He stares down at the grave, at the little white casket in the newly disturbed dirt. The casket has a viewing window, but his mother had it packed full of flowers to obscure Sarah’s face.
“We don’t need more of them seeing her,” she had said. She ordered the cheapest flowers, and most of them were half wilted by the time they had been laid into the casket.
Ephraim would know. He watched as they were placed inside, and he stood by as the lid was closed and fastened, and he watched as it was carried out to the ground. The grave itself was on hospital property. For all his family’s riches, they were laying their only daughter to rest in a pauper’s grave in an empty field. Her only company were the graves of the other patients who had remained unclaimed or unwanted.
What a fitting place.
This is your fault.
Sarah had been wanted, but not by her family. Emma Fultz stood close to Ethel, her usual sack apron exchanged for a black cotton dress and a wool cape. Ephraim glanced at her, but she only stared past him with empty eyes, her gaze resting on the little white box. It was December. It was too cold for her thin dress, but she barely shivered as she kept her eyes locked onto the grave. Her hat was off-kilter and too large for her head.
A little snippet of Ephraim and Ethel post Mill Valley. Ethel works as the head nurse in a small children's ward, and Ephraim has positioned himself as a psychiatrist in the same institution. Slice of life with a reference to Emma Fultz my beloved.
Author's note: Yes, I finally figured out how to save Emma from a life of perpetual torture and loneliness in Pennhurst. This plot hole has been bugging me for over a year, so I'm happy to finally begin to wrap it up.
Ephraim and Ethel might adopt her, honestly.
- Boston, MA, mid 1899 -
“Ephraim, have you seen my hairbrush?”
Ephraim pokes his head out of the bathroom door and peers across the hallway at Ethel. She’s still wearing her dressing gown, and she frantically searches through the clutter on her vanity in search of the hairbrush. He smiles to himself and sets down his comb, placing his hands on her shoulders as he peers down at the vanity.
Ethel huffs in frustration, having found nothing in the drawers. Ephraim gazes at her in the mirror, smiling as he watches her.
“You know, I could just buy a new one.”
Ethel turns around to look at him, her hair falling into her face. “No,” she says, brushing the stray hair aside. “I’ll find it, eventually. It’s alright.”
She smirks, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. “But I might borrow your comb in the meantime.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Ephraim’s voice is serious, but Ethel knows he’s joking. She smiles, raising an eyebrow as she looks at him. “Oh yes I would, Dr. Bellows. I might even steal your pomade too.”
“And what are you going to do with that?”
She shrugs. “I’ll hold it hostage, naturally.”
Ephraim rolls his eyes lovingly, turning towards the bed to grab his vest and jacket. “What do you think we’ll have to deal with today?”
Ethel arranges her hair into a bun, pinning it into place as she speaks. “I don’t know. Maybe a stubbed toe or spilled juice?” She smiles, happy to finally be dealing with simple problems, for once. Working in a children’s ward had its challenges, of course, but most days were simple and quiet, due in no small part to the fact that the ward currently held only 3 inhabitants, a fact that she was endlessly grateful for.
She had seen enough children suffering to last a lifetime. Spilled juice and stubbed toes were a happy respite.
“What about you?” She asks, standing from the vanity to put on her corset. “How has it been? I haven’t had a chance to ask.”
Ephraim adjusts his collar, staring at his reflection in the dresser mirror. “It’s been usual. I sent a letter to Alan three weeks ago, so hopefully he can send the transfer papers soon.”
“Oh, I hope so!” Ethel smiles, her eyes gleaming with hope. “After everything she’s been through…..”
Ephraim nods, thinking of the poor girl left to rot in Pennhurst.
This is your fault! You did this to her! You did this-
SHUT UP!
He shakes his head, willing the thoughts away. They’ve lessened considerably since he left Mill Valley, but occasionally they still cling to him, refusing to leave.
“I just hope that she’s alright. Well….as well as she can be, considering.”
Ethel nods. “I hope so too. She took it so hard, after Sarah-”
She stops herself nearly instantly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
Ephraim shakes his head, walking closer to Ethel. “No, it’s alright. You shouldn’t have to censor yourself for my sake.”
“I don’t want to upset you.”
“Don’t worry, I manage that just fine on my own.”
The air hangs thick between the two of them, until Ephraim pats his pockets and continues on with his day, as if he hadn’t just been stricken with images of the horrors he had inflicted, the nightmares that he had only just escaped.
Ethel swallows, watching him closely. She steps forward, taking his hand into her own, mirroring the night Sarah had been found. “I’m always here.” She says gently.
Ephraim nods, his eyes closed, his mind whirring. “I know.” He opens his eyes, smiling stiffly, forcing his demons away. “You’re too kind to me, you know?”
Ethel shakes her head, smiling fondly. “I’m not kind enough.” She counters, breathing deeply.
“You aren’t a bad man, Ephraim. You have a good heart. Don’t forget that.”
Ephraim would beg to differ, considering everything that he had done, but she seemed so sincere, so certain, that he didn’t dare defy her.
After a moment of silence, he settles for a simple “If you say so.”
She squeezes his hand before releasing it. “I do.”
The Bellows Book - Ethel’s Resignation (Sneak Peek)
I’m so excited to share this one with you all! It’s been in my drafts for months and I finally got around to polishing it up tonight. Obviously it will be much longer than this once it’s fully finished, but here’s a nice teaser for the full chapter. This contains MANY illusions to other parts of The Bellows Book, so don’t be alarmed if some references make no sense at this point. I promise that everything will fall into place once I can get more content ready for publishing. Time has just been a huge problem now, especially because my college classes have recently gotten very intense and I spend almost all of my time writing academic papers these days.
Content Below The Cut
Ephraim was being a coward, and he knew it. Rather than facing Ethel like he knew he ought to, he was hiding away in his room like a scared child. His father and brother were both at work at the mill, and Delanie was off making social calls with Gertrude. Surprisingly, his grandmother could be quite social when she wanted to be.
Sliding his feet off of his bed, he moved to his window once more, just in time to spot Ethel doubled over in some sort of fit. He opened the window slightly and was greeted with the sounds of a hacking cough, followed by a clearing of the throat. As Ethel began her walk down the driveway, he noticed that even her footsteps appeared weak. She plodded along slowly through the snow, nearly tripping a handful of times.
Ephraim wanted to help her. He wanted to rush out of the mansion and take her by the arm and help her home. He didn’t care that it would involve seeing Ruth again, or that it would certainly damage his reputation beyond repair when the world discovered what Ethel had learned. Why she hadn’t told them yet, he didn’t know.
He watched as she reached the end of the path, and then slowly made the turn onto the road back towards town. Another thought of concern flashed through his mind before he pushed it aside.
No! He thought. She’s tainted. She carries it - that curse - in her blood!
He turned around, his back pressed against the velvet of the curtains. He thought of Ethel, and of everything that could have been, of what might have happened if he hadn’t-
NO!
No! No! No!
Sometimes he feels as though he ought to beat himself in the head to push away his thoughts. This is one of those times.
He stood there for a while longer, listening to the ticking of the clock and the chirping of the few birds who braved the snow.
They reminded him of her, braving the snow in an attempt to bring something good to the bleak of winter.
He wanted to beat the thoughts away again.
Finally, once he was fully satisfied that Ethel was gone, he moved downstairs to retrieve the package she had left. Placing it on the foyer table, he carefully opened it. First there was a gingham tea towel, followed by a small batch of sweets and a few canned goods. At the bottom of the basket lay an envelope full of patient files, and a note in Ethel’s writing. Abandoning the basket and the food, Ephraim ascended the stairs with papers in hand.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back towards the kitchen, towards Sarah’s room. No, he thought. Now is not the time to dwell on old sins.
Slipping back into his bedroom, he slowly closed the door behind himself and moved towards his desk. He placed the files unceremoniously atop a pile of medical books and began to read Ethel’s letter.
To Whom It May Concern,
Regarding my employment at Pennhurst State Hospital —
Resignation.
Ephraim wanted to scream, to throw something, to reach for his belt to have a go at Sarah-
No!
No, that’s what started all of this to begin with!
Shut up!
No!
You murdered her!
It’s your fault that Ethel hates you!
She would have loved you, and you ruined it!
She couldn’t have loved me.
Ephraim was ripped away from his thoughts by the sound of the front door slamming open. Judging by the sound of heavy shuffling, the family had arrived home. He scrambled to hide Ethel’s letter, finally deciding on shoving it under his pillow.
He straightened his tie, smoothed his jacket, and was just about to step out onto the landing when Gertrude brushed past him, her pearls clicking together as she walked.
“Well, don’t you look disgusting!”
“Grandmother, I-”
She waved her hand in dismissal, the other still firmly grasping her cane.
“I may not be able to see it, but I can smell it. You’re having trouble with that little girl from the hospital, and it’s obvious that you can’t control the situation on your own! You’re the talk of the town because of her, and if it doesn’t get settled soon, I’ll have to-”
“She’s resigning, Grandmother. She handed in her letter today.”
Gertrude’s face instantly softened.
“Oh, well that’s good. Very good. More scandal is the last thing we need in this family.”
She leaned in closer, her milky eyes staring directly into Ephraim’s.
“You know that better than anyone.”
Ephraim nodded, although she couldn’t see. Satisfied, she continued down the hallway, her dog following close behind her.
I bring you The Bellows Bros™ and their Wholesome Girlfriends™ in meme form.
(P.S. Ephraim flirts with awkward poses because this man doesn’t possess one emotional bone in his entire body so he just....does that instead. Ethel is visibly excited by the aforementioned pose because she is sort of an idiot but we love her for that, and I say that in the most affectionate way possible. Harold looks like he’s seen some stuff, and he has.)
Summary: A series chronicling the life of the Bellows family. Covers their early years as well as the eventual death of Sarah Bellows, and the consequences of that death. Overlaps with Ethel. Contains my own characters as well as characters from the film. Stories marked with an asterisk denote the ones that cover events directly or loosely mentioned in the film.
Main Tag: The Bellows Book
Fics:
grief is a most peculiar thing (sarah & ephraim)**
taffy and a warm jacket (sarah & ephraim)
words can never hurt me (gertrude bellows)**
Summary: An AU series about what could have happened if Ephraim confronted his prejudice during his time at medical school and returned to Mill Valley with a new outlook on his sister’s albinism. As he begins a secret relationship with Ruth, an albino circus performer, his relationship with his family becomes increasingly strained. In a different timeline and universe than my other stories
Main Tag Link: Pearl Street
Fics:
no one’s going to hurt you anymore (sarah & ruth) part 1 / part 2 / part 3
Summary: A short series covering Sarah’s time in the asylum, as well as her friendship with one of it’s long term residents, Emma Fultz.
Main Tag Link: Undesirable
Fics:
nowhere to go (sarah & emma) tw: asylum setting
tangled stiches - a short christmas tale (link to be added on Christmas Eve!)
And finally, I raise you this iconic meme. This is honestly the best way I could describe their personalities. Ethel is just an adorable idiot who adores Ephraim. Ephraim is having a mental breakdown, because when is this man ever truly mentally stable. Ruth is just flirting with everyone while doing an over the top pose, because what would she be if she didn’t do over the top things at every opportunity?
@shapeshiftersandfire I promise I’ll stop blowing up your notifications after this one 😂
Angstember Prompt No. 1 - “They Told Me You Were Dead”
(this turned out to be way more fluff than angst, but ehh oh well)
{spoilers for The Bellows Book}
Ephraim swallows at the thought of Harold, the sadness welling in his throat. A tear slips down his cheek, and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t try to hide it. As Ethel silently watches him, she realizes that she is looking at the same man that she left at Pennhurst; the one who is so full of self-hatred and grief and doubt that it’s a wonder that he’s even still standing.
“They told me you were dead”
Ephraim stands at the bottom of the stairs, his hat crumpled in his hands. He shifts from side to side, waiting for a response.
Ethel pulls the shawl tighter around herself. She’s smaller now than she was at Pennhurst, and her eyes are sunken. Still, her complexion is warm and her eyes are bright.
She’s getting better, he thinks.
Ethel shakes her head. Her hair floats around her face, the bun at the nape of her neck doing little to contain the soft curls. “No,” she says softly. “Did Ruthie tell you that?”
Ephraim takes a tentative step forward. The light snow crunches under his feet, and as he steps forward, he notices Ethel shivering. “No, she didn’t. The doctors at Pennhurst...they said….”
He trails off. He can’t bring himself to say it.
They stand in silence for a moment, Ephraim shifting back and forth while Ethel shivers quietly. She bites her lip, unsure of what to say.
“Diphtheria,” she says finally. “They thought it was TB at first, because of Violet.”
Her eyes well at the thought of Violet. Poor, poor sweet Violet...
And Harold too....
Ephraim swallows at the thought of Harold, the sadness welling in his throat. A tear slips down his cheek, and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t try to hide it. As Ethel silently watches him, she realizes that she is looking at the same man that she left at Pennhurst; the one who is so full of self-hatred and grief and doubt that it’s a wonder that he’s even still standing.
The man who realized too late that he wanted to do good with his life.
The old Ephraim is gone, and Ethel is delighted.
She descends the stairs slowly, partly because of her weakness and partly due to the fact that she wants to be gentle. Ephraim has never been gentle; it isn’t his forte. However, he needed gentleness. He had needed gentleness his whole life and had been denied it at every turn, and that denial had bred a dangerous hatred in him, but that hatred was gone now. Ethel could see that plainly.
Reaching out, she places a hand on his arm, just below his shoulder. She pulls him closer to her, and he obliges. He still doesn’t look at her, however. He stares ahead as hot tears roll down his face, his jaw set tightly and his teeth clenched.
Ethel slides her hand up his arm, allowing it to rest on his shoulder. She rests her other hand on his forearm and gently turns him to face more towards her. When he still doesn’t look at her, she moves her hand to his face, her thumb tracing over his cheek.
Finally, he looks at her, and for once his eyes are soft. “Come inside,” she says softly. “You’ll get sick out here in the cold.”
He nods silently, and Ethel hooks her arm through his as she leads him up the steps and to the large oak door. Ephraim thinks of how silly it is that he - a doctor - is being led by a sick woman, but he says nothing. For once in his life, he doesn’t protest.
The stairs are icy and slick, and for a moment Ethel falters. Ephraim snaps out of his stupor and steadies her before she falls. When she regains her balance, she glances over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes gazing into his. It goes unsaid, but Ephraim understands completely.
Thank you.
You’re welcome.
They’ve never stood so close before, but Ephraim has little time to process this before the door swings open. Warm air rushes onto the doorstep as Ethel quickly pulls him inside. She shuts the door behind herself and laughs softly as she brushes snow from his shoulders. “You’re so red!” she cries, and Ephraim can’t decide if it’s because of the cold, or because of her. As he glances around the room, he notices Ruth emerging from what must be the kitchen. She’s wiping her hands on an apron, and the hem of her gingham skirt is speckled with flour. They lock eyes for a moment, and Ruth pretends to not notice the fact that he is as red as a beet.
Ethel laughs softly again, and Ruth smiles.
She hasn’t heard Ethel laugh in months, and despite her hatred for Ephraim Bellows, she can’t help but be happy to hear her cousin’s laughter. Ethel turns to her in excitement.
“He’s come back!” she exclaims, and Ruth nods in acknowledgment.
When Ethel turns her back, however, Ruth locks eyes with Ephraim once again. A silent threat passes between the two of them before Ruth quickly turns back to the kitchen, leaving them all alone. Ephraim wants to explain everything to her. He wants to assure her that he’s changed now, but he knows she wouldn’t believe him, not after what happened to Sarah.
Sarah.
Tears prick at his eyes at the thought of her, but this time he fights them. There’s no sense in upsetting Ethel. Not now, at least. He wonders half-heartedly if she’s seen Sarah’s files yet. Surely she has, after Ruth nearly broke into his office to berate him. Despite that, he isn’t sure. He doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, however, because Ethel soon ushers him into the parlor.
It’s a cozy room, with plush sofas and armchairs scattered around the room. A large fireplace sits against the far right wall, a plush pink armchair sitting in front of it. The chair is out of place with the rest of the furniture, and Ephraim decides that it must be Ethel’s. A side table sits beside it, its top covered in novels, further confirming Ephraim’s suspicions. They sit together on the sofa closest to the door. It’s a soft cream color, and it reminds Ephraim of home.
He hates to be reminded of that place.
Just as they begin to settle themselves, Charles walks into the room and seats himself in the armchair opposite the pair. He stares at Ephraim for a moment before picking up a nearby newspaper and flipping it open.
Ethel shifts uncomfortably in her seat, feeling awkward now that her cousin is watching her. She knows what Ruth thinks of Ephraim, and therefore what Charles thinks by extension. She fiddles with the edge of a nearby pillow, her eyes trained steadily on the ground.
Ephraim, meanwhile, taps his foot nervously on the Persian rug that sits under their feet. It’s a pale green color, and it produces a soft thud, thud every time his shoe taps its surface. The only sounds now are the crackling of the fireplace, the whoosh of a turning paper, and the soft thud, thud of Ephraim’s shoe.
Ethel clears her throat, her voice still weak from the effects of diphtheria. “I missed you,” she whispers, her voice cracking a bit as she does so. Ephraim nods. “So did I.”
She nods in return, the remaining hair tumbling from the loose bun as she does so. Normally, it would be improper for a woman to wear her hair loose around anyone but the closest of family members, but considering the circumstances, neither she nor Ephraim is bothered. She’s sick, of course, and sometimes allowances must be made.
Ephraim swallows as his mind once again darts to Sarah.
You should have made allowances for her, too.
He shakes his head slightly, pushing the thoughts away. Now is not the time to upset himself, or Ethel. Instead, he focuses on her. Her hair is long, and it curls softly, but whether it’s by nature or by human manipulation, Ephraim isn’t sure. Either way, he decides, it suits her.
Suddenly Ruth calls from the kitchen for Charles, and he sets aside his paper with a look of annoyance. “I’m coming!” he calls, throwing a glare in Ephraim’s direction before striding out of sight.
When he’s out of their line of sight, Ethel smiles clumsily at Ephraim. She turns more towards him, her knees now pointed in his direction. She reaches out and grasps his hand, all the while keeping her eyes trained on his. She leans her head back onto the sofa while she watches him. It's as if she's unsure of what to say - and she isn't sure, especially not after what happened in Mill Valley.
Finally, she decides on the truth.
“I’m glad that you’re better.”
Ephraim nods, his eyes locked on hers.
“So am I.”
After a moment, she moves closer to him, leaning her head against his chest. He stiffens at the contact, unsure of what to do. Finally, he intertwines his fingers with hers, his free arm resting on her shoulder. Ethel places her other hand on top of their intertwined hands, nestling herself further against him. She sighs lightly, her thumb drawing across his. She smiles against his chest.
“Ruthie will kill us if she sees us like this.”
Ephraim smiles, his chin resting against her head.
“I guess we’ll just have to make sure that she doesn’t.”
