Morrighan couldn't feel her feet, but they were walking away, going into the other room to pack the twin's pitiful belongings, finding the stuffed bunny Meghan hid under her bed for bad nights. She mechanically packed everything into two shopping bags she found under the sink, including her few clothes and the tiny stash of bills she'd been saving for the rent.
Putting the bags next to the door, Morrighan’s wooden footsteps returned to the couch. Foam and vomit coated her mother's mouth, her heaving chest beginning to slow. Part of her brain screamed at her to do something: to get her mother up and clear her airway, to help her walk. But she sat quietly, breathing slowly as she watched her mother’s eyes glaze. "No more, Ma," she whispered sadly. "Ya gotta let them have a chance now." Then, she turned, picking up the two bags and walked out the door, locking it behind her.
***
"That water must be freezing." Maura jerked violently, startled as the water splashed over the sides of the copper tub. It was full night, and James was correct, the water she huddled in was ice cold. He was standing in the opening of the tent, his blue eyes appraising her, brow furrowed at her expression. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she croaked. Clearing her throat, Maura tried again, "Yes, of course. I'll hurry out so you can bathe."
He shook his head. "It's all right. I took a shower in the group tent." He put a towel next to the tub and left her alone. Maura's jaw dropped. James had never missed a chance to view her naked body. Drying and dressing for bed quickly, she ventured back to their tent. He was sitting in the chair under the lamp, going over some charts from the dig. Maura stopped in front of the bed.
All the cushions were gone, two large mattresses piled on top of each other replaced them. His keen eyes followed hers. Nodding stiffly, Maura crept onto her side, curling up in a ball. She heard the soft movements of James undressing and turning off the lanterns. She stiffened a bit as the mattress dipped as he made himself comfortable.
To Maura's utter astonishment, the next thing she heard was her strange husband’s deep, even breathing as he fell asleep.
***
It was James who dreamt that night. He was thinking of his mother as he fell asleep, and it became difficult to know what was memory and what was a dream.
"Mother- let me help you-" waking to his groans, Maura laid still for a moment, trying to believe her ears. James- cool emotionless James was having a nightmare? "He's wrong- I can-" he groaned miserably, a sound utterly alien to him.
James could sense that ice-cold feeling in his guts- the one that told him he'd failed again to protect her from The Pastor.
His mother weeping was softly from the corner of the room as his father finished switching ten-year-old James. "Disrespect your father! Disrespect God! How dare you disagree with me!" The Pastor threw the switch down in disgust. “Your mother is perfectly well and capable of her duties in the community! It is expected of us to lead by example!" James's eyes cut to his mother Sarah, who was trying to cough quietly. The Pastor's eyes followed in the same direction and he growled again, seizing his son's collar. "Do you understand, James?" He shook the boy again. "Do you!"
Closing his eyes to his mother's silent plea, James nodded. "Yes, Sir," he gritted out between clenched teeth.
It was one of many battles between James and his father. The Pastor knew the boy would behave as long as it would keep his mother out of trouble. That ended when he turned fourteen. As The Pastor raised a switch, James ripped it from his father's hands and snapped it in two. "You will not strike me again, Pastor." He stubbornly endured the cold-water baths and meager food his father demanded as part of the family's "penance" for their wealth.
The Pine family lived in a huge Tudor, filled with priceless paintings and beautiful antiques. And as much as The Pastor craved the wealth and the status, the more he despised himself for having it. So, the "penance" was requiring the entire family to live in poverty within their mansion. James's mother was expected to work with every charity, volunteer at the local hospital, and head fundraising efforts for every school in the parish. The Pastor's demands on Sarah's time weakened her already fragile health and sparked more arguments between father and son. He could still remember the final night he spent under The Pastor's roof- walking home in the dark from his tutoring session to hear the fragile strains of Chopin, his mother playing her beautiful piano to welcome him home. The last of 'Prelude Op.28 No.4 in E Minor' was cut off abruptly as the sounds of The Pastor shouting and Sarah's tears greeted James as he raced through the door.r
"You will not bully her again!" he'd shouted, standing between his parents.
The screaming match between father and son that night ended any connection James had with his parents again. Sarah came to his bedroom, weeping and holding her stiff and furious son in her arms for the last time. "I contacted an old friend at Eton College," she said, smoothing his dark curls, "they're going to accept your exam results and you'll be starting there mid-year."
James pulled back, looking at her reddened eyes. "I'm not leaving you alone here with that- that- lunatic!" he hissed.
"You will," Sarah said firmly, nodding. "You will. You will go to Eton and make me proud of you, just as I have always been. Your father-"
"He's not my father!" James shouted, enraged, "He has no soul! He doesn't deserve your kindness!"
The rest of the talk that night was held in whispers and sobs, but in the morning, their only son was gone. James's success at Eton and then Cambridge was spectacular. If anyone had ever told him that he was much like his father, James would have likely punched them. But he did use the cold intensity learned from his father to his advantage, creating the intimidating and frigid shell that fit him like a glove. The last time he showed strong emotion was the day he received word from a neighbor that his mother was gone.
"Mr. Pine?" The voice of his secretary was nervous, knowing he hated unsolicited calls.
"Yes," he answered absently, looking through a document.
"You have a call, it's from a Mr. Martin Sotheby, he says he's an old family friend?"
James's brow arched, "Sotheby? Put him through."
"James! I'm so glad it's you, I've had a devil of a time finding-"
"Mr. Sotheby?" Pine cut through his old neighbor's greeting. "What can I do for you?"
There was a pained pause, and Martin's voice was kind. "James, your mother has passed away."
James’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, then he forced himself to speak. "What happened?"
