I'm out here picking flowers,

but all my seeds are left unsown.

Better off if he was coming home.

-"Coming Home," Gabrielle Aplin

---

July 26, 2018

Within one second of stepping into Raigan's house on the Thursday morning that marked the eleventh anniversary of Dawson's death, James almost got run over by Elizabeth, barrelling past the front door and into the living room with a towering stack of photo albums.

He had taken the day off work to spend with Raigan, and, as usual, Dawson's sisters and their husbands and children - all of whom still lived in America - and both Dawson and Raigan's parents had all come over as well. They had begun arriving the night before.

"Sorry," called Elizabeth dropping her armful onto the sofa. She began to stack them all up again, this time on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about it," said James. "Good to see you."

He turned into the kitchen where a flurry of people already bustled about the kitchen: Charlotte popping a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls and a breakfast casserole into the oven, Dawson's mother waving her wand at the kitchen knife and a pile of fruit, his father pulling plates out of the cabinet. And Piper sat at the kitchen table with three of Dawson's nieces whose names James could never keep straight. She looked downright uncomfortable. She was the youngest one here by ten years and she didn't know most of the guests particularly well. They came once a year for this occasion and sometimes sent a Christmas card and a small gift, but otherwise, they were strangers.

"Hey Pipe," he said. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her on the top of the head. She looked backwards up at him looking beyond relieved. "Where's your mum?"

"I don't know," she said. "She hasn't come down yet."

He gave her shoulders a squeeze and said, "I'm gonna go check on her." Piper's eyes flashed wider for a brief moment like she was saying 'please don't leave me alone in here again,' but James just smiled and headed back out in the entryway, kicked off his shoes on the doormat, and hopped up the stairs.

Raigan's door was shut, but the light was on. He knocked. "Rai?"

"You can come in," she said. Over the cacophony downstairs, he almost didn't hear her response. He pushed open the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him. Raigan had not yet begun to get ready. She still wore a pair of pajama shorts that James was pretty sure she'd had since Hogwarts, and a big t-shirt, her hair pushed off her face with one of those stretchy headbands Piper was always wearing. He found them all over the house.

She sat against the headboard, her knees pulled up and didn't look at him.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and took a look around. He had very seldom been in Raigan's room in all the time he had spent in her house. Most of the room was taken up by the bed, covered in a bright white comforter, but there was a chest of drawers next to the bathroom door, a navy armchair in the corner, and bookcase with a number of trinkets. 

He recognized another of her wedding photos on the wall to the right of the bed because it had always been there - a black and white moving image of the two of them dancing, Raigan's dress swirling around her - and another she would probably never take down of Dawson holding Piper when she was probably seven or eight months old. Both of them were laughing, squinty eyed and rosy-cheeked. Even back then, Piper had had exactly his sense of humor. The rest of the pictures had changed since whenever the last time he had come in was - James couldn't remember, that's how long it had been. They were all of Piper at various ages, except for one on her bedside table, which James was touched to see was a very old photo of the two of them the day they graduated from Hogwarts. .

"How you doing?" he asked when it became pretty clear that Raigan, although she had said he could come in, was not going to talk of her own accord. She lifted her chin and then just shook her head. Her eyes were already red and it was only eight AM. She opened her mouth to try to say something, but it took a while to come out.

James watched her face cycle through a whole spectrum of emotions and then, finally, she said. "I just really miss him." Her voice faded from that lump in your throat tightness to cracking with new tears to a barely there whisper all in that one single phrase. The first tear slipped out the outer corner of her eye and that was all it took. Her face screwed up and she covered it with both hands and sobbed. "Oh, Rai..." said James, already reaching out for her. She let her legs fall to the side and hugged him tight, mouth and nose hidden behind his shoulder.

James had no idea what to say. This was not an 'it's okay' moment. Not even eleven years later exactly. It was never okay. And worse than not knowing what to do was the fact that, without a doubt, this was the hardest James had ever seen Raigan cry. He eased his legs up on the bed, leaned against the headboard, and pulled her into his arms. Raigan took a deep, shaky breath and he knew she was trying to get herself under control.

"Don't Rai. If you need to cry, you should."

She covered her mouth again, curled herself up tighter. James ran his hand up and down her back and tried to his own breathing steady and even underneath her ragged breaths. He focused very hard on this and on nothing else, because even though he had just told her it was okay to cry, the longer it went on, the more nervous he got.

"Why does it feel so much harder now?" she asked. He did not know how long he'd been holding her. It had to have been quite a while. He briefly wondered if anyone downstairs was getting suspicious or worried or of they had noticed at all that Raigan had not yet appeared.

James ran his fingers through her hair to buy himself some time. "I don't know, Rai. I don't think it's really supposed to get easier. It just... well to be honest, I don't really know where I'm going with this."

Unbelievably, Raigan laughed the tiniest bit. It was quickly succeeded by a new onslaught of tears, but still. It was something.

"I guess I just mean that it sucks, and I wish it didn't happen to you." Raigan found his hand and squeezed. James squeezed back. Another minute or so and she started to calm down. This time, he was pretty certain it wasn't forced.

"Can I have a tissue?" she asked. James reached for the box on the bedside table and held it out to her. She took a few and sat up to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. When she was done, she sat back, inhaled slowly, and tipped her head onto his shoulder on the exhale. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"It's just a tissue," said James, hoping to make her laugh again. It was admittedly a pretty lame attempt, but he heard Raigan smile, a telltale exhalation.

"Still," she said.

And then they sat there, side by side, James with his arm over her shoulders, and they didn't talk or cry or do anything. They just sat and let things settle until Piper let herself in a while later. "Mum?" she said. "Are you okay?"

Raigan lifted her head up and nodded. "I'm okay," she said. She patted the spot next to her. "Come're sweetheart."

Piper crawled across the other side of the bed and plopped down by her mum. Raigan wrapped her arm around her daughter, and kissed her temple. "How are you, Pipe?" she asked.

Piper shrugged. "Aunt Charlotte made those one cinnamon rolls," she said.

"Did you have one?" asked Raigan.

Piper shook her head. "I wanted to wait for you guys," she said.

"You should go eat if you're hungry," said Raigan. "I might be a while still." Her voice still sounded a little stuffy and tired from crying.

"No thanks," said Piper. James laughed a little. "I'm not going down there again until one of you comes with me. I don't know anyone."

"You know Nana and Papa," said Raigan.

"They're too busy talking to everyone else. They see me all the time."

"Just be nice, alright?"

"I never said I wasn't being nice, I"m just saying I'm not going back down there until someone comes with me. A person can only small talk for so long and no one even knows what Gryffindor is so it's not like they're really interested in hearing about Hogwarts."

"I'm sure they're very interested, Pipe," said James. "You're a good storyteller."

Piper shot him a look like he had just issued her a great insult and sat back in a huff. He and Raigan smiled at each other. "I love this little family," said Raigan.

"Me too," said James.

And after a longer pause, looking down at her lap, Piper said, "Me too."

---

"James?" said Raigan, leaning over the edge of the stairs to see into the living room where everyone was gathered. It was about nine o'clock and things were starting to wind down. Piper had gone up to bed very early and Raigan hadn't argued because she knew it was not the most fun of days.

James tipped his head back over the back of the couch. "Yeah?" he said. Raigan took the last few steps on the stairs, coming around the banister into the living room.

"Piper wants you," she said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

James jumped up. "In her room?"

She nodded, folding her arms over her middle. She tipped her head to one side and tightened her lips; she looked worried.

James put his hand on Raigan's shoulder as he passed her, squeezed, and then headed up the stairs and over to the first door to the left of the landing. He knocked twice before he opened it a crack and stuck his head in. 

Piper's room was painted light purple and all her furniture was white. She'd hung a couple posters of her favorite band, Jinxed, with spellotape on the wall, and most of her wardrobe was on the floor, half-heartedly shoved towards the corner like she'd been told to clean up, but just wasn't feeling it. A stack of school books and a couple rolls of parchment lay all over her dresser, along with a broken quill and a mostly empty bottle of ink, a fanged frisbee, and a bottle of Sleekezee's Best Hairspray (Level Five Strong Hold!) with a moving cartoon of a woman spraying her hair full of product. The ceiling light was off, but her bedside lamp was on, giving the room a warm glow.

"Hi," said Piper without looking up. She sat on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest and the sheets over them. She'd taken her dark hair down from the messy bun it had been in earlier and it was crimped in funny places.

"Hey Pipe," said James, coming to sit on the edge of her bed. "What's up? You just going to bed?"

She shook her head. "I mean sort of."

James waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't so he asked, "You okay?"

Piper sighed and rested her chin on her knees. "Not really."

"Wanna talk about it?"

She nodded. He could see her trying to put together the words so he just waited, patient.

She let her knees fall into a cross-legged position and sat slouched over them. "It's just everyone was talking about my dad all day. And now that I'm older it feels like they expect me to participate. But I don't have any stories. I don't remember him at all. Everything I know is because other people told me." She balled up her sheets in her fists and frowned hard. "You can't tell my mom this, okay?"

James didn't make a promise either way, because he didn't know what she was about to say, but she kept going anyway.

"I don't miss him," said Piper. "I can't miss someone I don't remember. I've tried, because I feel guilty about it, but I can't. I just can't."

"I won't tell her," said James quietly. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched her.

"You think I'm a bad person, don't you? That's why I can't tell her."

"Pipe, no. Of course not," said James, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I think it's completely understandable. I just-" He stopped, sighed. "I don't think your mum would be able to see it that way. You know she's not really healed yet."

Piper looked up at him for the first time since he'd come in. Her eyes were glassy like she was near tears but doing everything in her power to keep them in. "I don't even know if I love him," she said. "Because he doesn't feel like my dad. You do." And that was when she began to cry.

James felt both touched and extremely sad at once. It wasn't fair that he'd gotten to spend years getting to know and be friends with Dawson while Piper, his own daughter, didn't have a single memory of him. Just as it wasn't fair that James had gotten to spend so much time with Piper and Dawson had gotten a single year. At the same time, it wasn't her fault that she didn't know him. Things had just happened that way. He couldn't blame her for feeling more attached to the people she did know even while people kept telling her she should be wishing things had been different.

"Piper," James said, reaching out to hug her. She moved closer to him and wrapped her arms tight around his ribs the way she did when she was little. "No one thinks you're a bad person."

Piper sobbed once and it broke his heart. "It feels like it," she said. Her voice was shaky. James smoothed his hand over her back.

"Look at me for a sec," said James, attempting to sit back a little in the midst of the death grip she had on him. She unhooked her hands and retreated to her slouchy seat, this time with her eyes lifted to him. "Pipe, listen. You're not a bad person, okay? You're not. I wish as much as anyone that you'd known him, because he was... one of the best people I've ever known. And your dad loved you. He loved you so much, Piper. He was so proud when you were born. He used to take you into the office with him to show you off and his entire desk was pictures of you and your mum. He would have been, no doubt, the best dad ever, and you're so much like him... you two would've been buddies. And that's why your mum hangs on so tightly. She knows that. You couldn't find a better guy anywhere. It's not fair that you didn't get to know him and love him too, but you're right, Piper. You are. You didn't get that chance and it's not your fault and no one's blaming you for not knowing him, okay? Especially not your mum."

"I know he loved me," said Piper. "That's why I feel guilty that I don't love him too."

"Don't," said James. "You're not doing anything wrong. Maybe you will someday. Maybe not. But you're not a bad person, Pipe." He pulled her back into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. Piper turned her face to the side, cheek against him. "I love you, girly," he said.

"Love you too," she murmured. He felt her take a deep shaky breath, but afterward her crying quieted. "Maybe I'll just go to bed now," she added after a minute, starting to pull away a little. "Thanks James." She laid down facing the wall and pulled the quilt up with her, all the way to her chin.

"Get some sleep, pretty girl," he said, smoothing her hair down. "Want the light off?"

"Yes please."

James reached over to hit the switch on the lamp since he'd left his wand downstairs. The room went dark except a panel of light coming in from the hallway. James leaned down to kiss her on the top of the head. "And for the record, you feel like a daughter too, Pipe."

She curled up tighter, but he thought she might have smiled. He heard her exhale through her nose.

"G'night," he said.

"Goodnight," she said, her voice a half-whisper.

James stood up from the bed and headed out, turning the door handle all the way as he closed the door so it wouldn't click loudly, just like he'd done when she was still a baby and he didn't want to wake her.

When he looked up, he saw Raigan, standing at the top of the stairs, her arms folded across her stomach. Angry tears stood in her eyes and her lips were tight. James froze, wondering how much she had heard. Probably all of it.

"Rai," he said, voice low. He did not want Piper to hear them. He took a step towards her, reaching out to put his hand on her arm.

"Why would you say that to her?" she asked, and although her face remained livid, her voice just sounded tired and broken.

James steered her back down the stairs and, because there were still people in the living room, into the kitchen. There was no way Piper was asleep yet.

"Raigan," he said, putting both hands on her shoulders. She didn't shake him off, but she looked like she wanted to. "Raigan," he said again. "She never had the chance to know him. You have to think about it from her perspective."

"I have," Raigan said. "And that's why I've done everything I can to make sure she knows who he was and how much of him is in her. She's so much like him, James. She's his daughter. I'm glad that you love her, James. But you are not her father. You aren't. And you have no right to pretend that."

James didn't think he had ever seen Raigan this angry. Her voice was low and spiteful and her eyes, though still glassy, were narrowed. Her cheeks has gone very, very white. This attitude was such a shocking turnaround from how broken and hopeless she had seemed that morning.

"I never said-" James started. He felt his head start buzzing the way it did when he got overwhelmed. "I said she was like a daughter, Rai. Like one."

"We both knew what you meant," Raigan said. She pulled away from his hands and turned away from him, leaning over the kitchen counter. She put her face in her hands.

James stayed quiet a long time. He didn't know what to say to her. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. He'd always hated ticking clocks. They drove him mad.

"Sorry," he said finally, but it came out too defensive so he took a moment to cool down and repeated it, hoping this time it came out more sincere. "I'm sorry."

Raigan sighed and lifted her face up. She pressed her forearms into the counter

James stood still, watching her hair slowly slip off her back and over her shoulders. He stepped forward and matched her position, so they stood side by side, and he looked straight down at his hands instead of at her. 

There were several dots of water on the counter that James was pretty sure were tears. Raigan had mastered the art of silent tears. She was the most secretly emotional person he had ever known. Today was the most he'd seen out of her in a long time. Most of the time, she was as solid and steady as could be. If she did falter, she picked herself up again so quickly he usually convinced himself it was okay to forget about it. He found it impossible to know if she was really okay or not.

Of course, James understood it completely, because it was one of the traits they had in common, hiding things.

"I'm sorry too," said Raigan. "I really appreciate everything you do, James. You know that."

"I do know that," he said.

"I just look at her and she's so grown up and so beautiful and... she did so well this year. So well. And I just think how proud he'd be of her, and I hate how much I want her to feel that. I want them to know each other and they can't."

She lifted one hand and brushed away the tears under her eyes. When she put her hand back down, she spread both hands very flat against the counter, pressing down hard, and then she relaxed them into loose fits. "I just really, really miss him," she whispered.

James stood up straight, looping his left arm into the space between the counter and her body to pull her upright, and then he wrapped his arms around her tight and though she seemed a little hesitant at first, she reciprocated.

"I'm not trying to take his place," he said. "I'd never be able to do that. But I do love Piper as much as if she was my daughter. I want her to feel like she has a whole family, because it's not her fault that her dad isn't here. You know I wish that wasn't true as much as you do. But I do love her. And I love you, Rai. You two are my family. Like you said this morning. I love our little family. We're a little unusual, but I love you and I love her and I think that's what counts."

Raigan didn't answer this, but she did hold onto him a little tighter. James waited to move until she did, but his eyes found the clock over her shoulder and he watched the it ticking closer and closer to ten o'clock at night. At the mention of family, Elise had popped into his head. He'd had it in his head that he would go to see her tonight. Raigan wasn't the only one who'd lost someone on this day.

"Rai," he said. "I think we should keep talking about this, for Piper's sake, but if you're okay I- well you should get some rest. It's been a long day. And I really need to see Elise right now."

She sniffed and pulled back from him, wrapping her arms around herself again. "Oh," she said.

"I just want to check on her too," he said, sticking his thumbs in his pockets.

Raigan blinked, clearing her eyes of the last tears. "Why now?" she asked.

"I uhm- well I guess I left this out when I told you about everything." He shook his head to clear his mind.

"It happened today too, didn't it?" she asked. Her voice came out flat. James nodded. Raigan's eyes pinched in at the corners and she pressed her lips together. "Okay," she said. "You should go then."

"You'll be okay?" he asked. "You don't need me here?"

"It's okay," she said. "I might go talk to Pipe if she's still awake."

"Okay," said James. "Thanks." He took a step back, glancing at the clock again. "Rai?"

She looked up.

"Don't... try not to be angry with Piper okay? She feels guilty already." Raigan nodded, her face impassive. All the light had gone out of her eyes. He hadn't seen it all day, even when they'd all been laughing over old stories, but she looked especially blank now.

---

Heaven help the ones who fly away

Heaven help the ones who have to stay and place the blame

Maybe what you think of me won't change

But I still hold on, hold on

Hold onto the old days

-"Old Days," Ingrid Michaelson

---

James arrived a short ways away from the cottage. Elise had the porch lights on which made it easier to trek through the sand in the dark. As he neared it, he saw that she was already outside, sitting curled up under a light blanket with a cup of tea in her hands.

James approached the porch cautiously, not wanting to scare her. He cleared his throat a little before he said, "Elise?"

She looked up, startled, but she relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Sorry it's so late," he said. "I know I shouldn't invite myself..."

"No, it's okay," said Elise. "Come sit down." James took the few steps up to the porch and came to sit on her right. The swing rocked back as he sat, and then settled. They just looked at each other a while. For once, her hair was not in a ponytail, but spun back into a french braid that barely extended from the base of her neck. She wore a thin black headband too, like the one Raigan had been wearing that morning; unruly wisps of hair curled up around it where they'd escaped from the braid.

Elise turned away and took a sip of her tea. James had forgotten how nice it was to have the ocean always there. It seemed like such a luxury, after years away, to just sit and listen to it.

"Is it okay that I came over?" James asked, looking out at the water. There was something extra beautiful about the inky black of the waves at night, fading right into the velvet black sky.

Elise nodded. It was funny, being with her. James felt like there were so many versions of the two of them, some of them vibrant and others quiet. He realized more and more every time he saw her that more than their past was drawing him back to her. Something about Elise resonated with him, like every little interaction was another key played on the piano, hitting him with a different tone, a different tenor, each note a high or a low point in their relationship.

"I just didn't want you to be alone."

Elise set her empty teacup on the ground and when she sat up, she took his hand and threaded their fingers together.

"Before I left..." James began. "Piper told me she didn't- she didn't think she missed her dad. She was feeling really guilty about it." He swallowed. He didn't know why he was telling Elise this. It wasn't what he had come for. But Elise listened well. She waited while he gathered his thoughts. "She said I felt more like a dad than he did and I told her she felt like a daughter too. And Raigan heard." James ran a hand through his hair. "She was mad. I think she's probably still mad." He sighed. "You don't have to say anything to that. I just needed to tell someone."

Elise didn't say anything and he was glad for it. Instead she gave his hand a squeeze and adjusted the blanket so it lay over both their knees.

"Is Raigan okay?" she asked after a while.

James shook his head. "I think she's been pretending for a long time."

"Me too," said Elise.

James circled his thumb over the back of her hand.

Elise sank down to lean into his shoulder. He let go of her hand and slid it behind her back to hold her around the waist. There was another long silence before Elise spoke again.

"James," she said quietly.

"Mmhmm." He moved his fingers in absentminded patterns on her waist.

"What does it feel like to have a kid?"

"I mean I don't, really," he said, frowning.

"You do," said Elise.

James smiled a tiny bit. "I don't know," he said. "It's hard. I don't know what I'm doing half the time. But I'm constantly thinking about her. Anything I do, she's on my mind somewhere. And it's still different because Pipe's not mine. I don't make the decisions. But I love her a lot. She's one of the best things in my life. She made me grow up. Stop being such a- I don't know. I just had to stop being so selfish."

Elise sat up and readjusted her position. She angled her body towards him so they could look at each other while they talked. Her face was back lit and shadowed. She looked him hard in the eye until she started talking and then her gaze trailed back to the water. "When I was pregnant, I spent a lot of time wishing I wasn't," she said. Her voice was very soft but very steady.

A cold breeze rushed at them off the sea and raised goosebumps on Elise's arms.

"I'm sorry," she said. She looked at him again and though her eyes were wide, her forehead was creased.

James leaned forward and wrapped her up in his arms. "I'm sorry too," he said. Elise felt so small. He could feel every vertebrae in her spine when he smoothed his hand down her back. She lifted her chin to rest on top of his shoulder and her hands went to their automatic spot around his neck, fingers brushing the ends of his hair. When they let go, she tipped her knees into his lap and sat back.

James stared straight ahead at the water, watched thick, black, inky waves rolling in towards them only to be sucked away again. The ocean was like that: always reaching for an unattainable something that it never quite caught up with.
In his periphery, he saw Elise turn her head and look at him, hard. She stared for at least thirty seconds and her gaze was like a weight in his face. He could actually feel the pressure points of her eyes like they were fingers.
Finally, she turned away towards the water and looked with him, instead of at him. A cool wind whipped off the water, spraying them with cold, salty mist. Elise lifted her hand to brush a droplet off her nose. She returned her fingers to his, interlocking them.
"What about you?" asked Elise. "Are you okay?"

James swallowed. It had never been more apparent that no one had asked him how he was feeling than at that moment. "Better than I used to be," he said. But then as the words came out, James wasn't sure if she was really asking only about it anymore or if she was just asking "how are you?" and really not looking for a surface level answer.
"I guess I just don't know what I'm doing with you, Elise" He said, though it had little to do with the conversation. " I'm scared out of my mind that I'll screw it up again."
And with that, Elise pulled him back into her arms: his head down in her chest, and her cheek resting on top of his head, and her arms not just holding him but enveloping him. James couldn't remember ever being hugged like this except maybe as a very young child and only ever by his mother. It made him feel like crying, like letting go of a piece of the many things he'd been shoving down into the back most regions of his heart for as long as he could remember. Every failure, every embarrassment, every loss, every sadness, and most of all Elise: they all lived there. The things that tugged at him. And she lived back there not because she was a stain or a bad thing he wanted to erase but because her consciousness was persistent in him, but not loud. She was never quite out of his mind, but she rarely, if ever, demanded his attention. It wasn't her way, not even in his internalized idea of her. Every time he thought about Elise, it was a choice.

"You're doing fine," she said.

James didn't really want to move, but he also wanted to see her so he sat up. Eye contact wasn't easy, but not in the nervous way. It felt heavy, full of too many mistakes they couldn't take back. Elise broke it first, sat by his side once again, and leaned into him.

She took a long, slow breath and said, "Can we just talk about work?"

James couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah," he said, turning his face to kiss her hair. "We could do that."