What her reasons behind this are, I don't know, but I do know that when she accepts it, it feels like she is indulging herself.

She wants it. I am sure she does. She just does not know how to allow herself to enjoy it.

I would like to let her know that it is okay for her to initiate these forms of contact, but I am not sure how. Words don't seem adequate to convey that it is okay for her to want physical contact. She is so scared to open up to things like that. I think she feels this makes her weak. Sometime during her life she must have decided it is better to do things on her own and as such she doesn't let anybody in.

It must be such a burden for her to carry.

Perhaps if Delcan and Iona were more affectionate with me, Cassia would see that it is okay to touch, to embrace. But the twins are young adults or almost so and they are past the hugging stage. Not to mention that although Nick and I have raised them as our own…they are not truly our children. I can hardly ask them to give a good example without giving away Cassia's past — something she has asked us not to do.

Declan and Iona are not naïve, though. Although they do not discuss it with us often, I know they have a hunch. Especially Declan, who came to talk with us last week to ask about Cassia. He wanted to know if and when she would start therapy. There is something deep inside him that is drawn to the girl. I can only wonder how this will develop and hope it doesn't go wrong. But he seems patient and understanding and as such I do not feel the need to warn him. I think Cassia is fairly at ease around him and it shows when he sits on the porch with her more and more often.

I see them exchanging a phone from time to time and I think they are communicating through the device. The way she looks at him, with wonder, awe, curiosity but also a hint of fear and a lot of hesitancy, makes me think she sees something in him she doesn't fully realize yet.

I smile when I think that perhaps all is not lost for this girl, that perhaps there is something in her that is capable of giving and receiving love. And if my nephew can bring that about in her, I will not try to prevent it. I just hope they won't get hurt. Declan is my blood and I consider Cassia my family already. It would break my heart if they were in pain.

Perhaps therapy can help Cassia to move along. I was over the moon when she agreed to try. I do realize that her motives are not the right ones, and that she is most likely to do it for us, out of fear for repercussions, than for herself. As far as I understand she doesn't seem to grasp the concept of abuse, doesn't see that she is a victim.

It is not up to me to tell her this. It is up to her to heal and accept who she is as the person that she is now because of the many horrific things that have happened to her. I sometimes thing that she has pushes it all away, as if it happened to someone else. I do not think I could tell her the truth even if I tried. She probably wouldn't believe me and if she would I would not have the knowledge and skills to catch her when she falls. I am hoping that therapy will provide this safety net for her, a safe place where she can tell her story and come to terms with it.

We have such faith in Siobhan. Having a past similar to Cassia's, Nick and I think she will understand how Cassia thinks and acts. As a certified peer counselor, she has helped countless girls to come to terms with their past and to get their life back on track. We have not told Cassia, yet that Siobhan has such a specific history in which she will be able to relate. We think it is best that Siobhan disclose that information when the time is right.

We can only hope that Cassia will try the therapy and give Siobhan a chance.

---

Thanksgiving is approaching rapidly. Cassia's love for cooking shows once more when I ask her to help me to fix a menu for the holiday. She also comes with me to do groceries, something she really seems to enjoy even though I can tell she hates to be in the supermarket. I think she really enjoys being able to help me out, and once more I am reminded of Jackie’s words. “Before you know it, she takes over your entire housekeeping.” I have been careful to prevent that from happening as indeed it seemed that Cassia was prone to make herself useful in the house. I didn't always know how to handle her obvious disappointment when I forbid her to do something. In the beginning, and especially before she went to school, she often looked lost when there wasn't anything she could do.

I wonder if she has any hobbies. She seems to enjoy reading, but she never seems to be calm enough to really enjoy it. Always on guard, looking around her every few minutes to gauge the situation in the room. I'm not sure if she notices she does this herself. It would be so nice for her to have a hobby she can lose herself in. I wonder if there is anything that could keep Cassia occupied for hours every week, if not every day.

The burning curiosity that surrounds both the violin and the paper cranes has almost caused all of us to ask Cassia about them, but I know we all fear spooking her into abandoning the activities. When I’d found the battered violin deep within the corner of Cassia’s closet, I’d brought it out to Nick in hopes that maybe, just maybe we’d be able to provide her with a way to express herself. He’d told me of the times that she seems to sink completely into music and when Declan plays she tends to hide out somewhere she can listen in peace. I’d told him of the way she’d reacted to the opportunity to carry on her studies in school. It seemed like something we could finally reach her through. I’d placed the instrument back where I’d found it, and simply waited anxiously for Cassie to mention it, even in passing, but no such luck. Although Nick swears, some nights in the wee morning hours he can hear her tuning it, or practicing. He says that no matter the song he hears, it sounds filled with sorrow.

The cranes mystify us all though. Cassia doesn’t ever look happy when she folds one or looks at them hanging about her room. Instead she had a contemplative look on her face. As if she has asked them for a favor and they have not delivered in a way she wanted. I know that Declan has tried to add a few to her collection—I ‘d caught him watching a YouTube instructional video instead of studying on night—and Iona has helped her hang them up or, if Cassia doesn’t deem a certain crane worthy, it goes into a decorative box Iona gifted her. But all this has happened without any kind of explanation. It just is.

It's just Cassia.

She enjoys doing homework, something that struck me as odd as first until Nick offered it might provide her a good form of distraction from other things. Cassia enjoys cooking. The pies she made last week were excellent. The 'thank you' gesture they held was evident. She will help with Thanksgiving dinner this year. To be honest, I'd rather have her help me, even if it is out of guilt or responsibility, than any of my other family members who simply cannot see the joys of cooking and will do it with evident displeasure.

Cassia wants to make marzipan. She hasn't told me when she wants to offer it to us, and I wonder what she is planning to do with it. It thrills me she has come so far as wanting to surprise us with something. A few weeks ago it would have been inconceivable to her to make something we don't know of beforehand. Even with the pies she was careful to ask permission.

She seems calmer, more at ease hopefully. I knew it would take time for her to relax, to get used to a new environment, but she has done surprisingly well. She's so obviously trying to reach out, even if she is not sure how to do it. I am beginning to become more at ease too in the house, no longer worrying every minute about her wellbeing.

However, when I see Michael’s car pulling up in the garage from the garden where I am working, I hurry my way inside. I don't know how Cassia will react to visitors, especially men.

I step into the house just as Michael reached the kitchen. Going to college in Seattle, he's only one year older than Delcan and Iona. They see each other regularly in the weekends. I like the guy, even though he's such a sweet talker it makes my teeth hurt.

Today is no exception as he relentlessly showers me with compliments. When he approaches Cassia I can see her tense up, but Declan handles the situation remarkably well, albeit a little on the harsh side. I can see the stiff set of his shoulders as he steps out of the room with Michael in tow, I arch a brow at him and notice the slight pinkness of his high cheekbones. I decide on keeping the small smile to myself. Declan is not the most forth coming with his feelings but it seems he’s a bit more protective of Cassia then a “foster-brother” ought to be.

When Michael has gone with Declan, Cassia speeds from the kitchen with her tea, leaving me chuckling, but I feel sad. In all likelihood she will never be completely at ease around men. She has been hurt too much, let down too often.

Only time will tell if she can ever heal. And I must say I wonder if therapy truly is the best solution we can offer right now. My gut feeling says that time and a loving family can do more than any therapist would do, but I don't speak my mind. In the end, she will need therapy to fix what we cannot heal. She will need it for those tough conversations that she needs to have with herself.

On Monday, I make a start with the first preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner. I bake the bread I use for the Turkey stuffing, and if I make it a few days earlier it will be older, which makes the taste richer. Probably drawn in by the smell or by perceiving somebody is working in the kitchen, Cassia's curiosity wins over her reluctance, and she comes to check out what is going on. I greet her with a warm smile, and I don't even really have to invite her if she wants to join, because before I have finished my question she has moved to the sink to wash her hands and starts to knead the dough, a tiring, hard task you need to have strong hands and arms for.

Cassia has both, I have noticed this by the sheer weight of the groceries she can lift with ease. I wonder how she got this physical strength, especially considering her build is decidedly tiny and she has been malnourished for a long time. She keeps her arms carefully covered, only the barest bit of sleeve rolled up to keep the dough from dirtying her clothes. Although as she works, a number of her scars are visible as the sleeves creep up. I try to keep my face neutral, but as always the thought of someone so viciously hurting this girl brings tears to prick at the corners of my eyes.

She works at a comfortable pace and from my peripheral vision I can see how her face turns from tight and tense to a more serene expression as she gets lost in the motions of kneading. When I move to her to add a little salt she steps back but doesn't seem as startled as usual.

"You seem to feel better." I observe softly, as I prepare the form the bread will be baked in.

She nods without looking up from the bowl with dough.

"I'm glad." I continue.

She looks up at me now, an incredulous look flashing over her face before she can put it in a more neutral expression.

"I really am," I reassure her. "And if you need anything, or want anything, you know you can come to me, right?"

She nods, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. Her tell is the way her tawny eyes dart down to her hands before she looks up again. The gym incident is a painful example of how she still feels she cannot come to us with these serious problems. She would rather risk detention and retribution than tell us beforehand of her insecurity. I berate myself for what happened. I have lain awake for nights after I went to pick up Cassia from school. I should have known that she would not be able to go to gym class, instead I trusted she would set her own boundaries.

Painful as it is to admit, she can't do this. She cannot say 'no' and not because she doesn't speak. There is no way she can refuse anything somebody asks from her. It is easy to abuse this trait and I hope that in school nobody will take advantage of her.

Cassia will not tell us when things go too far. I think she is afraid of punishment if she tells us there is something she doesn't want. I have talked about this with Nick, and he agrees, although he keeps telling me I should not keep blaming myself for what happened. It happened, and it was solved elegantly. Also, he thinks incidents like this will show her that her life is different now. Perhaps she will learn from this she can trust us.

Too afraid to say 'no.'

I wonder how we can ever teach her that 'no' means 'no' in this house, and not a delayed 'yes.'

Soft footfalls approach the kitchen and I know it's Declan before I see him. Everybody has a different walk in this house, and I can always hear who it is just by the sound of their footsteps. My nephew, despite his size, can be quite sneaky. Something that reminds me so much of his father—my brother—that it hurts even to this day. Declan used to sneak out of bed for more treats and as he got older to play video games, much how his father used to sneak out of the house to star gaze or play with our childhood dog. Bittersweet memories, ones that Declan doesn’t ask for very much anymore.

He wears his sorrow deep in his heart, where no one else can reach it. Much like how Cassia holds every bit of herself.

The girl in question seems startled at first when he greets us in the kitchen, but she focuses on the dough again and doesn't even step aside when Declan brushes by her to get something to drink from the fridge. This tiny development strikes me as huge, but I don't want to comment on it, afraid it will bring them both discomfort.

"Are you baking bread?" He asks as he sips from the bottle of water he took. He cranes his neck a bit to peak at the other things about the kitchen, curiosity sparking those blue eyes.
Cassia nods as I answer, "Yes. It's for the stuffing."

Declan chuckles a bit. "I wonder what would happen if we just had burgers for Thanksgiving. Would the world end?"

"I'm sure it wouldn't," I say, smiling at my nephew as he leans back against the cooking island, at ease with his long, lean form. We know that hasn't always been the case. He was positively gangly when he was younger. "But the tradition is nice." I mutter. I had a feeling this conversation would come up again this year.

"So what are we having this year, besides the turkey?" Declan asks. I notice his gaze flashing from Cassia’s face to her hands and back again before quickly looking about the room again.

"You sound like your uncle," I tease him. "You'll see what's there. Patience is a virtue."

"Will you make ice cream? Just so I know if I need to reserve some space for dessert."

"I will," I say and smile when he fist pumps in the air. "And perhaps Cassia will make a pie or two, if she wants to?"

"Oh, will you? Autie’s ice cream with your apple pie. Heaven." He makes the universal chef’s kiss motion and give Cassia his crooked grin. Does he know how bright his eyes get when he talks to her?

Cassia looks up at his hopeful gaze and finally nods once, insecure.

"Awesome," Declan grins wider. "I'd like to reserve a piece in advance."

Cassia looks down, shy, but smiles as she gives a firm nod.

Declan's grin turns victorious, and he shoots me a knowing gaze when he turns to leave the kitchen.

"I'll go now. I don’t want to jinx the good kitchen juju–I can't even make hot milk." He jokes as he leaves. Cassia's head shoots up and she gapes at him, her eyes wide. Declan turns and smiles wide once more as he winks at her, leaving her stunned.

My curiosity flares. This is obviously something they both know about. What could have happened that he can joke about this and she seems almost scandalized about him bringing it up? Perhaps they are closer than I originally thought.

Cassia places the bowl with the finished dough before me on the counter and pulls me from my thoughts. Her face looks hopeful, but expectant, and she shyly signs her question at me. I tell her that the dough looks perfect.

To my surprise she lingers in the kitchen, making us tea as I place the bread dough in the pre-heated oven. When we sit down at the kitchen table to chat for a bit, she looks almost lost. Unable to read her mood, I slide my hand forward on the table, seeking out a form of contact, connection. I want her to know that she can ask for contact any time and after having discussed it with Nick, we agreed we should show, not only tell.

Cassia looks at my hand for a long time and bites her lower lip, a gesture that often means she is thinking hard about something. Just as I start hoping she might return the contact; she sits back and looks away. The connection is broken, and I sit back too, sipping my tea to hide my disappointment.

I cannot blame Cassia for refusing contact, but deep down I am so sure, so certain that if she would allow a hug, it would work miracles in her healing process.

I just wish, as I have for many, many days and nights, that I could get a peek into her thoughts.

On Tuesday she comes down after eating to help me start on the other preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner. We need to marinate things and Cassia surprises me when she digs up ingredients to make the marinade herself instead of out of a package. We work away in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and letting them soak in the rich tasting fluid.

When we are done and the foods are in the fridge, she once more makes tea for the both of us. These tiny gestures show me how considerate she is of others, even though she chooses to only show it in ways she feels are safe.

I am so proud of her that she has started to drink in our presence. As if she has decided one moment it wouldn't do her any harm. She doesn't wait anymore for me to look away to take a quick sip, instead she just drinks, albeit reluctantly, but she drinks.

"You really enjoy cooking, don't you?" I ask, trying to make conversation on a safe topic.

She nods, a tiny smile lighting up her face.

"Did you cook Thanksgiving dinners before?" I drop my chin onto my palm, making sure to make a bit of a show of getting comfy. She watches each movement with calculated assessment.

I sense it's the wrong question before she reacts. She shakes her head and looks away, uncomfortable. I grumble inwardly as I watch her shoulders tense up a bit.

I have to ask. I have to know.

"Did you not celebrate Thanksgiving before?" Keeping my question vague I hope to not upset her.

Cassia presses her lips together and shakes her head again, still not looking at me.

"Then this will be your first," I say softly, brightly, casually. I hope this conveys that her past is firmly in the past and we shouldn’t have to worry about it getting in the way anymore. "We always try to make it a family day."

I wonder if I should bring up if she wants to join us for dinner. It would hurt my heart if she were to eat in her room. There has to be a way to get her to join us Thursday.

As there is no time like the present, I take a breath to speak, but I am interrupted by Iona who is raising her voice in the living room. Cassia's eyes widen and she is completely alarmed immediately as her head whips into the direction of the voice.

"Dude, I told you, no cheats!"

"I wasn't cheating!" Declan protests.

"Sure you weren't," Iona huffs in response. "I saw it Dec, you can't do that move without moding. I knew you were getting to good at this game too fast! It just came out!"

"Iona," Declan says lowly. I narrow my eyes a bit, I know that voice. He’s getting angry and will quickly use less than nice words towards his sister. "I wasn't cheating."

"You were! Why are you lying to me? Goddammit, I thought we agreed to do this together! You promised." There is a huff and I know Iona is standing above him with her arms crossed.

"You're just a sore loser." Declan spits, allowing himself to get annoyed now. He doesn't like to be called a liar.

"A sore loser?" Iona retorts, her voice rising in volume and from the corner of my eye I see Cassia tense up further, her face going pale in fright. "I wouldn't even be losing if you played fair."

"I was playing fair!" Declan shouts back. "I always play fair!"

"Oh sure." Iona huffs.

"Sake, Bug. Every time you lose from me you call me a cheater. That really is your problem, not mine." Declan’s voice is that harsh bite I wish I didn’t recognize so well despite using the age old nickname for Iona.

Just as I am about to step in, Iona walks into the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder. "You never play fair. I'm fucking done with you, Declan."

Cassia flies up from her chair when Iona rounds the corner, the chair scraping loudly on the floor, and she backs up to the far wall. She's exceptionally frightened of angry people and it shows right now again as she is pressed against the wall, the way her hands are splayed against the plaster betraying her fear.

"Iona." I say to get her attention. Despite my disappointment at their fight, I keep my voice even and calm. I don’t even move from my comfortable position in the breakfast nook. I have to show Cassia that there is nothing to fear from this little spat.

"What." She snaps at me, still upset.

"Calm down." I say simply.

"How can I be calm when Declan is fucking with me?" She asks angrily, she throws her hands up in the air and I see Cassia flinch the slightest bit. Her eyes squeezed shut before being forced open once more. Dammit.

"I'm not fucking with you!" Comes the reply from the living room.

"Language." I remind them both, but because I am apprehensive to raise my voice I am not sure Declan even hears. Finally I straighten out of my comfy slouch and angle myself, so I am clearly between Cassia and the angry teenagers across the house. From the corner of my eye I see Cassia scoot a bit more behind me as if grateful for the protection.

Iona groans, a frustrated explosion of sound that seems to scare Cassia even further.

"You are frightening Cassia, Bug." I say softly, wishing I didn't have to tell her this, but in her anger she hasn't even noticed her standing pressed against the wall.

Her gaze locks on the other girl and Cassia cowers, her eyes growing wider as she seems to stop breathing. Iona’s harsh glare freezes in place for a moment but doesn’t relax.

"Fuck!" She exclaims, then stalks out of the kitchen, up the two flights of stairs to her room. She slams the door so hard we can hear it on the ground floor. Cassia's hands come up to protect her head at the loud noise in an automatic gesture of protection.

"It's okay," I coax, wishing I had better words. I wonder idly if the women of Cassia’s past reacted just as violently as the men. Her file speaks mostly of the violence she encountered from the men, but rarely is female on female violence reported. "Iona won't hurt you. You know this sweetheart. Nothing will happen. It's okay. Take some deep breaths for me."

Cassia does as she's told, but she's near a panic attack. I wonder if I should use the counting method with her, but she doesn't seem to be in so deep this time.

Declan steps into the kitchen quickly, gaze flashing around, and halts when he sees Cassia. "Did we scare you? Oh I'm so sorry Cassia. Iona and I always fight. No big deal."

It is to her, I think, but I can't say these words out loud. I shoot a little frown his way, the only way I can show my displeasure at the moment, but he either ignores me or doesn’t see the look.

"Hey, do you want to play a game with me?" He asks. I admire how he can talk to a girl whose face is hidden behind her arms. "I promise I won't cheat this time." A laugh bubbles in his voice and to my surprise Cassia lowers her hands to look at him.

Finally, she shakes her head slowly, as if she is scared to refuse him.

Declan smiles, then shrugs. "That's okay. I'll play alone then." He disappears from the kitchen again and the sounds of the game drift from the living room once more.

"When Iona has calmed down she will apologize to you," I tell Cassia. "I do not tolerate shouting in my house. That goes for you too, Dec," I say into the direction of the living room, knowing my nephew will hear me this time. The game he has chosen is much quieter and the soothing music drifts through the rooms of the first floor.

"I know. I'm sorry Autie." He replies calmly. He's always able to let go of anger easily. Iona will probably need a few hours to calm down again. Their both hot-headed, but Iona seems to have gotten more of the flash-bang Irish anger where as Declan is a deep shimmering well that can last for days if the situation is right.

I stay with Cassia until she feels calm enough again to sit with me at the kitchen table. I make us a second cup of tea and try to talk to her, but she's quiet after her scare.

Around nine I hear my niece reappearing from her room.

"Iona is coming down." I warn Cassia gently. She doesn't look up at my words but tenses infinitesimally, wrapping her hands around her mug a little more tightly.

As I expected, Iona steps into the kitchen, looking guilty. She leans her hands on an empty chair and sighs. ”I’m so very sorry. For earlier. It was so stupid to get angry over that game."

Cassia regards her from the corner of her eye.

"Are you calmer now?" I ask Iona, genuinely curious. It’s been awhile since she’s gone off like that. I wonder if there is something else bothering her. I make a mental note to visit her after we all head to bed tonight. It may be time to pick up our nightly chats again.

"Yes. I shouldn't have exploded like that. Sorry." She repeats her words to both Cassia and I. They’re fierce with sincerity. I accept her apology with a nod, then offer her tea. Cassia nods as well and makes to scoot over a chair incase Iona accepts our invitation.

"No thanks." She hesitates for a moment before she leaves the kitchen again, her shoulders tense with an unknown load she bears.

"Something's bothering her." I say to myself, and to my surprise Cassia nods in agreement. "Would you happen to know what it is?"

She shakes her head, but she can't lie and from her behavior I can see that although she's not sure, she has a definite hunch.

"You can talk to me," I try to reassure her. "You can tell me what you think."

She shakes her head now, short, rapid movements that betray her sudden stress. She doesn't want to tell. Why not? Would she feel like she is talking behind Iona’s back?

"Okay," I say softly. "Don't tell me if you don't want to. Do you want anything else to drink?"

She shakes her head again and leaves the kitchen soon after, disappearing into the solitude of her room once more.

POV: Still Emmy

I'm so happy Cassia wants to make marzipan. I have never made it before, in fact I've rarely eaten it, but I love the taste and I know it will be a hit with the rest of the family. I have looked up the recipe and learned that it has to be made the day before consumption. Trying to be forthcoming, I ask Cassia after school on Wednesday if she wants to start on the candy tonight. The look of surprise she gives me surprises me in turn, as if she would never expect me to think along with her.

But in a way, it is true. She stopped long ago to expect things from people.

Cassia nods and we agree to work in the kitchen together again after dinner. Then she trudges up the stairs to nap.

That sole aspect of her behavior speaks volumes of how much energy it all costs her. She tries to mask it when she is with others, but she works so hard to act 'normal' and it must be draining for her. It worries me a lot, to be honest. I really am not sure if she is ready to go to school, and not only for the amount of energy it costs her. But she is doing well, I am told. I have asked the twins—and Josh– how they think she is, and I have called some teachers — Mr. Banner, Coach Gell — to ask them how she is around them.

They are positive. Mr. Banner is amazed by the way Declan and Cassia interact. They are both very smart and the assignments they have to do are never a challenge. Normally he would pair up stronger students with the weaker ones, but he won't split up Declan and Cassia, he promises me. Cassia pays attention, takes notes, and has even asked for extra homework to make up for the schooling she has missed. She's a model student, he says, and with a smile in his voice he jokes that he doesn't have to worry she will whisper behind his back in class.

Coach Gell tells me that he was amazed by the quality of the detention assignment Cassia handed in. He's not allowed to compliment her on it or grade it, but it was a nice surprise to read. She calls in at the beginning and ending of each class, working on her thesis in the library in the meantime. He tells me that now the main part of her tension has fallen away, she is a pleasant girl to be around.

But now, Cassia goes upstairs to sleep. I have called Jackie about this, and she informed me that Cassia told her once she did this too with William.

"Only," Jackie added with a sad voice, "I think she did it then because she was often awoken at night. I still do not know the extent of what happened to her, but I know for certain that man was on a hair trigger for anything at any time."

It saddens me that this girl, this beautiful and sweet girl, has been through so much.

I focus on clearing the last of the groceries away before I start making dinner. I have done all the groceries today while the teens were at school, preferring the relative quiet in the supermarket. It's mayhem on Thanksgiving itself and the chances that you can't find everything you need are very real. I always go the day before, choosing to not take Cassia after school because I was afraid it would be too stressful for her.

During dinner the atmosphere is relaxed. Cassia eats upstairs again but it seems as if every night she is more hesitant about taking her plate and leaving. I don't address it, feeling that it should be her choice to eat with us. She knows we set the table for her too, and that she is free to join any time. I just wonder how I should solve it tomorrow, for Thanksgiving.
Would it be too much to ask her to sit with us at least? Or would it be the worst form of teasing, since we will eat all this wonderful food and she won't be able to? I have to make a decision about this, soon.

"How was school?" I ask in general when we have all filled our plates and start eating. It feels incomplete without Cassia here, even though she has never joined us before.

"Good, especially now we have the rest of the week off." Declan replies, grinning.

"We have a Trig test next Tuesday though," Iona mutters. "Stupid teacher. There goes my holiday."

"I can help," Declan says, always immediately ready to assist his twin sister. "Or Cassia could. Hell, she's even better than I am."

"She's more patient, at least," Iona teases.

"Hey!" Declan exclaims, mock scandalized but laughing.

"She’s not wrong." Nick joins in good-naturedly.

"You'll do fine." I tell Iona. Math may not be her best subject, but she’s always bounced back from any mishaps.

"I got this wonderful assignment for History." Declan pipes up, as always trying to help his sister out by diverting the attention. I smile into my next bite of food, remembering that a few days ago they were at each other’s throats. Siblings. I have to blink away a sudden memory of my own brother and I.

"What’s that?" Nick asks, interested. He loves history.

"The witch hunts in Salem."

Iona snorts delicately. "That would be your idea of fun."

"No seriously, it's awesome. Not that there were people killed, of course, but the whole hysteria around it. The stories got more and more fantastical as more people were involved." Declan has always been rather fond of conspiracy theories and I’m sure he’ll find something within that subject to write about.

"When's it due?" I ask. I know nothing of the witch hunts but it pleases me that Declan seems so excited about it.

"Oh before Christmas. I have all the time in the world."

"Hey then we can watch Hocus Pocus," Iona smiles. "That was about the witches of Salem."

"Hardly!" Nick laughs. "But it was a fun movie. Let's watch it this weekend."

"Remember we are going ice-skating this Saturday." I remind them.

There is a collective mumble of excitement around mouthfuls of food. Iona brings up a story from when the twins were about six and just learning to skate. Pretty soon Nick and Declan are howling with laughter and I almost choke on my glass of wine. Their bright smiles make me wish so bad that Cassia could be sitting here with us, even if it is just to see that happiness is so easy to achieve.

After dinner Iona helps me to clear away the dishes. She doesn't do this often and when she does, it is usually because she wants to talk about something with me.

Tonight is no exception, only the topic catches me off guard. "Auntie, what happened to Cassia?"

My movements halt for a moment before I continue washing the pans in the sink. "What do you mean?"

From the corner of my eye I can see her shrug. Much, much to casual. "You know what I mean. Before she got here. What happened?"

I dry my hands on the kitchen towel and turn to her. Iona keeps putting plates in the dishwasher, ignoring my look.

"Why do you want to know?" I say softly, reaching up to put my hair into it’s usual ponytail.

I can hear her swallow before she speaks again. She still doesn't look at me. "I saw her panic twice because of a man, but she was scared of me the other day… and I’m a—well I’m a woman. In this house she's much more afraid of the men than the women. But she’s still afraid of us both…" She hesitates.

"What is your point?" I ask, fearing where this is going.

"She wasn't just beaten, was she?" The question is near silent in the space between us.

This time I need a moment to formulate an answer.

"Never mind," She says, blue eyes dark as the ocean depths. "Your silence says enough."

I know her anger isn’t directed at me, but I still feel the need to explain. "Iona," I say softly, making her look at me. "Cassia asked us to not disclose her past. Please respect that wish."

"I will," She replies, fierce once more. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more serious about a promise before in my life. "I was just… wondering is all."

Soft footsteps on the stairs signal that Cassia is coming down. Iona takes a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders as she finishes filling the dishwasher. She doesn't want Cassia to see her tension. This is remarkable and somehow it reassures me that Iona will not confront Cassia about her past.

"Hello," I greet Cassia when she steps into the kitchen. She seems to look pale. I wonder if she is worrying about something, but she's not showing the usual signs that something is on her mind.

"Are you ready to take over the kitchen?" I ask and she returns my smile, which warms my heart.

Iona leaves the kitchen to go upstairs, probably to facetime with Josh. I don't see her often downstairs anymore, but I guess that comes with her growing up. She and Josh seem happy together. I won't stand in the way of that.

Cassia insists on helping me with a lot of other dishes first. We make all we can make one day beforehand, our cheeks flushed in the heat of the kitchen. I chatter along, ask her where she learned to do this and that, and all she answers time and again, is “the internet”.

I’m not exactly sure I believe her as I notice a number of the skills she has are more natural—something a mother would teach a daughter. She loves to cook, and it shows all the more when we make more complicated dishes. The peace that she falls into while preparing the dishes reminds me of when my grandmother had taught, my brother and I to make traditional Irish meals when we were children. Again, I get lost in the thoughts of whatever happened to Cassia’s mother.

Pulling myself out of that reverie, we prepare the turkey as far as we can and when I start on the ice cream, Cassia starts on the marzipan.

It's surprisingly easy to make it, I see. She adds coloring agents and turns different portions of creamy white marzipan green, pink, red and yellow. She keeps one batch in its natural color too. I am beginning to suspect she is planning to make figures with the marzipan. She forms the almond paste into blocks and covers them, then finds a place for them in the fridge.

"Will you finish them tomorrow?" I ask curiously. I wonder too, if I can sneak in the kitchen to watch what she does with them.

She looks up at me and nods.

"I can't wait to see what you are planning," I say, unable to hide my curiosity and excitement. "I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Something flares in her eyes, but her shyness wins and she looks down again, uneasy. She helps me to clean the counter of the last remnants of our cooking spree and we sit down at the kitchen table once more with tea and some cookies.

It's becoming a ritual I rather like; I must admit.

Iona joins us at the table, followed by Declan. Nick is up in his study to finish some things; in the hopes he can enjoy a four day weekend with us.

Delcan grabs a cookie immediately; he's always been a sweet tooth. Although I like that my children are joining us, it takes away the possibility I saw to ask Cassia about the dinner tomorrow.

"All well?" Iona asks Cassia as she sits down with her mug.

Cassia nods and they exchange glances that mean more than just an inquiry after wellbeing.

"So, what will tomorrow look like?" Declan asks, cookie crumbles finding their way into a mess on the table.

"Well, you all have the day off, so you're free to do what you like. I'd like you to be home between four and five, so we can set up for the evening," I start. "I think I will spend most of the day in the kitchen, and you are all free to join and help."

Two pairs of eyes carefully look away, but Cassia meets my gaze and nods, to let me know that she'll be there to help me out.

I knew she would.

"Do you have any plans?" I ask Iona and Declan.

"Not much. The weather will be dreadful. That reminds me, I want my winter comforter. Is it in the garage?" Iona takes a mighty gulp of her tea and makes a face, just as Declan pushes over the sugar cup. Iona spoons a few heaps into her cup. They’re both sweetooths.

"Yes, to the left on the highest shelf." I reply. "Cassia, would you like a thicker comforter too? It's getting colder at night."

She hesitates for a moment considering, then nods.

"Come and get it with me. There’s no wa you’d be able to reach, I even need a boost." Iona says on a laugh, and without hesitation Cassia gets up to follow Iona toward the garage.

"Wonder if she ever says 'no'." Declan muses. I don’t think I am meant to hear this but I decide to respond anyway.

"Well, she refused to game with you yesterday. Don't eat too much sugar, Dec." I slyly move the cookies out of his reach.

He swallows his third cookie and sips his tea. "She did. She never plays, but she's really good when she does."

"Is she?" I arch a brow. I know the games that the twins often choose are not the easiest from personal experience.

"Yeah, but it's like she's afraid to play. She's afraid of so much…" He adds as an afterthought, speaking so softly I can hardly hear it.

"She's been through a lot."

"When you adopted me, what was I like? Was I scared, too?"

I think I can follow his train of thought and I think back to all those years ago, when a very tiny, black haired toddler, still more a baby than anything, looked up at me with wide, scared eyes. I was barely more than a child myself when my brother and his wife died in that car accident. It hadn’t even been a question for Nick and I to take in the twins, but it was not an easy transition for anyone.

"You were," I say softly. I have to look away as I speak. These memories are very difficult for all of us to speak about. "You were so scared you refused to open your eyes when we arrived home. And then it took you several days before you stopped crying and started eating."

"Really? I must have given you a headache." He muses as I shake my head. "How was Iona?"

I laugh at the memory. "Stoic. She looked at me like she ruled the world and refused to let me help her."

"Sounds like Bug." Declan smiles on a sigh. He reaches forward and gently taps my fingers. With a smile I turn over my hand and take his. It’s been a long, long while since I had this kind of moment with my nephew. I’m not sure when his hands got so big, or so rough. I take a moment to really look at him and I find that a man is looking back at me. One that looks too much like his father and just the tiniest bit like his mother.

I smile. Goodness. I’ve become a serious sap.

We sit in silence for a moment as we listen to Iona and Cassia reappearing from the garage and going up the stairs.

"Did you want an extra blanket?" I ask him.

Dec chuckles. "Nah, I'm hot enough at night as is."

I nod and we talk some more, but it’s all casual, about school, about his friends.

"Declan, wanna play?" Nick comes to ask.

"Oh, excellent. I’ve got that new gun from the achievement I told you about and I’m dying to use it." He grins, and after nodding at me he gets up to join my husband in the living room.

The atmosphere in the house is light, everybody is happy to have a few days off school. It seems almost a given they will go to bed later than usual. I sigh to myself, wondering how I never thought my life would ever get this way again.

Iona bounces back down the stairs and catches me just as I am about to leave the kitchen to see if I can squeeze a bubble bath in tonight.

"Hey, Auntie?" She says softly, so as not to be overheard by the boys playing in the living room.

"Yes?" I ask, pausing on the bottom step to turn to face her.

"Don't worry about Cassia and the Thanksgiving dinner, okay?" I blink in surprise, but Iona speaks before I can ask for clarity. "Trust me."

I nod, wondering what she means and if I should be worried or not.

Iona smiles and hugs me fiercely for a moment before she joins the boys in the living room, meddling with the game instantly.

Cassia is staying upstairs I think, and I go past her door on quiet toes. I’m only slightly surprised to hear the soft sounds of a violin coming from the depths behind her door. I press my hands against my heart as the music sweeps me off my feet. It’s stunning, I wish I had known that she was this talented.

There is a pause in the music as if Cassia is checking to make sure that she is not being heard. I take this moment to move quickly away and up to my own room. A bubble bath awaits me already and I send Nick a quick text as a thank you. The heart he sends back is almost immediate. I know that I am a lucky woman, but the happiness that is overflowing from my heart now seems a bit more precious.

---

Thursday is mayhem in the kitchen, but nobody knows but Cassia and I. As the others watch the parade on television, something Cassia states she does not care for, she and I cook like our lives are depending on it, and it is such a relief for me that Cassia seems to know exactly what to do. She is never in the way and her silence seems less oppressive, and more at ease as we work alongside each other. Never once need I tell her to do something, and she keeps track of different dishes at the same time. It is impressive.

Around three when we take a short break, she makes it known that she needs some time to work with the marzipan.

"You want the kitchen? I can leave." I offer dusting off my very obnoxiously festive apron. Cassia wears a matching one. I was very happy when she took it without hesitation but gave me the most incredulous look when she realized what was actually on it as decoration. I gave her the explanation “The twins made them when they were little” and that was all she needed to wrap the cloth around her. I haven’t been able to stop giggling at the crazy looking turkeys all day.

She shakes her head and points upstairs.

"You want to do it in your room?" I question, with a tilt to my head. Huh. Super-secret then.

She nods and her gaze asks for permission to do so.

I excuse her and she leaves the kitchen with her bowls of marzipan. Curiosity flares once more, but I know now that Iona is in on this tiny little plot, so Cassia doesn't have to do this alone. This eases my mind a bit because Cassia looks stressed beyond belief. Yet she seems determined to push through.

I can't wait. I do a little victory dance about the kitchen and then start work on a few additional side dishes.

Cassia is back within ninety minutes, placing a covered container in the fridge and without so much as a blink helps me to finish the last of the dishes.

Iona is hanging around, trying to help but basically simply snacking from all the delicacies that are spread out on the counter. I slap her hand away playfully and she laughs, munching and dancing out of my reach.

Cassia, as ever, looks on with wide eyes.

When we are done with all the preparations, I wipe my hands on a rag and turn to face Cassia. "We usually dress up a bit for Thanksgiving night. I am going up to change." I realize at this point I am lost. I am not even sure if Cassia has anything else but the comfortable, wide clothes she has. It's more than fine with me if she wears them, but will she even join us to begin with?

Cassia and I stare at each other for a moment. I think she knows I want to say something and is waiting expectantly. Iona speaks up the moment I take a breath in my hesitation. "Hey Cassia? Come with me. I want to show you something."

Cassia follows Iona out of the kitchen without hesitation, leaving me no time to ask or wonder why. Shrugging, I go upstairs after them and go to change in our bedroom, where Nick is changing into a dark blue button down and slacks that fit his form quite well.

"Everything ready?" He smiles at me. His stomach gives a hilarious rumble and we have a laugh.

"It is. I'm curious though. I feel like Cassia and Iona have something planned." I muse as I strip in the doorway of our closet.

Nick's eyes light up. "That makes me curious, too."

I quickly changed into dark grey slacks and a warm green sweater, complimented with a necklace Nick gave me for our anniversary some years back. I kiss my husband when I am dressed. "I'm going downstairs to prepare the table. Take your time. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Can’t wait." He replies, kissing me once more. His stomach gives another howl as I leave the room and I am still giggling about it as I walk back down the stairs.

When I go to place the first of the appetizers on the table, Iona catches my arm to stop me. "I want to show you something."

Confused by her request and wondering why she uses the same words she used on Cassia before, I follow her out of the kitchen. I see Iona looking over my shoulder, but I don't understand her gaze and don't read too much into it.

Once more, curiosity flares and I follow Iona obediently until we are in the library.

I glance around, flabbergasted. "What did you want to show me?"

She meets my gaze, then smiles. "You got me."

I nod and smile back as I realize that this was a set-up, and Cassia is now probably in the kitchen, preparing.

We wait for a few minutes, and I listen to the sounds of the others in the house. Declan, I know, always eats light during the day of Thanksgiving, so he can eat extra at dinner. He's been grumpy and mumbling to himself all day because he is hungry. I hear him moving about his room now, his step a bit heavier than usual. It's the same every year and part of the tradition.

There is a light atmosphere in the house, the buzzing excitement we always feel on Thanksgiving Day. Even Cassia seemed to be buzzing a bit earlier.

Iona disappears for a moment to check in the kitchen, probably, and comes back to me, beaming.

"Call the boys for dinner," She whispers, ushering me out of the door. "And make sure to go into the kitchen together."

She grasps my hand and squeezes it tightly for a moment, a sign of her barely contained happiness.

I call the others for dinner, and they appear at the foot of the stairs while Iona puts on some nice music. I tell the others to wait before they step into the kitchen. They look confused and bemused, but patiently wait.

Then Iona gives us a 'go' and we walk to the dining table. Chills run over my body, and I sigh a laugh when I see what Cassia has done.

Flowers. She has made marzipan flowers in different shapes and colors and placed them on each plate. When I come closer, I can see how perfect they are. Roses, tulips, daisies, gerbera's, sunflowers. They're all there.

The gasps from the others tell me they are all equally surprised. Even Iona, who was in on the plot.

"Did you make these?" Declan asks voice soft and full of surprised wonder.

Cassia nods, completely shy with our reactions. She is so tense, so worried about our reaction, but how else could we react than with utter and complete delight? Then I notice what she is wearing. A thick knitted black turtle neck with a wide collar and woolen charcoal slacks. Iona must have arranged these clothes for her. Cassia looks stunning in this attire, and I tell myself to thank Iona later for finding these clothes that are so much better than the oversized hoodies Cassia prefers, yet still hide enough of her body for her to be comfortable.

"This is amazing," Iona sighs as she sits down to look closer at her plate. "Look at that! All the petals were done separately."

We all step closer to admire Cassia's work. She must have used some sort of icing to make subtle color nuances on the petals. Everybody has a different set of flowers, with different color combinations.

"I don't want to eat this," Declan says as he looks up, his eyes wide. "That's just a waste of this art."

Cassia looks down and shrugs, uncomfortable as ever with the compliment.

"This is magnificent," Nick says softly as he picks up a flower and turns it carefully in his fingers. "Well done, Cassia. This is truly stunning."

Cassia's hand trails to her ear in a nervous gesture. She tucks her hair behind her ears, and I’m stunned to be able to see all of her face. She’s a truly lovely girl.

"Let's all sit down," I propose. Again I realize I don't know what Cassia wants tonight.

I hesitate and see how she goes to what would be her place at the table. Iona follows her and speaks softly. "You can do this. I know you can."

With a deep breath, Cassia sits down resolutely, leaving us all stunned once more.

My heart flutters and I tear up, but I try my best to beat down the tears and focus on dinner. I don't know yet if Cassia will eat, but what she has done tonight is so huge I want to shout out in my happiness.

My gaze falls on Declan and he is looking at Cassia with such pride in his eyes. This time my tears do spill down and I walk to the counter to compose myself, trying to hide my tears from the others.

"How long will they keep?" I hear Declan asking behind me.

"A day or two, but they will get hard," Iona says. "Why, you want to keep them?"

"Yeah," Declan replies. "They're too pretty to eat." There’s an emotion in his voice that has me looking at him over my shoulder once my eyes have stopped weeping. His eyes are so bright, and he’s got this smile on his face that I am sure I’ve never seen before.

"She has more," Iona says softly, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "She made more, so we all would eat these."

The others break out in laughter at Cassia's forethought, and I walk back to the table to join them in eating the marzipan.

"What is it, actually?" Declan asks as he chews. "I like it. I don’t think I’ve had anything like it before"

"It's marzipan," I reply, translating Cassia’s sign. She’s surprised me again. "Basically it's a paste made of crushed almonds and sugar."

"Excellent for my figure." Iona teases.

"Oh, Bug, like you will be thinking of your figure tonight." Declan mocks back.

Nick smiles and lifts up a marzipan rose to his mouth. "Nope. Definitely not tonight." He takes a huge bite and moans.

Cassia looks on, her face as happy as I ever saw it.

---

We have the first course of the meal after the marzipan flowers and easy conversation flows. Somehow we all seem to understand that Cassia does not want to be the center of attention and so we act like she has always joined us at this table.

She pulls at the sleeves of her new sweater, giving away her discomfort with the clothes. But she holds on strong and from the corner of my eye I can see how she sneaks a bite every now and then when nobody is looking.

She helped me cook for days on end. She made us this treat. She dressed in clothes that fit the dress code of this evening. She is sitting at the table with us. And she is eating.

More of a breakthrough I would never have dared to dream of.

I meet Nick's gaze and I can see he's equally happy, and when I look at the twins I can see they are all proud and glad. The atmosphere is light and relaxed, and we eat and chat, about everything and nothing, but happy topics in general.

When I get up to clear the plates Cassia jumps up to help. I tell her to stay seated, but she's adamant and helps me to clear away the dishes quickly and to get the turkey from the oven. The delicious smells waft into the kitchen as she opens the over door. It's perfect.

Nick comes to help to put the bird on the table, careful around the tall candles I lit earlier. He cuts the bird as is tradition and offers the first serving to Cassia. "Thank you for coming to our household and for enriching our lives. Thank you for giving us a chance to take care of you. Thank you for my family, for all the riches you give me."

Cassia is stunned, and the rapid blinking of her eyes makes me think that she is trying to hold back tears.

"It’s your turn, Cass" Declan whispers to Cassia after she has accepted the plate with the first serving of turkey. As if prompted, she reaches into her pocket and gives a folded note to Iona, who reaches over the table to give it to me.

I fold it open and recognize Cassia's handwriting immediately. "Do you want me to read it aloud?" I ask, and Cassia nods. Her blush already flares, and Iona reassures her. I swallow thickly and read.

Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for being patient with me and teaching me what I need to know. Thank you for giving me this chance. Thank you for being there.

We are all quiet for a long moment and I have to get a napkin to wipe the tears from my eyes. "Thank you, Cassia. Thank you so very much."

It's an intense and emotional moment, and it is ended abruptly by Nick’s loudly growling stomach.

Nick smiles awkwardly and gets up again to serve everyone their meat as each in turn tell the others what they are thankful for.

And then we eat. And chat. And pretend to ignore Cassia, because Cassia is eating the turkey, at our table, with all of us present.

I am so proud of her; I can't even begin to put it in words.

POV: Emmy (Part 3)

After the main course Cassia, Iona and I clear the table as the others move to the living room to watch the game.

During half time I serve dessert — my homemade ice cream with Cassia's apple pie. Cassia herself declines her portion with a small smile and pats her belly to indicate she's full. The others attack the last course of the meal however and for a while all that can be heard are appreciative moans and sighs, and the soft clatter of cutlery on plate.

Cassia spends the rest of the evening with us and even stays with us as we start a game of Catch Phrase after the game on TV is done. Iona easily takes Cassia by the hand, so to speak, and simply announces to us that she and Cassia are a team.

Nick and Declan throw in fake protests, but I can see even Cassia can tell that they are joking. She looks so relaxed, somehow. Her cheeks are rosy with excitement and her eyes are wide and sparkling.

I hope this doesn't backfire. But I am no fool and I won't expect this progress to burst forward with equally big steps from now on, either. Very probably she will lock herself up in her room all day tomorrow, to recover from the time she spent with us down here today. I won't mind. What she has given us today is the best present I could ever have gotten. I am grateful indeed.

Cassia looks on, the perfect spectator to our game. She smiles with us when somebody makes a joke and follows each player with her eyes.

She surprises us all when Iona gets a difficult word she doesn't know how to exactly describe, and Cassia writes down the correct answer at lightning speed, once more showing how much she secretly knows. We all burst out in laughter when Iona blurts out Cassia's answer just before her time is up, and she gets the points.

"Well done," Iona smiles at Cassia, and as can be predicted Cassia looks down, hiding behind her hair and shying away from the compliment.

I hope she will learn soon that she is accepted exactly as she is here. And that compliments are just that — compliments.

---

On Friday Cassia barely shows herself, as expected. I bring Cassia lunch and later dinner in her room, assuring her again and again I don't mind, that I am proud of what she did yesterday and that it is completely up to her if she wants to join us again. She is always welcome. But right now she needs some time alone and I understand.

The house is quiet. Nick is outside playing with the boys—Declan, Michael, and Josh– and the girls—Iona, Tatiana, and Marissa–are shopping.

Black Friday. I would have gone but I don't want to leave Cassia alone in the house with all the men, even though I know she'll be perfectly safe. I also don't want to put Cassia through the immense stress that Black Friday brings. I'll go again next year if the opportunity arises.

Iona comes home well after dinner, utterly exhausted but with piles and piles of bags and rosy cheeks. She shows Nick and I what she bought, and goes to bed a bit early, still overwhelmed by the chaos of the day I'm sure.

The boys have passed out in various positions around the living room each suffering their own food coma. It’s so funny that I have to snap a few pictures on my phone to show them later.

Nick and I enjoy a quite night together in our room before we give over to the lasting food comas and fall asleep.

On Saturday morning Iona and I sit together in the living room, and I know she will want to talk about the holiday dinner.

"Thank you for everything," I start the conversation. "I take it you helped Cassia in planning the surprise?"

Iona nods, beaming. "I did. I went to see her a few days ago and she ate chocolate with me. That brought me to the idea of getting her to join us at Thanksgiving dinner."

"You did well. We all really enjoyed it. I hope it didn't stress her out too much."

"She was tense and nervous. But we had a really good talk and I think I convinced her that the world wouldn't end if she tried and failed. I told her that I knew she would feel really good when she tried and succeeded." Iona says as she pulls a blanket onto her lap and snuggles under it. It’s a really chilly day and I take my pick of our blankets before bringing one onto my lap as well.

I smile. "It seems she is getting over her reluctance to eat around others."

Iona thinks for a moment before she replies. "She still won't eat in school though. I've tried and tried but she just won't."

"That is unfortunate,” I muse at this news. “But it is her choice. Even though I don't approve, she has done it like this for a long time. She is used to being without food for longer periods of time."

"It's like anorexia, but different." Iona mumbles, clearly a bit worried.

I look at my niece. Always so perceptive, she sometimes acts so much wiser than her age. She really wants to go into fashion and design, but I bet she would make a very good psychologist if she wanted to be. I decide to tell her the truth.

"It's about control."

Iona smiles humorlessly, picking at a spot on the blanket in her lap. "I know that. Just like her not sleeping or her not talking. Did you know she sleeps in the tub sometimes?"

I blink in shock. "What?"

"She does."

"How do you know?"

"Because I heard her once when I got out of bed to use the bathroom. I heard her moving around and walked up to her door, to listen if she was okay. Then I heard her go into the bathroom and then I swear I heard her stepping into the tub, but there was no sound of water at all. All got silent after that. I think she sleeps in the tub sometimes." She frowns and tilts her head away, almost as if she is ashamed that she shared this information with me. Like she’s betrayed the protection she promised Cassia.

This piece of knowledge unsettles me and I make a mental note to talk to Nick about this sometime soon.

"I think she feels safer there," Iona says sadly. "It can't be very comfortable, though."

"No," I agree, lost in my thoughts for a bit.

We're quiet for a moment, both trying to imagine Cassia sleeping in a bathtub.

"So, did you notice Cassia's clothes yesterday?" Iona asks then, obviously changing the subject.

"I did," I smile slightly, still a bit on edge, but willing to drop it for now. "You did a wonderful job on that. At least, I take it this was your doing?"

"It was," Iona smiles. "I was so surprised she actually accepted them. I sometimes really feel she just wants to be normal; you know?"

"That makes sense. Going through the motions of this life sometimes seems a struggle for her."

"Her fear must be paralyzing."

I nod slowly. "That's why we are happy she is willing to try therapy."

"Oh she is?" Iona's eyes light up. "That is wonderful."

"It won't magically heal her." I warn. Iona can sometimes jump the gun when she gets excited. I’d rather her let Cassia heal on her own time.

"No, I realize," My niece replies. "But perhaps she would consider talking again someday."

I hesitate, not sure how to respond. “Maybe…” I offer and Iona drinks up my reply with all the hope in the world.

We spend the rest of the early afternoon talking, and the topic shifts from Cassia to other subjects, varying from school, to siblings, to friends, to fashion. Always fashion.

I end up going up with Iona to her room to see the new green dress she has been working on. The girl really has a knack for design. The dress is going to be very pretty when she is finished.

"I'd like to finish it before Christmas but see this?" She points to an intricate piece of fabric at the shoulder. "This is taking way more time than I thought. It’s a bit frustrating because I can see the design in my head, but executing it is easier said than done."

"Don’t I know that feeling.” I mutter, thinking about work for the first time in weeks. Taking a short leave of absence was the right thing to do when Cassia arrived, but I have been feeling the itch in my fingers lately to get working on a project. I’ll have to contact my boss sometimes soon to let them know I’m getting ready to come back.

“Why don’t you work on it now?" I smile at Iona. "We'll Christmasify the house tomorrow, so I think you won't have much time then."

"Oh yes!" She exclaims, clapping her hands. "Oh, Auntie, can I go into the storage now and see what we have?"

I smile at her exuberance. "Sure. Why don't you ask Cassia to join you?"

"God I love you," Iona beams, and she's off, leaving me in her room as she bounces up to Cassia's bedroom door.

I don't hear them until I call around the house for dinner. Cassia shyly gets the tray, indicating she wants to eat alone. I nod and smile at her, letting her know it's all right.

During dinner we talk a bit about Cassia's sudden surge forward during Thanksgiving, and her retreat afterwards.

"I'm sure she'll come out again," Nick says. "She has experienced it now, so perhaps she'll want to do it again."

"Perhaps we should ask her?" Declan asks. "If she wants to join? Make her feel welcome?"

"But you'll have to make sure she knows she can refuse." I remind them. It’s important to keep reminding them of her boundaries.

"Of course," He replies as if I have said something completely obvious. "Could we try to do it tomorrow? If we wait too long it might just become harder for her."

"We'll see," I consider. "We have ice skating tonight. I'd like to see how she'll hold herself."

"I think she will surprise you." Declan says and a look is exchanged between the twins. "If you see her at school… I think it will be the same at the rink."

"What does she do at school?" I ask, curious.

"You'll see," Iona replies for Declan with a glimmer in her eyes. "You'll see."

After the early dinner we pile into Nick’s larger truck—plenty of room for Cassia to feel comfortable sitting next to someone—and head into the city. Nick drives and I sit next to him. Iona is in the back with Cassia, chatting animatedly. Declan popped his headphones on as soon as we sat in the car and I wonder what he could be listening to.

On our way to Rochester I try to warn Cassia that the ice rink is very popular and will be crowded simply because it is the biggest one around. Cassia looks at me when I look over my shoulder and she nods with wide, serious eyes.

I wonder what the twins meant when they told me not to worry about Cassia in a crowd.

When we arrive at the ice rink I find that I am starting to become nervous for Cassia, but she just looks forward, huddled in her thick coat, and follows us without blinking.

Iona stays near and watches Cassia closely, guiding the way without coddling her. When we enter the building I start to realize what Declan and Iona were talking about. We walk up to the counter to collect skates and I look over my shoulder to see if we are still within our group of five, and see how Cassia weaves fluidly around the people with a grace I never expected from her.

My mouth falls open when I see her, and as Nick wraps his arms around my waist I know he is seeing it too.

"We told you," Declan says as he comes up next to me skates in hand. "She's okay in crowds."

"Indeed," Nick agrees, still looking at Cassia as she makes her way up to us, slipping off her coat and handing it to Iona.

It's no problem at all to find our way to benches to slip on the skates now we know that Cassia is all right. Something feels off with her however, but since I cannot put my finger on it, I don't put too much thought into it. She is here with us.

Iona helps Cassia tie up her skates tightly and then squats before her. They look like they’re having a very serious conversation for a moment and Cassia pales a bit. Before I can head over to ask what is going on, Iona reaches out her hands and Cassia very carefully takes them.

With a quick movement, Cassia is tottering on her feet. Nick moves over and stands a bit away but clearly gives Cassia instructions on how to walk on the thin blades.

It takes a few tries, and she hangs desperately onto Iona’s hands the entire time, but she gets the hang of it. I can’t help but smile as she moves carefully towards the ice.

Declan is already out there, moving with ease around the crowd, his gaze is sharp as he comes back around to the entrance. “The ice is a bit shredded but should be alright for a first timer if we go slow.” He reports to Nick.

The two men nod at each other as Cassia wiggles forward and pauses before the edge of the ice. She looks so determined, hanging on to both sides of the small opening, but there is still an edge of doubt there. As I watch it seems to take over her and she begins to turn away, tawny eyes beginning to flood.

Nick is there in a moment, stepping on the ice after Iona and myself. Declan stand just to the side, ready. “Cassia,” Nick murmurs extending his hand out to her. “I know something new is really scary, but that shouldn’t keep you from trying something you think you’ll like. You won’t be great at it the first time, or the second, but in time skating will be something you will come to love. I know it. You want to know why? Because you’re here, right now, wanting to have this experience. You can do it. But first and foremost you have to trust yourself.”

Cassia was staring up at him, eyes wide with something I couldn’t quite identify. I could see exactly what Nick was talking about though. She wanted intensely to be here, to experience something new for herself. For her to back away now would be devastating.

I could see the indecision on her face. But mostly I saw that same look that I was seeing more and more often lately, the need to be normal. The need to be here with us.

The need to live.

Her hand was shaking terribly, but it made it’s way into Nick’s and held on for dear life as he hoisted her onto the ice.

Iona stayed right be her side, hands at the ready to catch her if she slipped as Nick goes through the basics of skating. I can tell that Cassia is listening intently from the way her brow furrows. She nods every once in a while and begins to mimic the movements that Iona and Nick show her.

Declan skates a wide circle around us, keep others from bumping into Cassia. Soon I join him, falling into the smooth rhythm of the glide.

Cassia is a fast learner, but she is a bit more uncoordinated with her body than I would have expected. She falls multiple times but both Iona and Nick are there in a moment to help her up and give her encouraging words. Declan joins in from his guard spot, cheering Cassia on so much that she gives him a wide grin. It shocks him a bit too much and he accidentally runs into a couple holding hands.

We all enjoy the laugh, even Cassia. I think that she is concentrating so hard on overcoming this new challenge that she doesn’t notice that both Nick and Iona have their hands gently touching and guiding her. It makes me so happy that not only is she becoming more comfortable around me, but also everyone else within our family.

I indulge myself by doing a lazy twirl and then another and another.

When I come out of my last spin, Nick is there to steady me. Cassia is moving more confidently now, gliding a bit as Iona skates backward in front of her still ready to catch her if she needs it. But both girls are giggling, cheeks rosy in the cold, eyes as bright as stars.

I nudge Nick and nod into Cassia's direction, and his face lights up in a smile as well. It was a good decision to take her out. Thinking herself unseen in the crowd of the rink, she lets herself relax and enjoy.

I smile and turn my attention back to my husband, who pulls me into another series of spins and twirls. Nick nudges me after a moment, and when I turn to him to see what he means, he leans in to whisper in my ear. "Look at Declan."

I look past Cassia to see my nephew. Only he isn't skating around and showing off anymore, he’s not even looking at the dazzling lights of the rink or looking at the crowd. He's looking at Cassia.

Only at Cassia.

She’s all he sees.