Hi all, D. L. Croisette. Popping in with a warning on the chapter below. It contains scenes that may be a trigger for some, namely around death and a miscarriage. 

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The coffee maker hissed as the last drops dribbled into the pot. Mary poured the steaming liquid into two mugs, adding a dollop of cream to one, stirring it slowly. The other cup waited for Finn, due to come down at any moment. In the quiet calm of her sister's bedroom yesterday, Mary had reiterated her promise to Emily to look out for Finn, to do what she could to ease his pain while Emily did what she could to keep herself and the baby healthy.

Not an easy task, yet Mary determined to do her best. She couldn't erase the errors of the past, but she hoped her actions might help Finn understand she wanted to turn over a new leaf. She now grasped why Emily insisted Finn be surrounded by family. And family was what Finn was going to get. Whether or not he wanted it.

As if on cue, the back door opened and Simon strode in, hands full. Without a word, he placed the bags he carried on the table, crossed the room, and took Mary in his arms. She leaned into him, letting the gentle up and down motion of his fingers on her back ease away the tension of a night with little sleep. Like last night, he kissed the top of her head. "How are... things?"

Ever the quick learner, Simon didn't call Emily out by name this time. Her reaction to his question the night before had been wrong, but honest. For some reason she felt like he knew her dark secret, understood what upset her beyond the fear for her sister even though no one knew because she'd never told a single sole.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Her mother had known part of the story. Maybe.

Back then, she'd considered telling her father for a moment. They were so alike and had always had a secret language, a connection. But when it came to it, she couldn't make the words come out, fearing his disappointment. All her life he'd whispered in her ear how perfect she was, how everyone would want to be her, how she would one day marry a prince. As she got older, he would point out the good people to interact with, those worthy of her time. Simon the bartender was never on the list. Nor was Tony the local mechanic. All spring, despite her father's dislike, she'd been flirting with both, wanting Simon, but using Tony to make him jealous. Until the night Simon's blue eyes weren't there and the flirting ended.

Mary snuggled into Simon's warm, firm chest, like she'd wanted to all those years ago. "I heard them in the night, don't think anyone got much sleep."

The past haunted Mary all night. In the final days before her mother's death, the test Mary took confirmed she was pregnant. High on morphine, her mother had smiled as Mary spilled the news when they were alone together, desperate to tell someone, anxious for guidance. To this day, Mary wasn't sure her mother even understood the words and their meaning. She told her everything, the pressure she felt to sleep with Tony after months of teasing, the blame she put on Simon for not being there that night to stop them, how scared she was, how Tony avoided her afterwards. Her mother took her confession, squeezed her hands, then drifted into a drug-infused slumber.

A week later, at the reception after her mother's funeral, she'd felt the first pangs of pain. While the world around her cried for the loss of a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend, a pillar of the community, Mary wept for the loss of two lives, both of which changed her life forever.

She inhaled Simon's fresh, clean scent, a whiff of lemon tickling her nose. "Emily's staying in bed today."

Being in Bridgetown again, here in this house. Emily's pregnancy, Simon, all of it brought up emotions Mary suppressed for years. Parts of her heart felt nineteen again and Simon offered now the solace she'd craved at that time. It was so nice to have someone comfort her, take her side. The warm hand a welcome presence. Everyone worried for Beth, the wild child, or Emily, the sad child. No one ever worried about her. Through the years, she always had to be strong, proper, perfect.

"Morning." Finn's emotionless voice sliced through the air, aimed at the embraced couple. Mary practically pushed herself away from Simon. She caught his expression, expecting to see... well, she didn't know what she expected. Simon's blue eyes twinkled, gave her arm a squeeze, and turned to his brother.

"Morning pops." His smile lit up the room, his voice loud and jovial. Mary bit her cheek, expecting Finn to explode or worse implode. To her surprise, the other man's lips curled and Finn rubbed his chest. "How's the patient?"

Finn's lips fell flat. "Grumpy."

"Our Emily? Never. Don't believe it." Simon pushed his brother into a kitchen chair. "Must be hungry." Finn's eyes flashed at his brother, and Simon's smile wavered. "I brought all her favourites. Tim was up early, making his famous soup. Shall I put some in a bowl for her?"

"You can try."

"That's the spirit, daddy oh."

Mary decided that was enough of the father talk. Finn's smile hadn't returned. "I made you coffee." The younger brother took the offered mug, mumbling a thank you.

Simon searched the kitchen for something to put the soup in. Mary pushed him out of the way, pulled a bowl from the top cupboard at the end, placed it on a wooden tray she pulled from a lower one, and fished a spoon out of the cutlery drawer. Simon and Finn both watched her.

"Well, Mary can't cook but she sure knows how to set a table."

Mary glared at Simon while attempting to suppress a smile. "Ha Ha."

"Good thing I brought breakfast as well." Simon pulled out containers from one of the other bags, and the aroma of bacon made Mary's mouth water.

"I'm not hungry."

Simon clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You, not hungry? That'll be the day." Mary passed a fork and knife to Simon, who plunked it down beside the open carton of food. "Don't make me snitch to Emily about you refusing to eat."

Mary watched in awe as Finn snatched the fork, stabbed it into an egg, the soft yoke running everywhere, butchered it a little, and then shoved the food in his mouth. She passed another fork and knife to Simon. "Coffee?"

"Did you make it?" teased Simon.

"I can make coffee, Si." His eyes widened at the shortened form of his name. Where had that come from? The 'mon' hung in the air before them.

"Who am I to resist?"

Finn grunted and Simon looked away, the moment broken. He focused on pulling out more containers while Mary concentrated on pouring another cup. She had no idea how he liked his coffee, never having seen Simon in the morning before today. About to ask, Simon anticipated her need.

"I like it black. No time to look for cream when you're serving the morning crowd." Two containers sat in front of two empty chairs beside Finn at the breakfast table. Simon pulled out a chair, indicating Mary should sit down.

"Thanks, but I'd like to get this soup to Emily." Mary swallowed. "If that's okay with you, Finn?"

Blue irises identical to his brother's bored into her and Mary held her breath, sure he'd reject her gesture. She went to put the tray holding the steaming bowl of soup down when Finn put her out of her misery with a slight nod. Holding his gaze, she silently thanked him and the smallest barb in the wire digging into her heart, straining her relationship with her brother-in-law, fell away.

Simon called after her. "Tell her I love her, and I want to see an empty bowl."