Almost Home

by Fewthistle

See Part 1 for disclaimers and Author's Notes.

8.

Clouds stood out on the horizon, dark, towering shapes. Steering the car down the silver-gray ribbon of highway, it occurred to Olivia that they looked for all the world like an army of Titans marshaling for war. Perhaps they were the ancient gods of the Arapaho, intricate patterns of war-paint marking their faces, gleaming feathers flying out behind them as they rode once more into a battle that spanned the millennia.

Huge, fat drops of rain began to fall intermittently on the windshield, hitting with the force of bugs splattering against the glass. Soon, the rain was a hard, steady downpour, obscuring all but a few feet of road in front of them. The world was reduced to a box of metal and plastic, creeping down a road that was now more river than highway, water rushing in inundated currents along its surface. There was nothing beyond the dark hood of the car, nothing beyond the wall of water that surrounded them, threatening to wash them away into the dark gray sea that had once been barren fields.

Olivia slowed the car to a veritable crawl, the tires no longer finding traction on the concrete. Ava noticed that her mother's grip on the wheel had tightened, a deep frown of concentration furrowing her forehead. She leaned forward in the seat, her eyes straining as she tried to make out the faint hint of yellow along the center of the road. Eventually, the storm grew so fierce, the winds buffeting the car from all directions, that Olivia gently eased it off the side of the road into the emergency lane.

“Fuck. I can't even see the hood of the car or the headlights anymore. I know the road is reasonably straight and flat, but I can't see a goddamn thing,” Olivia muttered, bending her head first to the right and then to the left as she attempted to alleviate some of the tension in her neck.

“Maybe we should have stayed in Laramie a while longer. Or at least asked if they could rent us an ark,” Ava murmured, relief settling over her that her mother had finally pulled over. “I don't think I have ever seen it rain this hard before. Ever.”

“I have,” Olivia replied, leaning her head back against the seat and closing her eyes, the sound of the rain pounding on the roof of the car nearly drowning out her voice. “Growing up, we had several tropical storms every year, and usually at least one hurricane. When I was fourteen, we had a category five come through. Allen. The name should have been a warning to me for the future, shouldn't it.” Olivia chuckled mirthlessly. “Anyway, it laid waste to several of the surrounding islands. We sustained a lot of damage. I remember being in the house with my mother and Marissa and Sam. God, we were all terrified. It sounded like the end of the world outside.”

“Why didn't you evacuate to a shelter?” Ava asked, feeling a jittery excitement, as she always did when her mother spontaneously shared her past.

“To be honest, our house was probably as safe as anything. When the winds are that strong, it's more about relative location than anything else. We lived on the southern end of the island, to the west, on the left side of the eye, where the rotation is less intense. Besides, my mother believed that God would protect us, so she made us stay,” Olivia explained, her tone darkening as she went on. “A fucking category five hurricane barreling toward your children and you place your trust, and their lives, in the hands of some specious, fickle deity.”

“It worked, didn't it?” It was as if Ava could see the words take wing in the still, enclosed space, and she longed to reach out and grab them and stuff them back inside her.

Olivia's expression was such a complicated mass of emotions it took Ava a few moments to decipher them, like working out a complex, vital code. Disbelief. Anger. Hurt. Shock. Regret. Sadness. Betrayal. Olivia didn't speak, her breath coming in short expulsions of air from her parted lips.

“Mom,” Ava began, reaching out a hand, one that Olivia pulled away from, drawing back toward the hard surface of the car door. “Mom. I didn't mean that the way it sounded.”

“Really, Ava? And how did you mean it?” Olivia glared, green eyes narrowed, almost black in the murky light of the storm.

“I just meant that regardless of why you stayed, it turned out alright. That you and your family survived. I wasn't endorsing relying on God to save you from a natural disaster. I promise,” Ava's words tumbled from her lips in a rush of reassurance. “I just meant that I'm glad that, for whatever reason, you and your brother and sister were okay.”

Olivia didn't respond and it seemed to Ava that she could see some of the strands of the tenuous thread they had woven between them the past few days unraveling. For a moment she had forgotten to tread lightly, precariously, over the cracked places inside her mother. Now she stood, waiting to see if the floor was going to crash in beneath her feet.

“I don't suppose I have much room to talk, do I?” Olivia whispered, her voice so low that Ava had to lean forward, the gear shift prodding painfully into her ribs, to hear her mother's words. “I've trusted Emma's fate to fickle, specious men. Phillip. Alan. Bill. And none of them came through for us. Not one managed to see us through a single fucking storm. So, maybe my mother wasn't so crazy after all, right?”

“Hey. You're a great mother. Emma's an amazing kid and that's because of you, Mom. You. Nobody can control other people's actions any more than we can control the weather. So, maybe you should cut yourself some slack? And maybe, just maybe, you could consider giving your mother the benefit of the doubt, too?”

Silence.

“Rain's letting up,” Olivia observed, straightening in her seat with a deep sigh. “I could use a cup of coffee. Let's get back on the road and see if there's any place we can stop before we get to Cheyenne, okay?”

“Mom? Are we alright?” Ava asked, hesitant and unsure.

“Of course we are,” Olivia assured her, reaching over and taking Ava's hand as she pulled the car back onto the interstate. “Storms pass. All sorts of them. But you're my kid. That doesn't change.”

Wrapping her fingers a little tighter around her mother's, Ava closed her eyes and let the lingering fall of rain against the hard metal of the car wash over her.

They changed drivers when they stopped for coffee and restrooms. Ava watched her mother sip her convenience store coffee from its Styrofoam cup, a small smile turning up her lips at the picture of Olivia Spencer drinking FastMart swill. Still, Olivia seemed content, holding the cup cradled between her hands, probably more for warmth than the piquant taste of the brew.

“I'm going to call Natalia and let her know where we are. That is, if I'm allowed to drink and talk at the same time?” Olivia asked, her face a study in sincerity.

Ava simply rolled her eyes at her, the thought crossing her mind that if she didn't watch it, she might end up with some serious eye sprain.

The phone rang. And rang again. Olivia could close her eyes and see it, resting on its cradle in the kitchen of the farmhouse, or lying on the coffee table, a small black and grey turtle abandoned on its back. Finally the voicemail clicked on, announcing that no Spencers or Riveras were able to come to the phone right now. Olivia hung up without leaving a message, quickly pushing the end button on her phone and dialing Natalia's cell.

Voicemail again. This time telling her that a certain Natalia Rivera was unable to take her call and urging her to leave a message at the tone.

“Hi. I miss you. I love you. That's all I wanted to say. We're on the far side of Cheyenne. We should be in Nebraska in a little while. We're going to try and make it to Omaha tonight. Then we'll be home by four or five on Friday. Did I mention that I miss you? I do. Ava's driving, so no fear of any cell phone related incidents. Well, other than where she just suggested I could put mine.”

“Mother!!” Ava protested, rolling her eyes at Olivia's smirk.

“Oops. Eight second warning. I love you. Call you later.” Olivia rambled into the phone, head tilted in disappointment at not being able to talk to the woman she loved.

“Talk about feeling like I'm traveling with a nine year old,” Ava muttered, not even acknowledging the amused grin on Olivia's face.

“I'm bored. We should play a game,” Olivia announced, her voice sounding for all the world like Emma's.

“What kind of game?” Ava inquired suspiciously, the gleeful gleam in her mother's eyes all the warning Ava needed to know she probably wasn't going to enjoy it.

“Hmm. We could play twenty questions,” Olivia invited, eyebrows rising and falling, a smirk plastered on her full lips.

“Couldn't you just take that porcupine quill you picked up at the gas station in Evanston and stick me in the leg every few miles? I have no doubt it would be less painful,” Ava quipped, secretly pleased that she had an invitation to ask her mother questions. She just wasn't so certain that she wanted to know the answers.

“You're just a friggin' laugh riot, aren't ya? Come on, it'll be fun,” Olivia promised, a wide smile gracing her lips now and she nodded her head in agreement. “I'll let you go first.”

“Fine. But only because I am bored out of my mind, too. That's the only reason I can imagine why I would let you talk me into this,” Ava reluctantly agreed, trying not to overplay her hand.

“'Kay, whatever. So, go first.”

The list of questions that buzzed through Ava's head sounded like a frenzied hive of pissed-off honeybees. Where to start? She considered question after question, discarding them as too vague, too specific, too personal, too impersonal. There was so much she did not know about this woman who had given her life and to have her curiosity reduced to the limits of a children's game threatened to short-circuit her brain.

“Ava? I know that we've only got a few months of it left, but sometime this freakin' decade would be nice.”

“Patience really isn't one of your virtues, is it, Mom?” Ava complained, shooting a sideways glance at the passenger seat.

“Nope. So?”

“Fine,” Ava said, drawing in a deep breath in preparation. “Do you believe in God?”

“Do I believe in God? That's your question? Seriously, Ava? Of all the friggin' things you could ask me, that's what you pick?” Olivia fumed incredulously, her voice rising in pitch and volume as she stared at her daughter. “Let me guess. Natalia put you up to this, right? She added a little note in that email about what I should eat and when to take my meds and said, ‘Gee, Ava, if you get a chance, ask your mother about her stance on the existence of God', didn't she?”

“Yeah, Mom that was it. And my follow-up question is going to be, ‘Have you always been this amazingly paranoid?',” Ava stated sarcastically, shaking her head in astonishment at her mother's reaction. “I would think that Natalia would be fairly well-versed in your views on religion by now, Mother. I don't think she needs me to find out for her. She doesn't strike me as being too shy to ask herself, either.”

“As for me, I asked because I don't know the answer. Because it seems like something that carries a lot of baggage for you. Considering that I know very little about my grandmother other than a few remarks here and there about her faith, and the things I've heard you say about religion, I just thought I'd ask. That's all. No grand conspiracy. So, maybe we should find another game to play.” Ava's voice had grown quiet and serious, the sardonic tone slipping away.

A hundred different responses flitted through Olivia's mind, some far less kind than others, most sacrilegious and often profane. Vitriol about ignorant masses following the dictates of churches that were more concerned with crowd control than faith. Invective about the rampant misogyny of the world's three major faiths, the intolerance, the mass slaughter committed in the name of the one true God. Diatribe about the inability and unwillingness of religious groups to keep their paws off the Constitution, about the hate-filled proscription on the sanctity of marriage spewed by so many who claimed to speak for God.

All of which died in her throat as she studied her daughter's tense profile. Ava hadn't asked to upset her, hadn't asked for any other motive than she didn't know the answer and, for whatever reason, it mattered to her.

“Just God? Not organized religion or a particular faith, right? Just, do I believe in some greater power?” Olivia questioned softly, not needing the clarification as much as needing to let Ava know she understood.

“Yeah. Just God,” Ava answered, resisting the urge to meet her mother's eyes.

“Yes,” Olivia replied, her eyes fixed on the still gray, soggy landscape rushing past the windows. “But not the way Natalia does. Not the way my mother did.”

“What do you mean?” Ava ventured gingerly, sensing that her mother was trying to get past her own disinclination to discuss this issue to share a portion of herself with her child.

“I can accept that some higher power exists. I can even allow, on a good day, that whoever or whatever that power is created the universe. But I don't think that he or she or it intercedes in our lives. I don't think that anyone's listening to all those billions of prayers, and even if anyone is, that they get answered. You know a lot of the Founding Fathers were Deists. A great many people during the Enlightenment were. They believed that God was a clockmaker. That He built the clock, created the universe and then let it go. Just set it all in motion and let it run.

“I guess that makes the most sense to me. Because otherwise, I can't reconcile all the pain, all the atrocities, and the chaos in the world as the workings of some loving god. I just can't. I wish I could. I wish I could believe, could have Natalia's faith, because it brings her so much comfort, so much solace. But I don't.” Olivia explained slowly, her face pensive and touched by an intense sadness, one that caught at Ava's heart.

“I'm not sure I do, either,” Ava admitted. “We didn't really go to church when I was growing up. Easter. Christmas. Weddings and funerals. But that was about it. I always thought that the services were pretty and I loved the stained-glass windows and the candles and the singing. But I never understood the fervor. Or the looks of peace on people's faces as they prayed.”

“Me, neither.” Olivia agreed quietly. “But sometimes, when Natalia comes home from Mass, and I see that look in her eyes, and the sense of stillness and contentment all around her, I really, really wish I did.”

Silence descended, both of them lost in her own thoughts, the steady rhythm of the tires on the road the only sound.

“So. It's your turn,” Ava said finally, her voice jarring in the silence.

“Um, yeah. Okay. So,” Olivia stalled, clearly no more ready than Ava had been to select one question out of the hundreds that jockeyed for position in her head. “So, when you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“You'll laugh,” Ava warned, a hint of insecurity threading through her tone.

“I promise. I won't,” Olivia assured her, the smile on her face warm and encouraging.

“Promise?”

“I swear. I wouldn't do that.”

“It's such a cliché,” Ava said with a self-deprecating chuckle, “but I wanted to be a ballerina.”

“So what stopped you?” Olivia asked with a curious smile.

“Mom, I'm almost 5'10”. Way too tall for a ballerina,” Ava said wistfully. “I loved it though. I started lessons when I was five. But then I got to be around eleven or twelve and I started getting taller. And taller. My instructor told me I should try tap or modern dance, but I didn't want to be that kind of dancer. Still, that's one of the things that I'll miss about living in San Francisco. I had season tickets to the City Ballet company.”

“There's a ballet company in Chicago, you know?” Olivia informed her, smiling sweetly. “When we get home, we'll buy four season tickets and we'll go watch the ballet. And you can teach Emma all about it. She'll love that, having her big sister take her to see the dancers.”

“Really? You like ballet?” Ava felt a warmth settle inside her at her mother's smile.

“I do. And I know that Natalia and Emma would be so thrilled to go. I doubt Natalia has ever been and I know Emma hasn't. It'll be fun. We can make a night of it whenever they perform. We'll go to a fancy dinner, stay over at a nice hotel,” Olivia enthused, so pleased to see the broad grin that lit Ava's face.

“I'd like that, Mom. A lot,” Ava smiled.

“So, it's your turn again. You're not going to ask me about my politics now, are you? I mean, since we've covered religion,” Olivia teased, green eyes twinkling.

“God, you're not a Log Cabin Republican, are you, Mom?” Ava smirked back at her. “Please don't tell me you have a Sarah Palin t-shirt in a drawer at home.”

“You got me,” Olivia sighed, her expression resigned. “I keep it right next to my signed copy of Ann Coulter's last book and my autographed picture of Dick Cheney.”

“So how much did you give the Democratic Party last year?” Ava chuckled.

“A lady never divulges how many people she's slept with or how much she's given to the Democratic Party,” Olivia answered, “because either way, she just looks like a dumb tramp.”

Ava tried to stop the snort of laughter that came out. Never good to encourage her mother's delusion of humor, but she couldn't help it. Sometimes the woman really was funny.

“So, what shall it be this time, my darling child?” Olivia teased, pleased at Ava's laughter.

“Darling child? Good Lord, Mother. Try not to ruin my appetite for dinner, will ya?” Ava groaned with the expected eye roll in her mother's direction. “Hmm. Something benign and simple, I think. What's your favorite book?”

Ava wasn't sure what she was anticipating. She knew her mother was brilliant, educated, well-read. Perhaps some Jane Austen or Virginia Woolf. Even Fitzgerald or Nietzsche. As in many things, Olivia Spencer surprised her.

“ Le Petit Prince ,” Olivia said quietly, a faint blush just touching her cheeks. “ The Little Prince .”

“Why? Why that book?” Ava asked, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“That's another question and it isn't your turn,” Olivia countered, a small smile touching her lips.

“Mom,” Ava said sternly. She regarded her mother's profile out of the corner of her eye, sensing the sudden rush of melancholy that had settled over Olivia. Suddenly, it all made sense to her. The prince and his love for the rose. The meeting with the fox and the revelation that things, all things, need to tame or be tamed in order to truly connect, to become part of each other. Ava's voice was gentle when she spoke again.

“So, are you the fox or the Prince, Mom?”

Olivia just smiled at her, a blinding smile, one that took Ava's breath away. She could see the gratitude in her mother's eyes, the relief at being understood. At not being judged. It occurred to Ava that that was an all too rare happening in her mother's life, one that Ava knew she had been guilty of compounding many times.

“For the first time in my life, I think I'm a little of both,” Olivia replied, her head tilting to the side, her eyes focused on the unfocused scenery flashing by the windows.  

“Your turn,” Ava nudged gently, aware, as she always was, of the mercurial nature of her mother's moods and unwilling to send this one of introspection plummeting into melancholy or self-doubt.

“Actually, I think I get at least three questions, since you just went way over your quota,” Olivia chuckled, cutting an amused glance in Ava's direction.

“No, I didn't. That was simply a multi-part question. A complex and layered query,” Ava retorted sarcastically, trying but not quite succeeding in keeping an innocent look on her face.

“Oh, it was layered alright. Layers of bullshit, maybe,” Olivia grinned, a hand snaking over, a slender finger poking Ava in the ribs.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop stalling, Mom.”

Olivia pursed her lips, deciding the time had come to get a little more personal on the question front.

“Okay. Who's the last person you kissed?” Olivia asked sweetly.

Ava groaned, having wondered when her mother would make it around to asking about her sex life. Or lack thereof. Olivia had asked her a few veiled questions when they were packing up her apartment, subtle enquiries about “leaving anyone behind”, but Ava had refused to take the bait. And to be honest, there wasn't much to tell. Since she'd moved to San Francisco, she had been out three times. They'd all been nice guys, kind, considerate, funny. Acceptable. Completely lacking in the tiniest little spark.

She'd finally decided that the fault was in her, not her choice of dates, so she simply stopped dating. She wasn't sure why, wasn't certain what was lacking, what was holding her back from living her life. She just knew that a good book and a glass of wine were more appealing on a Saturday night than dinner and anything else that might be on the table with any of the men who asked her out. So she stayed home. Somehow, she doubted that her mother would understand that.

“Earth to Ava. What's the matter, having a hard time sorting through all those guys to come up with a name?” Olivia teased, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Suddenly, Ava leaned over in the driver's seat and pressed her lips to her mother's cheek. She straightened with a impish grin.

“You,” she answered triumphantly, a self-satisfied smirk firmly in place.

“Cheater,” Olivia accused, eyes narrowing as she threw a look of grudging admiration her daughter's way.

Ava's low chuckle filled the space between them, and she couldn't help but grin at the disgruntled look on her mother's face at being thwarted.

“My turn again,” she gloated, still laughing at Olivia's expression. Her smile faded slowly as she realized that she'd get no better opportunity than now to ask the one thing she wanted to know. The one thing she needed to hear her mother say.

“Fine. Go ahead, you little cheat,” Olivia whined, her gaze fond.

Ava schooled her voice, trying hard to keep it firm and unemotional, not quite succeeding as a barely noticeable tremor threaded through it.

“If you could go back and change one thing, make one different decision in your life, what would it be?”

Risking a glance at the passenger seat, Ava could read little from the stillness on her mother's face or see the expression in the now hooded eyes. Olivia didn't respond for long moments. Ava could almost feel the tension between them grow, pushing them farther apart, like an inflatable life raft, expanding to leave them staring at each other across a distance, one that could either save them, or doom them as they clung to the sides, weighted down in numbingly cold waters.

“Pull over,” Olivia ordered quietly, her eyes still focused out the front windshield to the gray road.

“What?” Ava asked, her mind slow to comprehend the non sequitur.

“Pull over,” Olivia repeated, her voice firmer as she turned to meet Ava's eyes, her own a dark, murky green.

Ava drew in a deep breath, letting the air out slowly as she eased the car off the highway, coming to a gradual stop alongside a dilapidated shed that sat abandoned in the field next to the road. Her eyes swept over it, absently taking in the bales of hay stacked haphazardly under the slanting roof. She heard the click of a seat belt being released, felt her mother shift sideways until she was facing her, but still, she didn't meet Olivia's eyes, a wave of terror washing over her at what she imagined she would see there.

“This is why you asked me to drive back with you, isn't it?” Olivia asked softly, the gentleness in her tone sending a rush of moisture against the back of Ava's closed eyelids. “This is what you needed to know, right?”

Ava could only nod, not trusting her voice, unable to force her eyes open, knowing that if she did so, she would be unable to stem the flood, unable to keep her carefully maintained dam from breaking through the now crumbling clay walls she'd built. She heard her mother sigh, a quick, forceful release of breath and then she felt strong fingers gripping her chin, forcing her head around and up.

“Look at me. Ava. Look at me,” Olivia demanded, her voice low and remarkably firm.

Opening her eyes, tears blurring her vision, Ava met her mother's unflinching stare. She blinked rapidly, an ineffectual effort to stop the stream of moisture that flowed down over high cheekbones.

“Ava,” Olivia began, thumb stroking softly across Ava's cheek, “I need you to listen to me. Can you? Can you really listen to me and hear what I'm saying and not what you expect to hear?”

Her breath coming in slightly staggered gasps, Ava managed to jerk her head up and down in assent.

“I know what you expect me to say. I know that you think I'm going to say that I would never have gone to that party at the embassy. Or that I would have had an abortion. And you know what, if you'd asked me that two years ago, the answer would have been different. But I'm not the same person anymore. I know that. I'm not just talking about almost dying or getting Gus' heart. I'm talking about who I am, who I've become. What I've learned. What I know.

“And what I know is that every single moment that has brought me to this point, every decision, good or bad, every choice, wonderful or rotten, has made me what I am right now. And what I am right now is happy. Really and truly happy, for the first time in my life. And if I changed anything, if I went back and made anything different, if I tried to alter anything, I would lose this. I would lose all of it.” Olivia paused, searching Ava's face for reaction. “Because you can't simply pull out one strand of thread without loosening another one and another, until the whole thing unravels.”

“Do I wish that I hadn't defied my mother and gone to that party? Do I wonder what my life might have been like if Jeffrey hadn't raped me that night? Do I regret every single day of my life that the last words my mother heard from me were ‘I hate you'? Of course I do. So much that it was this hollow ache in the pit of my stomach, one that I tried desperately over the years to fill with money and power and sex and booze. And every once in while, I thought maybe I had managed to make it disappear, to stop it from eating away at me. But it was only temporary and pretty soon it started again and I started again, trying to fill up that empty space inside me.

“It wasn't until I almost died, until Natalia stormed into my life, until she slipped in under all the walls I had put up, that I began to realize that the only thing that was going to make me whole again was love. I know, talk about clichés, huh? But it's true. She's made me a better person. She's shown me just how powerful love can be. And there is nothing, nothing Ava, that I would change. Nothing that I would do differently. Nothing. Especially not you.” Olivia finished, the truth of her words carrying through in every syllable, glowing brightly from her eyes.

Ava let the words sink into her, allowed them to flow through her veins, to become part of her bones, knitting together all the broken bits, all the barely noticeable fractures to her psyche. Olivia's eyes searched her face, seeking confirmation that Ava had heard her, really heard what she was trying to tell her. Looking down, Ava reached slowly and deliberately for her mother's hand, lacing their fingers together, almost able to picture those strong, capable hands pulling her up into that life raft. Out of the numbing water that she suddenly understood she had been treading now for four years.

“Thank you,” Ava said quietly, her eyes still fixed on the link of flesh and bone, on the solid feeling of her mother's hand in her own.

“Do you believe me?” Olivia asked, her face apprehensive as she tried to gauge Ava's response.

“Yes. I do,” Ava answered, finally raising her eyes to meet her mother's questioning gaze. “I do, Mom. If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you're one of the most honest people I know. You don't pull punches, even to save someone's feelings.”

“Not about important things. I might tell you your ass doesn't look fat in those jeans or that I like that really shitty yellow sweater you had on yesterday, but I wouldn't lie to you about this,” Olivia assured her, the beginnings of a grin just touching her lips.

Ava snorted, shaking her head at her mother's innate need to distance herself from emotional intensity with humor.

“You're really not funny, you know?” Ava complained, one hand coming up to wipe at her still wet cheeks.

“I'm a little funny,” Olivia countered, pulling down the sleeve of her shirt over her wrist and wiping at Ava's remaining tears.

Ava simply rolled her eyes, deciding not to justify the ridiculousness of the words with comment.

“So, I say we suspend the game for a while?” Olivia offered, head tilted to the side in what Ava had long ago dubbed her mother's ‘if I tilt my head and look cute then you'll agree with me' look. “Or at least declare a moratorium on any more intense conversations, at least until we make it through Nebraska?”

“What's Nebraska have to do with anything?” Ava asked, her voice a trifle hoarse from her tears.

“Nothing. It's just Nebraska and I don't think I can take drama and Nebraska, you know? My heart probably wouldn't be able to take the excitement,” Olivia told her, expression serious.

“As I said, Mother, you're really not funny.” Ava replied, sliding the car back into gear and on to the highway. “But you keep trying.”

“Maybe we should stick to license plate bingo and punch buggy?” Olivia suggested.

“Ow! Mom, we're the only car on the friggin' road. There is no Bug!” Ava complained loudly, rubbing her right shoulder where her mother's fist had playfully come in contact.

Olivia chuckled.

And punched her again.

“Damn it, Mom! I mean it. Stop!” Ava demanded, glaring at her laughing parent. “You do that again and I'm going to flag down a cop and have you arrested for child abuse.”

Olivia just laughed and yelled, “Punch buggy!”

“Mother!”

9.

Part way through Nebraska, Ava was forced to agree with her mother: Boring didn't begin to cover it. By mutual consent, they stayed away from any potentially emotional topics. Instead, they talked about books they liked, about movies they had seen. Olivia told stories about Emma and her adventures on the farm. About the ducks. About a slightly disastrous run in with the cow.

They listened to music and Ava discovered, much to her surprise, that her mother had a pretty fabulous singing voice. And that she knew the words to a veritable plethora of cheesy eighties songs. A fact about which she was sworn to secrecy. Under pain of death. Or worse.

They made it to Omaha by ten.

Unfortunately, so had thousands of podiatrists. According to the desk clerk at the Doubletree, the International Association of Podiatry had chosen Omaha for their convention site. According to Olivia, it was only fitting that this sixth circle of Hell include podiatrists. She apparently had a theory that each successive circle of hell was occupied, in turn, by high school counselors, morticians, dentists, used car salesmen, life insurance salesmen, podiatrists, actuaries, lawyers and IRS agents. A hypothesis that Olivia was more than happy to share with the front desk clerk, as well as anyone within a fifteen foot radius.

Ava just shook her head and groaned.

Finally, after pleading, cajoling, threatening, and a judicious bribe, the clerk coughed up a room that had yet to be claimed by any arriving foot specialist. Or, as Olivia pronounced, foot fetishist.

Ava was simply glad when they made it safely into the elevator. Good thing that podiatrists seemed a bit slow-footed, Olivia muttered, chuckling.

Ava groaned again.

Thankfully, the room had a lovely king-sized bed, one that Ava dropped onto in exhaustion as soon as they entered. Closing her eyes, she could hear her mother moving around, unzipping her suitcase, pulling out various items. There was something soothing in the sounds, in the presence of another person, that had been lacking in her life for quite a while now. A twinge of regret lanced through Ava as the thought occurred to her that she and Olivia could have shared a room last night as well.

“I'm going to jump in the shower, okay?” Olivia's voice seeped into Ava's consciousness.

Opening one eye, she peered groggily at her mother, somewhat bemused at the look of fond amusement on Olivia's face.

“What?” Ava muttered.

“I have that same problem with getting both eyes to open when I'm tired. Apparently it's genetic,” Olivia chuckled, picking up her toiletries bag and heading toward the bathroom. “Don't get too comfy there, by the way. That's my side of the bed.”

“Your side?” Ava snorted, allowing the cooperative eye to close, sighing blissfully at the lovely, cushion-top mattress beneath her weary bones. “You're too much, Mom.”

A wondrous feeling of lassitude had settled over Ava, seeping into her muscles like rain into drought parched ground. The soft drone of the water from the shower, the gentle whir of the fan in the air conditioning unit, the energy of the hundreds of souls occupying the building around her, washed over her, slowing her breathing, beckoning her into a welcoming blackness.

All of which disappeared with the strains of Ella Fitzgerald and “The Very Thought of You” issuing forth from her mother's cell phone. Ava had heard it enough for the past few weeks to know that was Natalia's ring tone. Forcing that eye open again, Ava glanced at the bathroom door, still hearing the steady drum of the shower.

Rolling over with a decidedly unladylike grunt, Ava stretched the length of the bed, just managing to grasp the strap of Olivia's purse. Hauling it up the bed, she reached into the side pocket, pulling out the phone and pushing the talk button.

“Olivia Spencer's exhausted answering service,” Ava sighed, a smile creasing her face as she heard Natalia laugh.

“Hello, Olivia Spencer's exhausted daughter. Where is Her Majesty?” Natalia chuckled, her voice sympathetic.

“In the shower. We're in Omaha. Along with a million podiatrists. We managed to snag a room at the Doubletree and make it up here without being lynched. No thanks to mom,” Ava explained in a slightly sing-song tone.

“Which circle of Hell is that again? Fifth or sixth?” Natalia was genuinely laughing now, the melodious sound bringing an answering smirk to Ava's face.

“Oh, good. She's shared her theory with someone besides me, the desk clerk and about fifty or so foot fetishists, as she so generously called them,” Ava responded sardonically.

“Yeah. Once when we had to meet with Emma's guidance counselor and once around tax time. She has lots of theories like that. It's best to just nod your head and change the subject as soon as possible. Don't ever let her get started on whether men who are named Richard but called Dick are actually predisposed to being…well, you know….because their parents named them that, or are they called Dick rather than Rick or Richie because they are…um, well…you get the point. Anyway. It's not pretty. Never bring up Watergate,” Natalia advised matter-of-factly. Ava could almost see the look of resignation on Natalia's face.

“What you're trying to say is are Dicks really dicks because of nature or name, right? You know, I've wondered that myself sometimes,” Ava clarified, her intonation so much like Olivia's that Natalia snorted.

“You two really needed a DNA test to figure out you're mother and daughter?” Natalia teased.

“I know. I inherited the snarky gene. Still, my mother is strange, isn't she?” Ava asked rhetorically.

“Yup. But I love her,” Natalia agreed, her tone softening as she said the words.

Ava sighed. “So do I. God help us both.”

“So, I take it you're sharing a room?” Natalia asked.

“The last hotel room in Omaha, at least according to the clerk.”

“One bed or two?” Natalia asked.

“One. King-sized. We should be able to manage, although on her way to the shower, Mom informed me I'm on her side,” Ava replied, leaning her head back against the incredibly soft pillows with a sigh of contentment.

“She doesn't have a side. No matter where she starts out, she ends up in the middle. Major bed hog. She also wraps up in the covers,” Natalia said informatively. “Oh, and don't let her sleep on her back. She…well, she kinda snores a little. Just poke her and make her turn over.”

“See this is one of the things that makes me glad I'm not married,” Ava muttered, her mind already imagining a night spent fighting with her mother over space and covers and snores.

“I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Still, waking up next to the person you love for the rest of your life makes up for an occasional sleepless night or stolen covers,” Natalia said softly, the love evident in her voice. “By the way, don't tell her I said she snores. She gets a little indignant.”

“My mother gets a little indignant? I didn't know Mom did just a little indignant. I thought there was extremely indignant and just fucking pissed off,” Ava laughed, a twinge of guilt hitting her at her language. Still, Natalia was, well, married, to all intents and purposes, to Olivia Spencer. Surely she heard more than the occasional “fuck”. As for the rest of what Natalia had said, Ava pushed it aside, not prepared for the sharp lance of emotion that knifed through her chest at the words.

“She can do little. Sometimes. Okay, not often, but she's getting better,” Natalia agreed, marveling again at how much Ava sounded like her mother.

“Don't worry, I won't tell her,” Ava promised, just as the door to the bathroom opened in a cloud of steam.

“You won't tell me what?” Olivia demanded, half her head obscured by a large white towel as she rubbed the excess moisture from her hair.

“That sometimes, rarely, like giant meteor slamming into the Earth rare, you have moments when you're a little funny,” Ava prevaricated, pleased to hear Natalia laughing in her ear.

“That's okay. I don't like either one of you,” Olivia rejoined, sticking out her tongue at Ava as she dropped heavily onto the edge of the bad, jostling Ava so that the cell phone smacked into her jaw.

“Oww, Mom,” Ava grumbled, sending a Spencer glare her mother's way. “Here, talk to your woman.”

“Her woman?!” Natalia complained loudly. Ava chuckled and handed the phone to her mother without replying.“What do you mean, ‘her woman'?”

“What's so bad about being my woman?” Olivia teased, Natalia's words reaching her as she raised the phone to her ear. She pushed at Ava with her hip to get her to move over.

“You mean, aside from the whole shackled to the stove image? Do you want the reasons alphabetically or in order of ludicrousness?” Natalia retorted, her broad grin carrying through the line.

“Please. Shackled to the stove? Now, if you'd said shackled to the bed…,” Olivia smirked, the end of her wet towel falling over Ava's cheek.

“Olivia!” Natalia's voice was indignant and not a little embarrassed.

“Mother, please! And stop smacking me in the face with that towel,” Ava complained, rolling across the bed to other side. She pulled herself off the edge, a groan escaping her lips at the effort. “I'm going to take a shower before you make my ears bleed.”

“God, you'd think you'd never heard about sex,” Olivia muttered as she watched Ava shuffle towards the bathroom.

“Again, just for the record, Mom. Never, ever want to think about, imagine, or visualize you having sex. Ever,” Ava informed her sternly, an expression of extreme distaste on her face. “Scar me for life.”

“God, my kid's a drama queen,” Olivia whined to Natalia.

“Gee, I can't imagine where she got that,” Natalia replied, more than a trace of sarcasm coloring her voice.

“I miss you,” Olivia said softly.

“You're impossible,” Natalia laughed, clearly amused at her lover's attempt at deflection. “Yeah, well, ‘your woman' misses you, too.”

“How's Em?” Olivia asked plaintively.

“She's fine. She misses you. And she's mad at you,” Natalia replied.

“Mad? Why?” Olivia's voice rose a little in pitch.

“She's convinced that you've only called when she's in school or asleep on purpose so you won't have to tell her what her surprise is,” Natalia said archly.

“What surprise? And I have called in the evening, but she was at Sally's,” Olivia countered, not sounding much older than her nine year old offspring.

“I know you have. Doesn't matter. She's convinced that the reason that you and Ava are driving back is that you're bringing her something too big to carry on a plane. So you'd better come up with something before you get here tomorrow,” Natalia responded, a hint of laughter in her tone.

“It would've been nice if you'd told me this before we reached Nebraska! I mean, the only place between here and Illinois is Iowa. Unless you want me to wrestle a prize pig and put it in the backseat, my choices are going to be somewhat limited.” Olivia's tone was decidedly put out.

“I didn't find this out until this evening. She's been all pouty and quiet, so I asked her what was wrong. She was very adamant that the only reason you would consent to drive all that way is to bring her something ‘huge',” Natalia pronounced calmly.

“Great. Now I have to find something to bring her. In Iowa.” Olivia Spencer did not sound pleased.

Natalia Rivera laughed.

“Good luck, sweetie,” she chuckled. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Olivia pouted, clearly disgruntled. “Just remember that when Ava and I get home with Wilbur.”

“Just as long as you don't bring Charlotte along,” Natalia rejoined, still laughing. “You know I hate spiders.”

10.

Compared to Iowa, Nebraska had been a veritable traveler's paradise. For miles on end there was nothing but fields, fields and more fields. An occasional grain elevator rising up from the flat prairie. More fields. It was too late in the season for waving fields of grain or corn as far as the eye could see. Instead, everything was brown, the earth a carpet of soil, the scattered shards of corn stalks rising like brittle, half-buried bones from the dirt. Even the rivers were brown in the late morning light, slow and sluggish as they charted their course through the vacant countryside.

They had gotten an early start. It had been a less than successful night, neither Ava nor Olivia sleeping well. Between the slamming of doors and the drunken voices of a parade of podiatrists, and Olivia's increasingly frequent, increasingly infuriated calls to the front desk, neither of them got more than a few hours of sleep. Still, when the phone rang with their seven a.m. wake up call, they both struggled out of bed, threw on some clothes and headed for the car, taking a great deal of pleasure in slamming their own door as they left.

According to the GPS, it was only a seven to eight hour drive from Omaha to Springfield, but as the miles clicked by on the odometer it seemed to Olivia that despite the speed of the car hurtling down the interstate, they were barely moving. Each mile closer to home seemed to stretch out, measured on all sides by the ceaseless, rolling fields, Fitzgerald's ‘dark fields of the republic', that extended as far as the eye could see, disappearing into the horizon like the limitless ocean of her youth. Not for the first time, watching the silver ribbon of highway vanish beneath the wheels of the car, it occurred to Olivia that Natalia and that small plot of farmland were truly the only solid ground she had ever found to stand on.

Ava dozed in the passenger seat, her face turned toward Olivia, head resting at an odd angle against the seat back. The faint smudges of violet under her eyes were visible reminders of the distance they had traveled, measured as much in words and tears and laughter as mile markers. Olivia reached her right hand over, gently brushing the back of her fingers along her daughter's cheek, a wash of gratitude sweeping over her at Ava's presence in her life. She would never have admitted it to anyone, even Natalia, but for a few moments, along an isolated stretch of road outside Lambs Grove, Iowa, Olivia Spencer offered up a silent prayer of thanks to a God she wasn't absolutely convinced existed.

A prayer of thanks for Ava. For Emma. For Rafe. For Natalia. Especially for Natalia. For the home and the family she had found.

What can it hurt , she thought with a self-mocking smile.

Olivia woke Ava around noon just outside of Iowa City. They stopped for lunch at a diner, a silver railroad car complete with red vinyl booths, gleaming chrome and the best home fries west of the Mississippi, a claim that the Spencer women were hard pressed to dispute. They even had coffee milkshakes, one of which accompanied them as they headed back out onto the highway.

“So, what the hell are we going to get your sister?” Olivia asked, not for the first time. Or the second. Or even the third.

“Mom. I don't know. Like I said, I wish we had known earlier, but even then, it isn't like we've been anywhere near shopping meccas. I don't even know what we could have brought her from San Francisco other than a gigantic stuffed animal or something,” Ava supplied, shrugging her shoulders in defeat.

“Well, we've got about three hours to find something here in Bumble Fuck, Iowa. Your sister could qualify for the Olympic team when it comes to pouting and holding a grudge, so I'm not showing up without something friggin' amazing,” Olivia explained, the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight grimace.

“Can't imagine where she got that particular skill,” Ava muttered, shooting a sideways glance her mother's way.

“Criticize less, think more,” Olivia ordered, sending an equally contemptuous glare back at Ava.

“We could get her a huge pumpkin? It is close to Halloween and they do grow some freakin' humongous pumpkins here in the Hawkeye State. Much bigger than you'd get in Springfield. We could make a really cool jack-o-lantern and put it on the front porch?” Ava knew she was reaching, but honestly, it was Iowa.

“A pumpkin? A fifty pound pumpkin? We're going to convince Emma that we drove half way across the country to bring her a goddamn pumpkin?” Olivia asked incredulously.

“I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas. And no, Mom, a pig is not a better idea,” Ava retorted, glaring at her mother's profile.

After minutes of silence, brown, stubby fields rushing by outside the windows, Olivia sighed.

“Fine. We'll get her a pumpkin,” Olivia conceded. “I am in such shit.”

“It'll be fine, Mom. She'll be distracted with helping me unpack and she won't even have time to think about it,” Ava attempted to reassure, reaching over and offering a faux-sincere pat on her mother's arm.

“Emma, distracted? Please. The kid has the concentration of a Zen master,” Olivia muttered, shaking her head at the image of her younger child's expression when her surprise didn't measure up.

On the other side of Davenport, they pulled off the highway, lured by signs advertising an enormous farm stand. If the number of cars was any indication, they had found the right place for the perfect pumpkin.

On one side of the ramshackle building that housed the farm stand, lay an ocean of orange. Row upon row of pumpkins, some small, some large, some gigantic, all glowing cheerfully under a brilliant blue sky. Olivia stood surveying them, clearly flummoxed as to where to even begin choosing a prime specimen.

Ava left her mother standing in a sea of orange gourds, wandering into the shade of the stand itself. As she rounded a corner by an enormous pile of Indian corn, she pulled up short, a smile spreading across her face.

“Mom! Mom!” Ava called, trying without much success to get her mother's attention.

Olivia was about halfway out in the makeshift pumpkin patch, honeyed hair bright in the late afternoon sun. She had one hand shading her eyes, like a ship captain gazing far out to sea, scanning the bright orange waves.

“Mother!!” Ava yelled this time, ignoring the glances thrown her way by curious Iowans.

Olivia turned, drawing in a deep breath and sighing as she saw Ava's hand gestures, motioning her back to the building. She slowly made her way, navigating the squat, round shapes, stepping over and around hundreds of pumpkins.

“What?” Olivia's tone was a bit sharp as she finally reached her daughter's side, but she had spotted a likely prospect and she was concerned that someone might make off with her pumpkin before she could get back to it.

“Come here,” Ava demanded, grabbing her mother's hand and dragging her toward the interior of the building.

“I'm coming already. Stop pulling on me,” Olivia complained, trying unsuccessfully to wrest her hand out of Ava's grasp.

Ignoring her mother's pleas to slow down, Ava tugged her around the corner table overflowing with multi-colored ears of corn and pointed at a small sign, a huge grin lighting her face.

Adorable Kittens. Free to Good Homes. Have all first shots.

Olivia rolled her eyes and turned to glare at her eldest child.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? Come on, Mom. It's perfect. We don't have to bring her something big. Just something alive. I mean, we wouldn't have wanted to bring a kitten on a plane, so it makes perfect sense. And you know Emma will love it!” Ava exclaimed, her grip on Olivia's hand tightening, her eyes glowing with triumphant excitement.

“Ava…,” Olivia began, only to be interrupted by her daughter's voice.

“Every child should have a pet, Mom. And since you lived at the Beacon all those years, Emma never had one. Now that you live in the country, it's ideal. Just imagine her, all tucked into bed, a little ball of fur curled up beside her, purring away, lulling her to sleep.” Ava stated slowly, emphasizing each word. “And having a pet teaches responsibility. She'd be in charge of feeding the kitten and cleaning up after it. Come on, Mom. You know Emma will be so happy.”

“You're good,” Olivia admitted, a grudging glint of admiration in her eyes.

“You like cats, Mother,” Ava reminded her. “You said so the other day.”

“Actually, I believe that I said that I like umpphh ,” Olivia corrected, her last word muffled by her daughter's hand across her mouth.

“Mother!!” Ava glared, glancing quickly around to make certain that no one had overheard.

“Fine.” Olivia snapped, her face a study in capitulation. “Get her a kitten. But they'd better have some sort of carrier and a litter box for it.”

“Actually, you know, you can't just get one kitten, Mom,” Ava informed her sagely.

“Why the hell not?” Olivia growled, irritated at having been outmaneuvered by her child.

“Kittens need companionship. Someone to play with them,” Ava explained, her tone calm and reasonable.

“That's what Emma's for. To play with the kitten,” Olivia stated, one eyebrow beginning its ascent up her forehead.

“Yeah, but Emma has school, and both you and Natalia work and the kitten will be alone a lot. It'll need someone to be with it, to keep it company,” Ava answered logically.

“You want a kitten,” Olivia charged, one slender finger pointing accusingly at Ava. “This isn't about the kitten having company, or suffering from loneliness, it's about you wanting a little ball of fur curled up and purring on your bed.”

Ava considered her options, contemplating telling her mother that she was wrong and delusional, but in the end, it seemed easier to simply admit the truth.

“Fine. I want a kitten. Can I have a kitten, Mommy?” Ava asked sweetly, lowering her head and gazing up at her mother through long eyelashes.

“You win. Go get two kittens. And I mean it, Ava. They'd better come with their own little house and potty or you're getting out every thirty miles and walking them,” Olivia threatened, rolling her eyes as her daughter simply grinned at her and marched off to pick out two small furry creatures for her and her sister.

“Brat.” Olivia grumbled.

At least Emma would be happy.

Half an hour later, they were back on the highway. Taking up three quarters of the back seat was an enormous wooden apple crate, a window screen jerry rigged across the top. Inside, on layers of old towels, slept two fluffy balls of calico. In one corner of the crate was a miniature litter box, beside which rested a bowl of Kitten Chow. Even Olivia had to allow that Ava had come through with flying colors in kitten accommodations. As for the kittens themselves, the great and powerful Olivia Spencer had taken one look at the small bundles of orange and white and black, greenish-gold eyes blinking up at her and made a noise that sounded distinctly like an “aww”.

Ava had simply smirked.

Resting next to the ‘kitty kingdom', as Olivia had christened it----although her first suggestion had been another alliterative that included the word ‘palace', a name Ava boycotted as being a tad too risqué for this particular car trip---was a large and rather glorious specimen of pumpkin. According to her mother, they might as well get the pumpkin, too. Ava was convinced that Olivia actually liked the huge, round orange gourd and, after having witnessed her mother actually pat it and call it ‘The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown', she was pretty certain that no one would be allowed to cut it into anything.

“Iowa isn't that bad,” Ava remarked as the car sailed past the “Welcome to Illinois” sign that marked the state line. “You and Natalia could head over there and get married.”

“Hmm. We could fly to Boston and stay at the Four Seasons, drive out to the Cape, or take the ferry to the Vineyard. Or we could drive four hours and stay in Des Moines and go to the Iowa State Fair. Let me think….,” Olivia replied dryly, one eyebrow making its customary trek toward her hairline. “If we ever get married, it won't be in Iowa, bless their astonishingly liberal little pointed heads.”

“You're such a snob, Mom,” Ava accused laughingly.

“No. I am not a snob, Ava. I am simply someone who, over the course of her life, has learned to appreciate the finer things in life and who has, through hard work and innate business sense, managed to accrue the wealth necessary to pay for those finer things. And I refuse to be ashamed of that,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly. “I live in a farmhouse, for God's sake, and I like it. I am not a snob.”

“Fine. Point taken. Still, Iowa is closer for a wedding,” Ava hinted, glancing surreptitiously at her mother.

“What the hell is with all this wedding crap, anyway?” Olivia groused, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Nothing. I mean, I just kind of assumed that, well, you know, given Natalia's background and religion, that she'd probably want to get married in some way,” Ava hedged, sensing the lava bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Um hmm. Well, last time I checked, the Catholic Church still wasn't down with same-sex marriage, so I don't think we're going to be standing up in front of Father Ray any time soon,” Olivia retorted, her animosity to the church and the priest in particular quite clear in her tone. “Besides, marriage and I do not do well. Period. If you'll recall, I have a shit load of frequent flyer miles on that trip down the aisle and none of them have ever ended well. They've just ended.”

“You've never married Natalia,” Ava replied quietly.

“Ava. Drop it, okay?” Olivia asked, her own voice low and intense.

“Okay, Mom. If you ever do decide to tie the knot again, I'd be proud to be your Maid of Honor,” Ava smiled, her eyes sincere as she turned to meet her mother's stare.

Olivia simply shook her head, chuckling.

Outside the windows, the fields began to make way for a string of small towns, a staccato rhythm of small farmhouses and mobile homes, of gas stations and strip malls and scattered signs of encroaching suburbia. Ava felt an odd sense of melancholy settle over her as their destination loomed closer and closer. Despite the tensions and the tears and the exhaustion of the trip itself, she had loved the time she had spent with her mother and she was loathe for it to end.

It wasn't until they sped by the sign for Lincoln that it occurred to her that that time wasn't really ending. Just shifting. Altering into something that had the potential to be infinitely richer and more complex. Time not only with her mother, but her little sister, her father, her new baby brother. Time to continue to build on her burgeoning friendship with Natalia. Time to finally find her place in her family.

“We're almost home,” Ava remarked, a shard of surprise cutting through the lingering traces of her melancholy as the truth of her words sank in.

Olivia grinned at her, green eyes sparkling with an inner light, and reached over to take her hand, loosely linking their fingers together.

“Yup. We are. Almost home.”

Ava blinked her eyes rapidly at the prick of moisture against her eyelids. No more crying, even if they were happy tears.

“So, what do you think Emma will name her new baby?” Ava asked, turning her head to peer into the back seat where the kittens still slumbered. “I can't believe how good they are. They've slept the whole way.”

“Yeah, well, the big meal they fed them before we left didn't hurt. Plus, they're probably like babies. The rhythm of the car puts them to sleep,” Olivia chuckled. “And knowing your sister, they'll end up named after some character in a video game.”

“Not mine,” Ava exclaimed somewhat indignantly.

“I thought you didn't care which one you took?”

“I don't. I told you, Emma can pick out the one she likes ‘cause I love them both. But I get to name my own kitten,” Ava proclaimed, sounding far closer to ten than thirty.

Olivia laughed, a throaty chuckle that drew a similar laugh from Ava, as instinctive as a bird's answering call.

“I'm staying out of it. You can deal with Emma yourself. God help you,” Olivia continued to chuckle. “Speaking of, grab my phone and call the house and tell Natalia we'll be there in about thirty minutes. See if she wants us to stop and get anything?”

“Hey, Natalia. We're almost there and Mom wants to know if we should stop for anything?” Ava asked, smiling as she listened to her step-mother's answer.

“That sounds amazing. You really didn't have to go to all that trouble, Natalia,” Ava responded, laughing. “Oh, yeah, we did find something. Two somethings, actually. No, you get to be surprised, too. We'll be there in about twenty-five minutes or so. I'll tell her. See you soon!”

“She's making chicken and rice and homemade blueberry cobbler,” Ava grinned, her face lighting up like a kid's at the prospect of a home cooked meal. “And she says she doesn't need anything but us home safely.”

Olivia smiled, eyebrows quirked as she waited for the rest of the message.

Ava looked at her innocently, a question in her eyes as her mother's stare grew more intent.

“What, Mom?”

“I believe I heard you say you'd tell me something?” Olivia prodded, rolling her eyes at the guileless expression on Ava's face.

“Did I? I can't remember what it was. Hmmm. Now what was I supposed to tell you?” Ava pondered, one finger pressed against her lips, tapping lightly.

“Ava!”

“God, you're easy,” Ava laughed. With a Cheshire grin she finished. “Natalia said to tell you she loves you.”

“Brat.” Olivia countered, all the malice of the word erased by the soft smile in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom.” Ava smirked.

As they entered the outskirts of Springfield, Ava was astounded to find that the sense of dread that was the usual accompaniment to her visits here was missing. In fact, watching as familiar landmarks passed by the windows of the car, she felt only an oddly exciting sense of anticipation, an awareness of infinite possibility. But most of all, she felt the immense happiness and peace that radiated off her mother as they drew ever closer to home. Ava wanted to reach out and capture a little of it for herself, like cautiously lowering a net over the startlingly beautiful wings of a Monarch, and hold that feeling inside. She could get used to feeling this way, she decided. Get very used to it, indeed.

She opened her mouth to comment on how little Springfield had changed but a tiny ruckus from the backseat forestalled her. Twin voices, high-pitched and decidedly unhappy, announced their displeasure with their current circumstances.

“See, even the babies know we're almost home,” Ava laughed, twisting in the seat to poke one slender finger through a hole in the side of the apple crate, feeling the cold wetness of a small nose press against her skin.

“Oh, please. That major feast they had has finally worn off and they're hungry again,” Olivia stated, although she peered in the rear view mirror, watching as Ava cooed softly at the kittens. “I don't know which one of you is going to be happier about having a kitten, you or Emma. Why didn't you get a cat when you lived in San Francisco? Didn't they allow pets in your apartment building?”

“They did. I thought about it, but, well, it just never seemed permanent enough. Does that make sense? Like it was never really going to be home,” Ava explained slowly, glancing up to meet her mother's understanding eyes.

“Yeah, it does.” Olivia assured her, smiling gently. “I'm so glad that this feels like home. The farmhouse, I mean, and me and Natalia and Emma. We're so glad you're going to live with us, even if it's just for a while.”

“Well, you know, now that I have the kitten, and I'm sharing her with Emma, and the two kittens really do need to stay together, at least for the first six months or so, I guess I might have to stay for a little while longer than I planned,” Ava murmured, rambling a bit, her voice and face hesitant, not certain of her mother's response.

“Just six months? ‘Cause I would think that the first year is really important. You know, before you think about separating them,” Olivia offered, clicking the signal and turning the car onto the long dirt and gravel drive. At the far end, the farmhouse sat, serene and lovely, a faint wisp of smoke rising up from the chimney.

Ava pressed her lips together, swallowing down the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat. For a moment, the brick of the farmhouse wavered in the fresh rush of moisture in her eyes, but she blinked the tears away.

Olivia pulled the car to a stop, provoking a fresh outburst from the backseat. She and Ava looked at each other and laughed, their chuckles growing to belly laughs as the kittens mewed their disapproval of their current situation. The door of the house opened and a small blur of color came hurtling at the car, gold and chestnut tresses flying behind as Emma sprinted toward them. A few feet behind her, Natalia walked quickly, her pace only a trifle more controlled.

Olivia and Ava climbed from the car just as Emma reached them, throwing herself into her mother's arms.

“Mommy!! You finally made it! Natalia said you'd be here in time for dinner and movies. We picked out two new ones to watch,” Emma began, words spilling out of her like coins from a winning slot machine. “Ava! I'm so glad you came home. I missed you. Mom missed you, too. Did you bring me a surprise? I told Natalia that you were bringing me something big!”

Ava laughed at Emma's exuberance, her eyes flitting from her little sister's face to the subdued but loving embrace of her mother and Natalia. Olivia held Natalia's face between her hands, her expression so tender and so loving that Ava's breath caught in her throat at the sight. Someday, maybe someday, she'd be lucky enough to find someone to look at her that way, someone she could gaze at with complete and utter adoration. She tried to focus on her sister's words, but it was difficult to tear her eyes away from the picture of the sweetest kiss she had ever witnessed.

Emma launched herself at Ava's legs, wrapping small arms around one knee and thigh, eyes rolling in a very Spencer fashion at the extremely common sight of her parents kissing.

“Hey there, little sister. I missed you, too,” Ava grinned, struck anew by how much Emma looked like their mother.

“It took you and Mom a long time to get here,” Emma smiled back, tilting her head to gaze up at her sister. “You're tall.”

Ava was laughingly agreeing when she heard Natalia say her name. She found herself engulfed in a warm hug and she returned it just as warmly, bending a little to wrap her arms around her step-mother.

“Welcome home, Ava,” Natalia said sweetly, sincerity in every syllable.

“Thank you. For inviting me to come live here and especially for making me feel like this really is home,” Ava replied, brown eyes suspiciously moist as she smiled down at Natalia.

“Ava? What did you and Mommy bring me?” Emma demanded impatiently. She tugged at Ava's hand. “Ava!”

“Okay, little Miss Bossy. Look in the back seat,” Ava answered.

Olivia and Natalia stood by the other side of the car, arms wrapped around each other's waists, smiling indulgently. The squeal of joy that issued forth from the back seat only widened those grins.

“Mom! Kittens!! Two kittens!” Emma shouted, practically jumping in her excitement.

“Yes, Emma, kittens!” Olivia answered, grinning. “But, you're going to have to share. One is yours and one is Ava's. They're sisters, just like the two of you. Isn't that good?”

“The best, Mom! Which one is mine?” Emma asked, her face glowing with happiness and excitement.

“Whichever one you want,” Ava answered, bending over Emma's back as the girl peered into the apple crate. “Mom and I picked them out and I love them both, so you get to pick the one you like the best, and I'll take the other one. Of course, they'll probably want to sleep together for a while. And they should probably stay here together for at least six months or so, don't you think?”

“Does that mean you're going to live here with us for a long time?” Emma asked her sister, her eyes wide in delight.

“Well, at least until our little friends here are big enough to be separated,” Ava answered, her own face as delighted as Emma's.

As the two began to discuss the relative cuteness of each kitten and possible names, Natalia turned to Olivia, sliding her arms around the taller woman's waist.

“Kittens, huh? Not bad,” she smiled, brown eyes twinkling in the fading light. “Let me guess: Ava's idea, right?”

Olivia opened her mouth to deny the charge, but quickly closed it. Natalia knew her too well.

“Yeah. You should have seen her. She was as excited as Emma picking them out,” Olivia admitted, grinning at the memory. “We were going to get her a huge ass pumpkin, which we still sort of did , but Ava saw the sign for the kittens and coerced me into getting not one, but two. Said they'd be lonely.” Olivia snorted at Natalia's expression. “I know, I'm easy.”

“Yes, you are, my love.” Natalia laughed. “It's one of your better qualities. I'm so glad you're home. I've missed you so much.”

“I've missed you, too. And Emma. And my own bed. Mostly the person in my bed, though,” Olivia replied, her eyes darkening as she gazed down at the woman she loved, at the perfect curve of her lips. She was just bending to explore those lips with her own when she was interrupted.

“Mommy, Ava thinks we should name the kittens, Emily and Charlotte,” Emma interjected, appearing from nowhere, as she often seemed to, to wedge herself between her two mothers.

Natalia chuckled at the thwarted look on Olivia's face. With a deep sigh, Olivia pulled away a little, meeting Ava's amused eyes.

“Thank god for a literate child,” Olivia pronounced. “I think that's a wonderful idea, Emma. And when you get a little bigger, Ava can read you Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights . ‘Cause Charlotte and Emily were sisters who were famous writers. Kinda cool, huh?”

Emma pondered the information for a moment, a frown creasing her forehead in an expression that Ava and Natalia both recognized as eerily similar to one that graced Olivia's face on a regular basis. Suddenly, she seemed to make a decision, the frown fleeing, replaced by another wide grin.

“Okay, but I want to call mine Emily. Emma and Emily.”

“That's fine with me, Em,” Ava agreed. “I like Charlotte.”

“So, Ava, why don't you take Emma and Emily and Charlotte and get them settled in their new home. By then, it'll be time for dinner. What do you say, Jellybean? Wanna help Ava move the kittens inside and get them settled in your room?” Olivia suggested, her gaze pointed as she looked at her older child.

“Okay, Mom,” Emma enthused, rushing back to the car and climbing in the back seat.

“And take your time,” Olivia advised Ava, her words spoken slowly and clearly. “I need to see a woman about another kind of kitty.”

“Olivia!!”

“Mother!!”

“What?!” Olivia squawked, looking from one shocked pair of brown eyes to another. “Great, now I have two of you.”

Continued in Elysium...