#evan bach

[carewyncromwell]

"Little one, when you play, Don't you mind what they say -- Let those eyes sparkle and shine, Never a tear, baby of mine...

If they knew sweet little you, They'd end up loving you too... All those same people who scold you, What they'd give just for the right to hold you..."

~"Baby Mine (cover)" by Alison Krauss

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original links for posters (1) and (2) on the wall // edited with help from Lunapic!

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Hey, all! This is my entry for #ockiss24, organized by @ockissweek, depicting my OC, Lane Bach Cromwell, kissing her eight-year-old son Jacob goodnight! For those of you wondering where my girl Carewyn is, well, she IS in the picture, even if you can't see her...because this is set in 1972, the year Carewyn was born! (Lane's in her second trimester.)

But yeah, prior to Carewyn's birth, Jacob's life was...not great. From not getting on with his clean-cut, conventional Muggle father Evan to being completely alone and outcasted at school because of his "delinquent" outbursts (in truth evidence of very powerful underage magic), Jacob was a very unhappy child. Partly to vent his frustrations and resentments, Jacob would act out and disrespect or even flat-out ignore his teachers, which this year in particular almost resulted in him not being allowed to go on to year 4 of primary school. It was only his distinctly average grades at the time that kept that from happening, because no, boy genius Jacob was not having trouble with any of the material: he was just bored as all get-out and hated jumping through hoops for people who looked down their noses at him. Even so, the conference that Evan and Lane had with Jacob's principal -- in which the principal ripped into Evan for his and Lane's lack of discipline and even suggested at one point that Jacob could do with a year or two of military school to straighten him out -- resulted in Evan summoning Jacob down to the dining table for a "family meeting" that night that ended up way more heated than it should've.

Evan was very stern. He told Jacob that he and Lane did not want to have to send him to military school when he was more than smart enough to know better and respect his elders -- Jacob snapped back that his teachers didn't want respect from him: they just wanted him to sit down and shut up and be a mindless little bobble-head, just like all the other kids in class, so that they could keep acting like they were smarter than the toadies they taught. For someone like Evan -- whose father had been arrested and sentenced to life in prison when Evan was a very young boy -- Jacob's lack of respect toward authority figures was very troubling. Evan scolded Jacob that he would never amount to anything worthwhile if he didn't put in the work and behave himself, and even shamed Jacob, pointing out that he and Lane had more than enough to worry about with a new baby on the way without having to punish Jacob for things he knew he shouldn't do. Jacob lashed out in response.

"Oh yeah, right, 'the baby!' The baby, the baby, the baby! Can't forget about how many more hours at work you suddenly have to put in 'because of the baby!' As if that hasn't just been a lovely little excuse for you to not be around to deal with all the stupid stuff I get blamed for -- if you'd actually been around, then maybe you would've bloody realized that I'm already getting punished, all the time, for doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG!"

From there, Evan and Jacob's tempers only flared further. Lane -- ever a pacifist and yet completely unequipped to deal with such explosive anger, thanks to her abusive childhood -- was unable to step between them or bring the temperature down...and so the fight only ended when Evan, his temper thoroughly spent, lost his head. Jacob yelled at Evan for never seeing him as anything but a troublemaker, and Evan responded in perhaps the worst possible way.

"BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE, JACOB! Every other day, I have to read a message from your teachers, or your principal -- even other parents about the trouble you get up to, and time and again, you refuse to take any responsibility for the trouble you cause! How is anyone ever going to see you as anything other than a shame and a burden, when all you ever do is cause everyone else trouble?!"

Jacob was so overwhelmed with pain and anger he couldn't properly express that he shoved his chair aside with enough force that the bottom of the legs actually somehow caught fire. Lane hurriedly rushed to put out the magical flames before Evan could pay them too much mind, but Jacob -- too emotional to even acknowledge that outburst of magic -- ran out of the dining room and upstairs to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut with force.

Evan was regretful about what he'd said, after the fact. He didn't quite know how to broach the issue, since he still felt Jacob had done wrong and needed to own up to it before he gave their son a proper apology -- so Lane went upstairs to speak to Jacob herself, after calming Evan down and making sure she'd given Jacob enough time to cool off too. When Lane opened the door to Jacob's room, she found her poor son burying his face into his pillow, trying in vain to obscure the many messy tear tracks down his cheeks.

"Did I cause you trouble again, Mum?" was all he could mumble miserably through his pillow.

Her heart hurting, Lane brought a stool over so she could sit next to Jacob's bed. She sat near him for a while, letting Jacob vent and reassuring him multiple times that Evan was just upset: that she and he didn't just see Jacob as a burden or a troublemaker, that they loved him, and all they wanted was for him to be the amazing, talented, smart boy they knew he was. Lane wasn't sure how much Jacob believed this -- he had trouble meeting her eye, even as he changed into his pajamas and she tucked him into bed. It didn't take long for Lane to suss out why, after Jacob echoed Evan's words from earlier.

"I wasn't trying to cause trouble, Mum. Honest. I know you're not feeling well...I know you have to worry about the baby now, not me..."

It was hard to miss the miserable, faintly resentful tone to her son's words. Lane's eyes softened sadly.

"Jay...of course I'll have to worry about the baby...and yes, I might need to spend a lot of time with them, since they won't be able to clean, feed, or dress themselves yet. But just because I'll have to take care of your little brother or sister when they arrive does not mean I'll stop taking care of you. It doesn't mean I won't still be here for you, when you really need me..."

She brought a hand through Jacob's curly black-brown hair.

"Time might have limits, but love doesn't. I remember my friend Judy liked to say that love is renewable -- it's not a cake that has to get cut up into smaller pieces for more people to enjoy it. The more you love, the more love there is to go around. No matter how much I will love your baby brother or sister when they get here, it doesn't mean I will love you any less. You will always be my little Blue Jay. And I will always love you with all my heart."

Jacob wasn't even fully aware of it when he started crying again, but as his mother kissed him goodnight, he felt the tension relaxing in his shoulders. He laid back against his pillows, closing his eyes.

"...Mum?" he asked hesitantly after a moment.

"Yes, Jay?"

"Do you think the baby will like me?" he mumbled.

The doubt and uncertainty echoing through the question broke Lane's heart.

"They will love you," she said gently.

"Even if I'm nothing but a troublemaker?"

Lane frowned deeply. It truly did seem that those words of Evan's had hurt him far too deeply for Lane's reassurance alone to heal.

"You are not, have never been, and will never be 'nothing,' Jacob. ...I promise, one day, you will see what I see, when I look at you -- a smart, curious, creative, special boy...ready to take flight and take on the world. And when that day comes, I know the whole world will see it too."

Jacob's face seemed to soften a little bit, losing some of the creases in his features.

"...Thanks, Mum."

Lane's blue eyes softened as she turned off the wall light and gently closed the door to her son's room.

A few months later, Lane gave birth to Jacob's little sister, Carewyn. And true to Lane's words, the little baby she nicknamed "Winnie" loved Jacob dearly, and ended up being his first real friend in the world.

[carewyncromwell]

"The past and the present and the future -- Faith and hope and charity -- The heart and the brain and the body give you three as a magic number."

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HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // Read about Lane's escape from the Country of Spades! // meet the "Three of Hearts," Sarahi Silvers! @dat-silvers-girl

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The life of Lane Cromwell has always seemingly been made up of threes. She'd been her parents' third child, as well as the youngest of three sisters. She'd studied gold and silversmithing under her father for three years. She fell in love with her husband after three days. Her tiny, close-knit family was comprised of herself, her son Jacob, and her daughter Carewyn. It took her three times to score her dream job in Spades, working as a museum curator and historian. Even her life, it seemed, could be split up into three stages --

Past. Present. Future.

Daughter. Wife. Mother.

Diamond Empire. Country of Spades. Land of Clubs.

Three of Diamonds

The three of diamonds is the card of professionalism and career. It means that you should stay focused on your work and business. Do not let some shiny object distract you. The three of diamonds suggests that you will be well-appreciated and rewarded for your current work. It can also represent a sudden surprise.

In the Diamond Empire, Lane's life was dictated by her role as the third daughter of the Cromwell Clan Jewelers. She was the brain of her siblings, and she'd been trained to solely focus on that role she had to play, polishing gems to perfection that her father could sell and quietly obeying his will in how to live her life. But then, out of the blue one day, a opportunity for a better life appeared, in the form of a young man from the Country of Spades named Evan Bach, who showed Lane her first real glimpse of sincere, selfless love. And in the end, Lane chose that opportunity for a better, loving life with Evan over career, wealth, and her abusive family. She and Evan eloped and ran off to the Country of Spades to start a family far away from Charles Cromwell -- which, quite frankly, is the best reward all of Lane's hard work could've ever received.

Three of Spades

The three of spades is an unwelcome card, to say the least. It represents a change of plans, one that usually results in emotional pain and a broken heart. In a mild case, this card can announce a cancelled date or misunderstandings between two lovers, but at its worst, it can be an omen for a break-up or divorce.

Sadly, as much as Evan and Lane had loved each other and as grateful as Lane was for Evan helping her escape her toxic family, their relationship did not last. After years of marital strife, Evan left his family, leaving Lane to raise their two children Jacob and Carewyn on her own. Fortunately this change of plans was one Lane was able to adapt to -- she got a job and set about rebuilding her life with her "bairns." Her son Jacob scored a job with the "Counselor of Spades," himself, Duncan Ashe, and her daughter Carewyn earned a scholarship to attend school in the Kingdom of Hearts. Soon both Lane and Jacob would leave Spades to join her there...

Just as it seemed like everything was on track, however, Lane was hit with another terrible change of plans. Lane's work visa to Hearts was rescinded, and not long later Jacob sent his mother an urgent letter telling her to leave Spades without him, before Rakepick could capture her. Hating the thought of leaving her son behind but knowing her getting caught would make it that much harder for Jacob to escape himself and potentially put Carewyn at risk, Lane was forced to flee on foot, southward into the Land of Clubs.

Three of Clubs

To draw the three of clubs means you've been dealt a good hand. It's a sign that your judgment is sound and that your efforts will be reap success. The three of clubs has such a positive influence that it's a trump that counteracts all the negative cards next to it. It's an omen that you will gain fortune and fame. In some readings, it can even mean hope.

Fortunately, once Lane escaped into Clubs, she found sanctuary under the King of Clubs, Orion Amari. The King and his court were also responsible for Lane reuniting with her daughter Carewyn, who had since been crowned the new Queen of Hearts. And after the War was over, Lane and Carewyn were also miraculously reunited with Jacob, who'd been through his own fair share of tribulations and become infamous across Cinderhaven as "the Escape Artist."

After the Civil War in Spades was over, Lane decided not to move to Hearts with Carewyn or return to her old job and flat in Spades. Instead Lane lived the rest of her life quietly and peacefully in the Land of Clubs as a royal historian. Clubs' rolling fields, untamed woods, ancient libraries, and clean air were medicinal to Lane's spirit, and her resettlement allowed Lane to take some well-deserved time chasing her own happiness, instead of just keeping her family afloat financially. And as part of that happiness, her cottage in the woods beside Clubs' museum and university was always open for visits from those few precious people she loved more than anyone else in the world.

For the first time in her life, the third daughter of Charles Cromwell had found herself in a place where she could be fully herself and that truly embodied the feeling of the word "home."

[carewyncromwell]

consider it a what if scenario in this instance, but how would jacob and carewyn's dad react to hearing how one graduated with honors from the very school that once expelled him, and the other going on to become a well respected lawyer? lets say that it was by pure chance he heard of other people talking about the two and put two and two together.

not that hed go out of his way to reach out to them but moreso his realization how the two managed to achieve the respectable lives he so desperately wanted them to, but without him in the picture. how would that make him feel?

Okay, this message gave me such joy that I had to set it aside to give it a full response, because AWWW, ANON, YOU THINKING OF POOR, BAD-FATHER-BUT-NOT-A-BAD-MAN EVAN BACH!! You sweet thing!! 🥹 💙💙💙

So I actually do have a few headcanons about Evan after he left his wife and children behind, one of which ties in nicely to your question.

A few days after his departure, Evan was visited by an Obliviator from the Ministry of Magic. That Obliviator's name was Donna.

In most cases of Muggles learning that their child and/or spouse has magic, that Muggle doesn't leave or divorce their spouse, so there was some concern that Evan could blab about the entire Wizarding World's existence, if he were allowed to keep his memories of his family. This is why Donna was sent to tail Evan and, when the time was right, covertly modify his memory. But to Donna's surprise, while she tailed Evan Bach, she was surprised to discover that he made no attempt whatsoever to expose Lane, their children, or the existence of magic. Evan didn't even flinch when his friends or family would try to get the truth of his and Lane's separation out of him -- he would just firmly and unwaveringly say that Lane lied to him and then shut down the conversation altogether before it could go any further. He never even tried to make up lies about Lane, like that she was involved in criminal activity or something, so as to better justify his actions. He would shoot down anyone proposing nasty, untrue things about his ex-wife and seemed to resignedly accept it if anyone judged him badly for leaving his family. And this was why, after a whole week of not having to intervene, Donna finally just decided to visit Evan in person and explain the situation to him.

"Look, Mr. Bach -- your situation is...unusual, in our world. It just is. Most Muggle parents who find out their child has magic, well...they choose their child. They choose to stay married for their sake -- to keep their family together. Even I must admit, I can't understand why you wouldn't make that choice..." "Well, of course not. You're magic too, aren't you? Like Lane, and Jacob. Of course you wouldn't understand. ...I didn't ask to join this 'World' of yours. I never even had a proper choice in the matter. And even if you think I should've just followed my wife and children blindly, I have no interest in being part of a World made up of nothing but lies and deception. And I frankly think it's disgusting that you think it's best to just rewrite people's minds and lives if they don't march lockstep with...with your blatant despotism." "Despotism? Come now, that's a bit harsh..." "Sorry if I don't see a government who would arrange for you to stalk me and then corner me in some dark alley just to keep their precious secrets safe in a particularly flattering light." "It's not just for the sake of our secrets, Mr. Bach. ...Yes, it is true, I was sent to Obliviate you. But your situation isn't just surprising because of your departure -- it's also how you've acted after leaving. You never once made as if to expose Lane or your children's magic. You've never even tried to defend yourself from rumors by making Lane look bad." "Why would I? Lane lied to me. ...Anyone who knows me knows that's enough reason." "I think a lot of people would want to create additional reasons. Make themselves look better, by doing so. You're an honorable man, Evan Bach. That's why you've never fought back to defend yourself, when people get upset about what you did. That's why you couldn't talk about your children, when your cousin pressed you about them. And that's why...I'm here talking to you, not sneaking around anymore behind your back. ...You see...I want to ask you, myself. Do you want me to modify your memory?" "...Want it?" "Yes. I could remove the painful memories of what happened -- give you a more peaceful life, to remember. I could even rewrite the memories of the people around you, so they won't ask about your family anymore...maybe even give you that promotion you would've gotten, if it weren't for your boss catching wind of what happened with your family. You could start fresh -- " "Never." "What?" "Never. I don't want your fancy stick anywhere near my mind, nor my memories." "But you...you've already said you have no intention of being part of your family's World. If you want nothing to do with the Wizarding World, and you don't want to have to keep lying by omission...wouldn't it be so much easier to just forget our World even exists?" "Of course it would! Naturally it'd be easier. But I don't want this to be easy. ...I left my wife and children, Madam. I may have my reasons for what I did, but that doesn't change the fact that I failed. I failed them as a husband, as a father...as the man of the house, and as a man overall. And worst of all...I left without even saying goodbye. I couldn't even look my wife in the face. ...I couldn't even apologize to my son...knowing he never would've accepted it anyway. Knowing that he'll hate me for the rest of his life, same as I resented my own father. ...I am a coward, Madam. It's something I never wished to be, but I proved it before God, with what I did. ...But even though I couldn't rescue my family from themselves -- from this crazy, asinine 'World' that your lot has roped them into...I do not want to be rescued from this burden. Least of all by one of your kind. ...One of the last things Lane said to me is that all I did in our marriage was make more and more mistakes, just trying to escape from my previous ones. Well, I'm done running. These mistakes I've made -- all of them -- are my burden to bear...and I don't want you or any other...freak Ministry agent taking them away from me. ...I don't want peace. Especially not your version of it."

Despite Evan's clear dislike of magic users, Donna couldn't help but by moved by his sentiment. And so she left Evan with all of his memories and reported back to her superiors that Evan Bach was no threat to Ministry security. Amazingly, after watching the Muggle store manager for another month, Donna's superiors eventually agreed, and Evan Bach was left to his own devices.

Evan had no further contact with the Wizarding World for the next thirteen years. It was only in 1988 when Donna sought Evan out at his office, in disguise as a manager of another store. He was not pleased to see her.

"I thought I made it quite clear I want nothing more to do with your World. What are you doing here?" "Nothing business-related this time, Mr. Bach. I'm just here to thank you." "...Thank me? For what?" "Your daughter." "...My...?" "Yes. Carewyn Cromwell. That was Lane's maiden name, wasn't it?" "...It was. But I don't..." "I have a daughter too...Chiara's her name. She's the same age as Carewyn. She has...a condition that makes it very difficult for her to make friends. But earlier this year, your daughter reached out to her, and since then, Chiara hasn't been able to stop talking about how wonderful your daughter is. In letters, at home...all she's been able to talk about is how kind and selfless and brave and amazing Carewyn is. So I came to thank you, Mr. Bach...for being the reason my daughter has such a good friend."

Evan was so speechless that for a moment, all he could do was stand up, cross to the window, and look out. Donna Lobosca tilted her head a bit, watching him carefully. Then, feeling some pity, she offered --

"...Chiara sent me a picture with the two of them together. Would you like to -- ?" "No. ...Winnie is one of your kind. Lane raised her to be just like her. Like Jacob. Anything she is...I can take no credit for." "I wouldn't say that. You're Carewyn's father, aren't you? That means half of her genes, and half of everything she is, comes from you."

This sentiment didn't comfort Evan, though. He refused to turn around and face Donna again.

"...Please leave."

Despite the detachment of his posture, his expression reflected in the glass of his window betrayed genuine remorse and pain. It made Donna not press him further, and instead return to him some privacy. It was clear to her at least that Evan was hesitant to engage with Carewyn, even from afar. He'd left her at such a young age that she likely didn't even remember him, so she undoubtedly was shaped more by Lane and Jacob than by him. She would never be a "normal" Muggle the way Evan wanted -- how could she be, if she was the type to befriend a werewolf? And perhaps Evan might've felt that he didn't deserve any praise, not even indirectly, for any good his daughter had done.

Donna had to wonder if Evan Bach had shed any tears, upon passing up the opportunity to see how his daughter had grown. Perhaps he would've, if he'd taken stock of how much Carewyn's ears and thin lips resembled his.

Evan didn't learn anything more of his children until the spring of 1991, when Donna actually used the Muggle Post to send Evan a letter. Evan didn't want to open it and actually fancied for a short time chucking it right into the fire -- but reluctantly he held back the urge and, settling down in his old armchair, he opened it. Inside he found a short note, with a smaller envelope inside.

Mr. Bach, I know the last time we met, you didn't want to see Carewyn's picture -- but enclosed are some photographs of your son and daughter from their and my daughter Chiara's graduation ceremony. Jacob truly is remarkable -- he received a certificate of merit for earning all O's on his NEWTs: a very, very rare achievement, only achieved by the most intelligent and talented of wizards. As for Carewyn, she graduated as Head Girl for her class and, according to Chiara, is set to become a lawyer for our Ministry -- a very respectable career in both your World and ours, I should think. I shall say it again, Mr. Bach -- whether you believe it or not, half of what these children are came from you. You should be very proud. Donna

Evan read the note several more times in silence. Then, putting it and the other smaller envelope away in the drawer of his side table, he left them there as he went to the kitchen to make himself some supper. He wouldn't open his drawer again until the following week, when looking for a pair of scissors, and when he did, he shut it quickly, unable to look at the note or second envelope.

Jacob, earning honors in all his classes. Honors. Jacob had never been good in school -- he'd always been a slacker: a delinquent, who constantly got himself into trouble. How was Evan supposed to feel, knowing that his son was succeeding, but only in that World of delinquents and liars, rather than in normal, proper society, the way Evan had always dreamed? He'd always known Jacob was smart -- he definitely could've become a doctor someday, or perhaps worked in a well-respected lab somewhere, if he'd really applied himself...

And Carewyn...Head Girl, and now set to become a lawyer? How respectable would that have been, if she was actually going to be a real lawyer -- one Evan could've recommended to his friends and associates, if they needed legal advice? Instead, all the legal advice she'd be giving out would be perfectly worthless -- her whole career would instead be based entirely on laws like the one that tried to demand Evan either give up and stay with Lane out of duress or have his mind turned inside out...

It took Evan nearly half a year before he finally forced himself to take that second smaller envelope out of his side table drawer and open it. He was alarmed by how the pictures moved -- poor Evan had never seen any magical photographs before, and they were incredibly unnerving. The girl who had to be Carewyn kept looking away, off into the corner of the frame. She appeared rather respectable, despite how bizarre her and everyone else's attire was -- her makeup was very neat. And the boy next to her...no...that couldn't be Jacob, could it? He couldn't possibly be so young...Evan himself was in his fifties, so Jacob would have to be nearing thirty by now --

And yet...even with how messy and ridiculous his hair looked, or how youthful his face appeared...Evan immediately knew at once that this was indeed his son. His eyes were hollowed-out like a skull's now, and his dark curls had grown so long and out-of-control that he'd had to tie them back in a ribbon the way a girl would...but it was Jacob. And clinging onto his sister and mother, Jacob's moving photographic self couldn't seem to stop silently laughing through his tears.

He was happy. So happy he was crying...

Evan had to put the pictures of his children face down on his side table, out of his line of sight. He then rested his arms in his lap, holding his face in his hands and then sliding them down along his cheeks as he breathed deeply.

He knew seeing Jacob and Carewyn would be painful. He knew it would be -- that's why he'd resisted it for so long. He'd rebuilt his life to the best of his ability, even while wrestling with his guilt, but he'd kept them at arm's length because he knew that Jacob and Carewyn didn't want to be in his world, and he wanted nothing to do with theirs. They didn't belong in his world, no more than he belonged in theirs. And truly, there was no point in trying to dig up the past when that wasn't going to change.

It didn't mean it didn't hurt, knowing that he'd failed as a father so much that Jacob and Carewyn's lives were fuller, with him not in it.

After a long moment, Evan reached out toward the side table again. He fiddled with the edge of the last photograph for a few seconds before finally flipping it around and looking at it.

Lane looked tired. Her face had become a bit gaunter and there were more wrinkles around her eyes, though not as bad as Jacob and Carewyn's -- Evan couldn't help but think that their eyes looked like his now, with how deep the bags under them were...

Even so...Lane smiled just as brightly as she did on their wedding day.

And it was this, strangely, that seemed to soften the creases in Evan's brow, even as tears welled up in his eyes.

Evan had failed his family in so many ways. He hadn't been able to guide them and mentor them -- to protect them and give them everything they wished for. To keep them on the straight and narrow, the way he always tried to be. But even with this...Lane had found happiness. She clearly hadn't had to go back to her cruel family -- she clearly had kept her freedom and was able to thrive, even on her own. Even while having their children to look after...

And this, strangely, brought Evan some bizarre, bittersweet kind of comfort. Perhaps, in the end...letting his family find happiness without him ultimately was the one thing he'd managed to do right.

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"If I could see the future and how this plays out, I bet it's better than where we are now, But after going through this, It's easier to see the reason why…"

~“No Surprise,” by Chris Daughtry

[carewyncromwell]

“I had my books to read --  Didn't know that I would ever need Other ponies to make my life complete... But there was one colt that I cared for -- I knew he would be there for me! My Big Brother Best Friend Forever! Like two peas in a pod, we did everything together! He taught me how to fly a kite... (Best friend forever!) We never had a single fight... (We did everything together!)

~“B.B.B.F.F. (Big Brother Best Friend Forever)” from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

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Christmas was always a very special time for Carewyn Cromwell. For as far back as she could remember, it was the time of year when she could sing lots of beautiful music and spend quality time with her two favorite people in the world -- her mother, Lane, and her big brother, Jacob. Even before she took the name “Carewyn Cromwell” -- in that time when her Muggle father Evan Bach was still in the picture and so she, Jacob, and Lane had all had his last name -- the holiday season had always been special. Understandably Carewyn doesn’t remember her time as “Carewyn Bach” that well, given how very young she was, but there were two images she held onto tightly from that time in their old house in Westminster, both of which were from her third Christmas. The first was of a tall man with his face in shadow tentatively patting the top of her head -- the second was of sitting on her stomach on the floor, squashed under the fully lit Christmas tree. If one were to ask Jacob about these fragmented memories of his sister’s, he would have the appropriate context needed to understand them.

The Bachs’ house in Westminster was a decently-sized, two-story detached home -- a rare and special thing so close to the city. It was made all of red brick, with multiple large white-painted windows and a white-painted front door with a brass door knocker. Its modest front yard was mainly covered over with brick, but hosted several white rose bushes that Evan paid to be pruned and trimmed bimonthly, to keep everything well-coiffed and respectable. The largest of the house’s windows was a bay window over the kitchen table with a ledge that Lane always put a vase of flowers in and that the family’s old Siamese cat Ella used to sunbathe on. And during the holiday season, the kitchen table was moved so that Lane could put the decorated and lit Christmas tree right beside the bay window, so that any visitors to the Bach home could see the lights twinkling out through the glass.

This Christmas -- the 25th of December 1974 -- was set to be Jacob’s tenth Christmas and Carewyn’s third. Carewyn had turned two that September, while Jacob was just two months shy of his eleventh birthday. Carewyn had grown a lot in that last year -- Lane was charmed by how quickly she’d picked up talking, even after how slow she’d been to start walking, and Jacob only egged this on by talking to Carewyn almost constantly, whenever they were together. More than a few times that December he asked his sister about what she wanted Father Christmas to bring her, though Carewyn didn’t seem to know how to answer.

“I dunno,” she’d say, as her eyes migrated up toward the ceiling.

“Oh, come on,” Jacob encouraged her. “You’ve got to want something. And with how good a girl you’ve been all year, I’m sure Father Christmas’ll give it to you, if you ask him.”

Carewyn didn’t answer, instead too preoccupied with tugging at the loose thread on the corner of her skirt. Immediately picking up on her restlessness, Jacob neatly ripped off the thread off his sister’s skirt with no effort.

“Do you want a new dress?” asked Jacob. “A new teddy bear? Or how about an Easy-Bake Oven? Then you can bake your own cakes and sweets, all by yourself!”

“I dun want a Noven,” Carewyn mumbled.

“Why not?” asked Jacob. “Don’t you want to be able to make your own treats whenever you want?”

Carewyn shook her head stubbornly. “I dun want a Noven because...you didn’t get one.”

Jacob blinked in surprise. Carewyn kept her eyes down on the skirt of her dress, flapping it up and down absently.

“Mum said...Mum said to Dad that you asked...Fafa Christmas for a Noven for Christmas. And a chem -- chem -- chem’stree sit.”

“A chemistry set,” Jacob corrected with a broadening smile.

“Mm-hmm. But Mum said...you didn’t get the Noven you wanted. Even if you really wanted one.”

Jacob’s face softened in understanding. His almond-shaped blue eyes sparkled fondly down at his little sister.

“Aw, Pip...you’re right. I didn’t get the Easy-Bake Oven I asked for. But it’s okay -- it was a while ago that I asked for it...”

Three Christmases ago, in fact -- the year Carewyn was born. It made Jacob wonder why Lane had even brought it up to Evan again after so long...was Evan rambling on about Jacob not having interests like “normal” boys his age again or something?

“...And well, I still got my chemistry set, and that was fun.”

Carewyn looked unconvinced. “But...weren’t you sad?”

“That I didn’t get my Easy-Bake? Sure, a little bit,” Jacob reassured her. “But well, I’m not as good of a kid as you are -- it’s probably appropriate that I didn’t get everything I wanted for Christmas...”

If Mum had managed to convince Pops to let me have a ‘girly thing’ like an Easy-Bake Oven, it would’ve been a minor miracle, Jacob thought sourly.

Carewyn's cute little face twisted into a deep frown.

“You are good, Jacob!” she said, sounding incredibly upset.

She immediately threw her arms around her brother’s waist and squeezed. Jacob, who’d predicted the move before Carewyn made it, caught her in both arms, and his face softened further as he hugged her back just as tightly.

“Hm, well...at least you think so, Pip.”

With this, he scooped her up and started heading for the kitchen.

“Come on -- why don’t I help you write your letter? You tell me what you want to say to Father Christmas, and I’ll write it down.”

“Kay.”

~*~

Jacob did end up proofreading and clarifying Carewyn’s sentences quite a bit, when writing her letter. When he read it aloud for Carewyn, though, she was beaming from ear to ear and nodding, clearly approving of his “translation.”

Dear Father Christmas,

My big brother Jacob is writing this letter to you for me. I wanted to tell you to get him everything on his list, please, and to get Dad a new record that I can listen to. Elvis is fun! Also, Mum needs some new rainboots. Please make them yellow, so they match mine. I also want to go to school with Jacob, but Jacob says you can only give me things you can wrap up with paper and ribbons. So please just give me something pretty, wrapped up in pretty paper with a pretty blue ribbon. Blue’s my favorite color.

Don’t eat too many biscuits, or you’ll get a tummy ache.

Love from

Carewyn

~*~

When the morning of Christmas arrived, there was a large haul of neatly-wrapped presents under the tree. Every single present was wrapped in the same kind of music-note-printed white paper, with identically-tied red or green bows. Several years later that particular type of packaging would be the main thing that would clue Carewyn onto the fact that they were all wrapped by her mother Lane, rather than Father Christmas. For now, though, Carewyn didn’t think anything of it, instead taking innocent joy out of her parents neatly undoing the paper on their gifts while her brother overdramatically ripped open the paper on his, grinning mischievously at her the entire time as she tried to bite back her giggles.

“Jacob, dun do that!” little Carewyn would scold Jacob, lightly punching his back and shoulder through her giggles. Her ineffectual scolding would only make her brother laugh louder, which in turn only made Carewyn happier and more giggly than ever. The noise, however, grated on Evan, who rubbed his temple irritably.

“Jacob,” their father said reprovingly, “that is quite enough.”

Jacob shot Evan a rather sour glare -- Lane immediately intervened by leaning over her lap so that she could lightly pat her son’s shoulder from his place on the floor.

“Settle down just a bit, you two,” she said more gently. Clearly she had been a bit overwhelmed by the noise too, but had held back seeing just how happy her kids were. “Jay...I believe that one on the side is the last of your gifts. Why don’t you open it, so we can move on to Winnie’s?”

Putting down the Once and Future King anthology he’d unwrapped with the other books he’d gotten, Jacob shifted over to look under the tree. He found that last gift (which was wrapped in a red ribbon) and, once he’d reached around Ella the cat, brought the package into his lap. It was a moderately-sized gift, about the size of the books he’d already gotten from Father Christmas. It also had a tag written in Lane’s neat penmanship that read, “To Jacob, from Mum and Dad.”

With a quick, beady look at Evan, Jacob very pointedly ripped the paper right off the top so that he could see what was inside.

When he looked at its contents, though, his eyes lit up like fireworks.

“...A portable cassette player and recorder!” he cried in delight. “Mum -- you actually got it -- ?!”

“Your father paid for it,” Lane said pointedly with a wry smile. “I just picked it up at the store.”

She glanced at her husband meaningfully, who cleared his throat.

“...Yes, well...you have been behaving a bit better as of late, Jacob,” Evan mumbled. “Helping your mother around the house...looking after your sister...”

“And you clearly wanted it so much,” Lane said fondly.

Jacob’s face had burst into an amazingly bright smile, worthy of the sun. Unable to stop himself, he jumped to his feet and ran over to throw his arms around his mother in the biggest hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he said, beaming from ear to ear. “It’s just what I wanted!”

Once he’d released Lane, Jacob seized the box from the floor and sat back down on the rug as he started babbling excitedly to Carewyn.

“Look here, Pip -- this is a recorder! Now I can record songs from the radio and we can play them on cassette tape whenever we want! And I can record other things too! I can record things in class and play them back for you, or I can record us singing -- I can even just leave you messages you can play here while I’m at school!”

Carewyn’s eyes lit up, just listening to Jacob. It was like his enthusiasm just bled into her like colors running through a watercolor painting, and she was soon beaming just as broadly as her brother. Evan sat off to the side of the couch, watching his son eagerly share his gift with Carewyn with a strange, almost sad smile prickling at his features.

Noticing her husband’s expression, Lane brought a hand onto his knee, giving it a supportive squeeze before turning back to her children.

“All right, Jay,” she said with a smile. “I think it’s high time Winnie started opening her presents.”

Jacob’s huge grin seemed to gleam brighter at this. “Right!"

Once again reaching around Ella the cat, he picked up one of the remaining packages under the tree, all of them wrapped in blue ribbon, and handing it to his little sister.

“Don’t forget to read the note for her, Jay,” Lane reminded him.

Jacob peeked at it over her shoulder. “‘To Carewyn, from Father Christmas.’” He smiled encouragingly at her. “Go on, then, Pip.”

Carewyn got mostly clothes that year. Both “Father Christmas” and most of Evan’s family members sent along new dresses, though Evan’s cousin Mary had sent along a set of cute little toys called Weebles, which Ella the cat ended up playing with just as much as Carewyn did.

“Don’t forget to thank Cousin Mary when she visits, Winnie,” Lane reminded her.

“Yes, Mum,” Carewyn said promptly, even while only half paying attention.

Along with the dresses, Father Christmas also got Carewyn a new baby blue romper, perfect for playing outside. Carewyn’s last gift, though, earned a strange frown from Jacob when he read the tag.

“‘To Carewyn, from Dad.’”

Carewyn didn’t notice the confused look Jacob shot their father as she took the gift into both hands and very neatly undid the bow. Once the bow was off, she ripped off the corner so she could tear off the rest of the paper.

Inside was a rather pretty blue book with a beautifully painted illustration of an angelic-looking woman floating over a princess sitting in an open coach led by horses -- “The Classic Fairy Tales.”

“Oh, Winnie,” said Lane in breathy happiness, “it’s a book! Your very first book, Winnie.”

She shot a significant smile at Jacob. Feeling confused, Jacob glanced back at Evan -- Evan’s body language was evasive as he got up from the couch to put his spent coffee cup in the sink.

“Well, yes, I...thought it was about time that we built up a proper library for the baby,” he said stiffly. “Books suitable for a girl her age...”

“They’re magic stories, Winnie,” Lane said to her, her voice soft in both volume and emotion as Carewyn flipped through the pages of the book, consulting the pictures. “They’re stories your father and I can read to you at night, before you go to sleep.”

Jacob was still kind of bewildered watching his parents through this whole thing. There was something under the surface in how Lane and Evan spoke about the book that Jacob just didn’t quite get -- it didn’t feel like Lane had picked out the book and Evan had paid for it, the way they had with Jacob’s recorder, and yet Lane didn’t seem at all surprised by the gift (understandable, since she’d wrapped it) and seemed to really want Carewyn to be excited about it. Was it just because Lane liked reading as much as Jacob did and wanted Carewyn to like it too? If so, why didn’t she take some credit for the gift? For whatever reason she’d wanted Carewyn to see this gift as being just from her dad, not both of them.

That schmuck barely pays Pip any mind, in the first place, Jacob thought irritably. It was one of the things that made him most resent his father, that he ignored Carewyn so much of the time. Even now, he’s not even looking at her...

This thought made something click in Jacob’s head.

Is that why Mum wants him to get sole credit? Because she wants Pip to think Pops does care?

Jacob’s lips twitched with a smile despite himself.

Aw, Mum...you hate how he ignores her just as much as I do, don’t you?

Noticing Carewyn glancing up at him, Jacob grinned all the more brightly.

“That’s Hansel and Gretel, Pip,” he said, pointing at the picture she’d stopped on. “That’s a great story -- it’s about a brother and a sister, just like us! And that’s Cinderella,” he added, pointing to the picture on the cover. “She’s going to this really big party. See her dress? It’s pretty, right?”

Carewyn’s eyes seemed to sparkle seeing how happy Jacob was. She beamed from ear to ear, nodding eagerly. Then, with a quick look up at Evan as he returned to the sitting room, she put down the open book on the floor. She shuffled up onto her feet and toddled over to her father. Before he could sit down, she then threw her arms around his leg and hugged it, just the way Jacob had thrown his arms around Lane earlier.

“Just I wanted!” she chirped.

Evan looked completely taken aback. He stared down at Carewyn, his dark eyes wide and his expression almost insecure in how he took in his tiny daughter’s beaming face. Then, very tentatively, he reached out a hand and patted the top of her head, attempting a weak smile of his own.

“...I’m...glad you like it,” he said lowly.

Even despite his discomfort, his dark eyes did betray something oddly touched as he shifted his gaze over to Lane, who was smiling warmly. His weak smile even became that bit stronger, seeing his wife’s expression.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, “we’d...best get ready for the day. It’s nearly 11 already...”

~*~

After all four Bachs had gotten washed and dressed, Lane set about getting the Christmas turkey cooked in the kitchen, while Evan went out to pick up the chocolate Yule Log he’d ordered at the local cake shop for dessert. Originally Lane had suggested Jacob and Carewyn go with their father for the drive, but Carewyn was so preoccupied with her new Weebles (or, more importantly, watching Ella the cat bat at them with her paw) that Evan decided it was better to “leave the baby” at home. As soon as Carewyn was going to be left out of the little “outing,” though, Jacob immediately decided he’d stay at home too, and he promptly picked up one of his new books (A Wrinkle in Time), slouched across the armchair with his legs dangling off the arm, and started to read. Carewyn was a little put-out when Evan left the house, but she was distracted soon enough when the kitchen timer went off and she immediately toddled over to “help” her mother with setting the table. (This involved Carewyn taking the cups Lane handed to her in both hands and delivering them one at a time over to the table, as well as pulling all the chairs around the table out enough that everyone could sit down comfortably.)

After their late lunch of turkey, roast potatoes, cranberry sauce, pigs-in-blankets, and stuffing, the Bachs watched the Queen’s Christmas Broadcast -- a tradition Evan insisted on, though Jacob always found it incredibly uninteresting. He took several opportunities during the broadcast to make faces at Carewyn to try to make her laugh, which irritated Evan. The rest of the day involved enjoying the chocolate Yule Log and singing along to the family’s Christmas records. Jacob sang It’s the Most Wonderful Time of Year so flawlessly that Evan actually praised him -- something Jacob didn’t quite know how to accept, considering how little Evan did it. Jacob ultimately chose to forget the whole thing when Evan left the room altogether in response to Carewyn happily screaming out her best attempt at Sleigh Ride, claiming a headache. This left Jacob, Carewyn, and Lane alone for about an hour, during which Lane quieted Carewyn down by shifting the records over to the works of the Kings College Choir. Evan returned in time to hear Lane quietly singing along to The Holly and the Ivy, and he came up behind her to kiss her on the cheek.

“Pretty pretty, Mum,” Carewyn said, beaming as she gave a light tug to her mother’s pant leg.

Lane laughed softly as she scooped Carewyn up into her lap and gave her a big hug. “Thank you, sweetie.”

The night ended with two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows, one cup of coffee with milk and sugar, and one cup of English Breakfast Tea with lemon in front of the fireplace. Ella the cat curled up for a nap on the now-completely-empty skirt under the Christmas tree in the kitchen while Jacob and Carewyn played with his new recorder and Evan put the batteries in the new pocket calculator that Father Christmas had gotten him. These moments were captured in pictures taken with Lane’s own gift from Father Christmas: a snazzy new Polaroid camera.

At seven o’clock, Lane took Carewyn upstairs so she could get ready for bed. She tried to encourage Evan to come up with her, even going so far as to place Carewyn’s blue book of fairy tales on the side table near the stairs pointedly, but Evan soon became too preoccupied with setting up the new coffee maker in the kitchen and never ended up making it up there.

Looking noticeably disheartened as she came back downstairs, Lane didn’t even look at the book on the table again as she settled herself back down in the armchair -- and so Jacob once again found himself glaring openly in his father’s direction as he got up from his spot on the floor.

“I’m going to bed too,” he said very shortly.

He scooped up all of the books he’d gotten, as well as his recorder, and carried them upstairs. He pointedly didn’t look at Evan, even when he purposefully knocked right into him on his way up the stairs.

“Jacob!” Evan called after him, taken aback and disapproving.

But Jacob didn’t care. Even with how sweet and innocent his Pippa was, all that old plonker ever did was ignore her -- he didn’t deserve a “sorry.”

~*~

Because Jacob went up to bed so early, he hadn’t gone to the bathroom beforehand. That was why he ended up having to get up in the middle of the night. Once he’d left the hall bathroom and started back toward bed, though, he noticed the door to his sister’s room had been left ajar.

Pip?

Feeling a pang of concern, Jacob darted over. Upon peeking into her room and turning on the light, he didn’t find her. He looked around, taking note of the empty hallway and the other closed doors on the floor, and then as sneakily as he could, he darted across the hall and down the stairs. He didn’t find her in any of the chairs in the sitting room or on the floor either.

“Pip?” Jacob called out only as loud as he dared. “Pippa?”

There was a rustling from somewhere in the kitchen. Jacob came around the door frame and entered the kitchen, and immediately relaxed.

There was Carewyn in her lacy flower-printed nightgown, nestled underneath the Christmas tree. She was lying on her stomach, with her legs stretched out behind her and her arms folded under her, and Ella the cat was stretched out on the tree skirt next to her. The Siamese cat surveyed Jacob with a mild expression as he approached.

“There you are!” said Jacob. “What are you doing under there?”

Carewyn shrugged, her eyes falling down to her hands clutching the tree skirt. Jacob crouched down to better look her in the eye.

“You’re not hiding, are you?” he said with an amiable grin.

Carewyn shook her head.

“Well, good,” said Jacob. “You know you don’t have to hide from me...”

His expression grew a bit more concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Carewyn nodded. It seemed like the truth to Jacob -- she didn’t seem the least bit distressed. Instead she almost seemed expectant: like she was patiently waiting for something.

Jacob cocked an eyebrow at the Christmas tree and then back down at his sister, his face slowly unfurling in a bigger grin.

“...Aw, Pippa...you’re not waiting for Father Christmas, are you?” he asked.

Carewyn looked up at him with a rather bashful expression. It made Jacob laugh despite himself.

“Aw...he’s not coming again tonight, Pip. It’s Christmas! Father Christmas only comes on the night before Christmas.”

Carewyn’s face noticeably dropped, hearing this. “...Fafa Christmas isn’t coming back?”

“He will,” said Jacob. “Just not tonight. He only ever comes once a year.”

Carewyn’s gaze fell down to the floor as she rested her head on her hands. Her eyes even started to water a bit.

“Aw, Pip, it’s okay,” Jacob reassured her immediately. “He’ll be back next year. And when he does, you’re such a good girl that you’re bound to get even nicer presents...”

But Carewyn shook her head.

“I dun want any more,” she mumbled.

Jacob blinked. “You don’t?”

Carewyn shook her head again. “Mm-mm...I got I wanted.”

She shifted a bit. When she did, Jacob finally took in what she’d been holding against her chest. It was the book of fairy tales Evan had gifted her -- she slid it over to him so he could pick it up.

“I got a pretty...with...with a pretty paper an’ a pretty bow,” Carewyn explained. “I wanted to say...I got I wanted.”

Jacob felt like his heart was being enveloped in a huge warm hug as he heard this. All he’d been able to wrangle out of her, when writing her Christmas letter, was that she’d wanted something pretty, wrapped up in pretty paper with a blue bow. Even though, yes, their mother Lane had wrapped up all of her gifts with blue bows, Carewyn had clearly found the book to be the prettiest of her gifts -- maybe, Jacob suddenly considered, because Lane and Jacob had reacted so happily about it. Because unlike the Weebles or the clothes she’d gotten, it was something that Carewyn could share with them, the same way Jacob had shared his recorder with her.

“I wanted to say I got I wanted.” She wanted to tell Father Christmas how much she liked her gifts.

Fondness for his baby sister washed over Jacob like a wave of warm water, making his blue eyes shine with pride and affection.

Pip, you really are a saint.

“...Well, then...”

With some difficulty, Jacob sidled underneath the Christmas tree so that he too was lying down on the floor on his stomach next to Carewyn.

“...Since you got just what you wanted...how about I read you a proper bedtime story? Since old Pops didn’t get around to it.”

Carewyn smiled and nodded. With a broadening grin, Jacob flipped open the book until he’d found the story he was looking for.

“Here we go...‘Hansel and Gretel.’”

“They’re like us,” Carewyn recalled brightly, pointing at the picture of the two siblings.

“Right, they’re brother and sister, just like us,” Jacob said, grinning as he affectionately bumped his shoulder beside Carewyn’s. He then proceeded to read,

“‘Once upon a time, near a great forest, there lived a poor woodcutter, his wife, and their two children. The boy's name was Hansel and the girl's Gretel...’”

As Jacob told the story, he took every opportunity he could to make Carewyn laugh, putting on his best imitation of his snippy English teacher when reading for the woodcutter’s wife and a cackling, “old-lady” voice for the witch. It entertained both Carewyn and Jacob greatly. Carewyn liked the first story so much that Jacob went on to read two more -- Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella -- after which Carewyn started to nod off. Her head drooped down onto her brother’s shoulder, and Jacob smiled fondly down at her before, taking care to avoid Ella the cat, he slid both himself and his little sister out from under the tree and scooped her up so he could carry her upstairs to bed. The old Siamese cat proceeded to follow Jacob and Carewyn upstairs, only breaking off once Jacob had put Carewyn to bed and closed the door. The feline then lost interest and sidled her way back downstairs, presumably to “reclaim” her spot on the tree skirt. Jacob himself then went off to bed, a full smile attached to his face.

Evan ultimately left almost no impact on Carewyn’s life. Fortunately she never had any gaping holes left behind in his absence -- for she had a devoted big brother there to ensure she never once felt like she wasn’t special or her feelings didn’t matter.

[carewyncromwell]

"I don't really need this in my life... Why don't we forget about it? (Go and take your soul...) (Go and take your soul...)

Thing is -- (Thing is -- ) Time was -- (Time was --) Part of me used to love you: Part of me still does... This light here -- Some become strangers..."

~"Some Become Strangers" by Stevie Nicks

x~x~x~x

Carewyn's dress inspiration // the other main song I listened to while drawing this

x~x~x~x

So I thoroughly blame @dat-silvers-girl for this...but while talking with her about my recent Evan Bach post, I mentioned that since Evan and the remainder of his family is in Westminster, just south of London, and Carewyn ends up settling in London to work for the Ministry of Magic, there would be a very good chance that the two could cross paths, even unknowingly.

When Evan was taking the Tube to work one day as usual, though, he did cross paths with Carewyn -- and on his end, at least, it was very knowingly. What first caught his attention was the teenage boy in his train car talking to someone on his other side.

"Ms. Cromwell? You okay?"

It was the name "Cromwell" that caught Evan's attention. He'd heard it more than once before, of course -- it was a relatively common surname -- but it still made him start every time, since it was Lane's maiden name. And according to that frankly kind of meddlesome witch Donna, Evan knew that his children had gone back to using that surname too, rather than his. When he looked up this time, though, he was confronted with the sight of the teenage boy standing on the train talking to a well-dressed young woman with ginger-red hair, sitting down a short ways away and holding her forehead in her hand.

"Mm...yes," she said lowly, after a moment. She forced a small ruby red smile as she looked up at him. "I just haven't...been in such tight proximity with so many people, in a while. It's...louder, than I remember it."

Evan blanched when he took note of the woman's eyes -- a bit sunken-in, but almond-shaped, and bright blue. However shadowed, they were Lane's.

Evan very quickly turned away, his heart racing. God, why -- why here, why her? Why his daughter? Why here, on his daily commute, right now...?

Was Lane here too? Jacob? God, the thought of seeing either of them almost made Evan feel more nauseous. Seeing Lane after so many years was a prospect that daunted Evan, but seeing his son was almost more terrifying. Jacob had always had a temper, and he'd so strangely latched onto his sister even as a baby that Evan thought it'd be likely he'd have to physically defend himself, if Jacob caught sight of him...that is, if Lane wasn't there to diffuse things. Lane had always been the one to try to calm things down...

Despite himself, Evan scanned the train car, searching for his ex-wife. When he didn't see her or Jacob, he felt the faintest flicker of disappointment, and then a wave of overwhelming relief. Not only did he hate the thought of his estranged family causing a scene...but he didn't think how much more strain his heart could've taken, seeing Lane again after so long...

"Do you not take the Tube much?" asked the teenage boy from behind Evan.

"Well, no. As you know, there are many other ways to get around. But well, considering where we're going, I figured those methods wouldn't be as ideal."

"You can Apparate with other people too, right?" said the boy mischievously. "That sounds fun."

"Mind what you say in public, Erik," said Carewyn, before adding something a bit quieter under her breath. Evan just barely picked out the word "Muggle."

Evan's lips came together tightly. So this boy was like Carewyn and Jacob, then? He was part of that...freak world of theirs too? To think that such a promising young boy would be molded in their image rather than live a normal life, same as Jacob was...

A thought occurred to Evan that made him straighten up sharply. Was this boy -- ?!

When Evan looked at the boy called Erik, though, he found he didn't resemble Carewyn much at all. Plus he looked to be 13 or 14, at least...Carewyn couldn't be his mother: she would've had to have been a mere child herself when he was born, if she had been. And Erik had called her "Ms. Cromwell" -- he couldn't be related to her by blood. If he was her son, he'd have called her "Mother," and if he was her sibling through another marriage (this thought made Evan's stomach squirm), he would've just called her by her name. And yet the way Carewyn spoke to him...it wasn't just platonic, there was something almost maternal there...

Was this boy her stepson, perhaps? Evan wondered. Had Winnie married an older man -- someone already married? She was a young adult now, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she'd be married...she was probably the same age Evan was, when he married Lane. But to marry someone who had a son this old already... Evan couldn't help but frown disapprovingly, imagining his daughter marrying a man a good twenty years her senior.

"Anyway...thanks for this, Ms. Cromwell," said Erik. "Coming with me to the cinema and all."

"Well, I could hardly just drop you off and leave you there," Carewyn said with a wry smile.

"I told you you could."

"You can tell me whatever you want: it doesn't mean I'll agree with it. And besides...this clearly means a lot to you. I want to be there with you for it."

The way Carewyn spoke to Erik startled Evan yet again. It certainly didn't sound like how he expected a mother to speak to her son -- Lane certainly had never sounded so casual with Jacob, and she was always much more coddling of him than Evan himself was. It was almost sibling-esque, the way they interacted -- and yet Carewyn's sentiment still came across as so...maternal, for lack of a better word. So fond and proud...

Evan turned around, just in time to see Erik's snarky expression seemed to visibly soften.

"...Thanks, Ms. Cromwell."

The boy with the curly blond hair then seemed to sober slightly.

"...Ms. Cromwell...I wanted to say I'm sorry. For what I said the other day."

Carewyn blinked, startled.

"To that biddy in Diagon Alley," Erik prompted. "You know, the one who called you my mum."

Carewyn seemed to immediately understand, and her face grew much more gentle. "Erik..."

"I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it," Erik muttered, his eyes awkwardly drifting over to his and Carewyn's reflections in the window. "I mean, yeah, she was stupid to think it, when you're not even that much older than me and we don't look a thing alike -- but well, you do kind of act like my -- like a mum sometimes -- and you were with me while I was getting my school supplies, so it was only logical for her to think it. And well...I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful...you know, for everything..."

"Erik," Carewyn cut him off very firmly. She brought a hand up and took hold of his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "That is the last thing I would think."

She paused. Despite himself, Evan couldn't help but listen that bit more intently, even while trying to not draw attention to himself.

"...After what happened to your mother...I understand you being upset about what that woman said," Carewyn said softly. "Of course I don't think it was right for you to have sworn at her...but I know your anger came out of trauma and pain, not anything vindictive or cruel. And the last thing I'd ever want to do is replace your mother...or your father. I know I never could, even if I wanted to."

Her eyes fell on her own hand on Erik's shoulder rather than staying locked on his.

"...I don't want to be your mother, Erik. I'm very happy just being your guardian, for however long you need me. That's all I sought from the court, and that's all I want to be."

"Guardian." Then Carewyn had adopted this boy, as his legal guardian? Evan tried to envision raising Jacob on his own in his mid-twenties without Lane, and the mental image was intimidating. Being raised by his great-uncle more than his own parents, Evan would've been utterly clueless in being a single parent -- even Lane he always assumed did a better job of it than he ever would have...

Erik's face had lost nearly all of its edge by this point -- if anything, his expression betrayed something much warmer.

"You really are smashing, Ms. Cromwell," he said. "I hope you know that."

His smile then grew a bit more devilish again.

"...So...since you're not mad about what I said...does this mean you'll give me some more of those special lessons you promised me?"

Carewyn gave a loud huff. "Those 'special lessons' are supposed to be to help you defend yourself -- they're not a reward to be taken away when I'm unhappy with you. But I could very well withhold some of the rather nice Christmas presents I've set aside, if you don't learn to clean up your language."

Erik gave a loud, cackling laugh that prompted Carewyn to smile a bit more wryly herself as she got up.

"Well, come on, then -- here's our stop."

Her sparkly starred heels clapped against the floor as she crossed to the closest door. Evan watched his daughter go, wrapping her arm around her ward as the two climbed off the train and into the crowd of the underground station. Then, silently shifting his gaze out the opposite window, Evan watched the wall fly past him as the train picked up steam and sped off toward the next stop.

Because Carewyn had been focused so tightly on Erik and his mind, so as to quiet the thoughts of all the other people on the train she could've picked up, she'd had no idea that she'd been sitting mere feet away from her father. Even if she had chosen to look anywhere besides Erik, it's likely she still wouldn't have noticed him -- for she had no memory of the man's face and would therefore have likely only seen him as a stranger. Which, sadly enough, he practically was, even while they still lived together...

Carewyn was a stranger to him. Evan knew it, and he'd known it, even when she was small. He'd never "gotten" her, largely because part of him had been afraid to -- failing so badly to connect with Jacob had been so painful that the thought of messing up again, and worse, with Carewyn had made him withdraw from her, hesitant to let her in. But there had been moments, here and there, where he'd deeply regretted not knowing her. Times when she -- strangely enough -- almost seemed more like him than Jacob had been. More respectful of the rules -- more interested in pleasing others. And yet Evan knew he truly hadn't known Carewyn. How could he, when it was so blatantly obvious to Lane that she had magic, same as Jacob? And now it was all the more obvious that Carewyn was nothing like Evan. The way she talked to her adopted son -- her "ward"...it was nothing like how Evan had ever talked to Jacob, let alone her. She sounded gentle, affectionate, playful...

She sounded...happy. Raising Erik in her strange World, on her own...Carewyn was happy.

"Are you okay, mister?"

Evan looked up, startled, to see a little girl with cornrows and a sunhat sitting across from him with her mother, who had looked up from her purse with muted concern. It was only when Evan looked up at the two that he saw himself reflected in the window behind him -- and the tear that had leaked out the side of his right eye down his face.

He quickly swept it off his face with one hand.

"Ahem -- yes, I'm...fine."

Feeling embarrassed, Evan turned his focus back out the window, away from the girl and her mother.

Carewyn was happy. It was a thought that was a wave of grief that drowned Evan's soul, and yet...that wave felt strangely comforting, all the same. He stayed floating in that feeling for the rest of his commute, until he finally reached his destination, at which point he walked to work.

Once he reached his office, Evan closed the door and put on an Elvis record as he got to work. It was something he often did, to help pass the time when the day was slow and his depression made it hard for him to soldier through -- and, unbeknownst to Evan, was also what Carewyn herself did, whenever she had trouble focusing on what she was doing.

"Today I stumbled from my bed With thunder crashing in my head, My pillow still wet from last night's tears... And as I think of giving up, A voice inside my coffee cup Kept crying out, ringing in my ears...

'Don't cry, Daddy... Daddy, please, don't cry... Daddy, you've still got me and little Tommy, And together we'll find a brand new mommy... Daddy, Daddy, please laugh again -- Daddy, ride us on your back again -- Oh, Daddy...please, don't cry...'"

[carewyncromwell]

*snorts with laughter* Yeah, no, I’m going to ignore that “father” bit — not just because the end of year 6 on is not canon for Carewyn, but because she would have no interest in Peregrine whatsoever, even if he was her biological father. (Jacob raised her more than her dad ever did.)

I personally headcanon Slughorn had a big soft spot for Jacob Cromwell at school and tried multiple times to get him to join his Slug Club…but it was still nice, hearing Slughorn gush about his talents a bit. 😊

[carewyncromwell]

“Is it rude to say I’d volunteer  For a day of fun just once a year? I’d fly the coop, if only I could... But I've got a really bad case of being good! I’d go find trouble if there was some to get in: Ask a friend to play if I had one to let in... Nana’s rocker sawing through the floor -- Every day just like the one before --  We lock ourselves behind that door... Is it wrong to wish for something more?

~“Good Girl Winnie Foster” from Tuck Everlasting (musical)

x~x~x~x

Carewyn’s gingham dress based on this design // original photo used for the background, edited with Lunapic! 💚

x~x~x~x

If asked about her childhood, Carewyn Cromwell would always say that even if her family was poor and she had to wear a lot of second-hand dresses when she was growing up, she, her mother Lane, and her brother Jacob still were nonetheless able to manage all right. What Carewyn often did not talk about was at just how young of an age she was forced to start looking after herself -- something that many people would look at with quite a bit more dismay than Carewyn herself did, looking back at her own circumstances. 

Now to be clear, Lane Cromwell was a very loving and caring mother -- but with the abandonment of her husband Evan and the abrupt lack of financial income that came with it, Lane had to take on the role of both breadwinner and caregiver simultaneously. While Carewyn was a toddler, that forced Lane to do menial laundry and seamstressing work from home, as well borrow some money from her good friend Judy Castine to help make ends meet until Carewyn could start public school. Once Carewyn did start school, however, Lane still couldn’t afford childcare -- and so, after doing a lot of research and preparation, Lane made the difficult decision to teach her nearly-five-year-old daughter how to walk home from her new primary school. Understandably worried for Carewyn’s safety walking anywhere by herself, Lane used both magical and Muggle means to ensure she would know Carewyn’s location at all times, on her way coming home from school. Lane made contact with several trustworthy adults along Carewyn’s route, like the elderly owner of the local ice cream parlor, Mrs. Sackett, and introduced Carewyn to each of them, so that they could help Carewyn get home in case of an emergency or even call Lane if they didn’t see Carewyn walk by at a specific time. Lane also taught Carewyn about the Knight Bus, which she could always call by sticking her left hand out over the street, just in case anyone tried to hurt or grab her. Judy even gifted Lane a small Magical-Child-Monitor watch from Diagon Alley in preparation of Carewyn’s first year at school, which could always tell Lane whether Carewyn was at “school” or “home,” whether she was “traveling,” or even whether she was “lost” or “in distress.” (The last feature Judy customized to make the watch chirp loudly, just in case Lane didn’t notice it immediately. Lane kind of had wished she hadn’t, given how loud it was, but appreciated the sentiment.)

Most children about to turn five would’ve been petrified at the thought of walking anywhere by themselves. Carewyn, fortunately, had always been a rather brave and independent child -- and considering that she knew her mother needed to keep her job in order to provide for all of them, the little girl took the responsibility onto her tiny shoulders like a champ, walking home with her head held high every day with no sense of fear or resentment. She and Jacob were all their Mum had now, after all, and with Jacob away at school, Carewyn knew she had to do her best to help take care of Lane, just like Lane did her and Jacob. Jacob always made her promise to take care of their mother and flat before leaving for Hogwarts every year...and Carewyn would never break a promise to her brother. 

So every day, from the age of 4 all the way to 11, Carewyn Cromwell walked home from school every single day by herself, straight home to her mother’s and her flat, where she’d lock the door and stay safe inside until her mum came home. And to Lane’s relief, in that entire time, the single mother never heard her Magical-Child-Monitor watch chirp once -- for truly, Carewyn had always been a rather risk-adverse child. Her brother Jacob used to break into the kitchen cabinets and try to drink bleach as a baby, but Carewyn? Lane herself would often compare her daughter to a “little angel,” never starting trouble or getting into anything she shouldn’t. And because Carewyn knew Lane was working so hard trying to do well for her and Jacob, the last thing Carewyn wanted to do was make things more difficult for her mother -- so she stoically followed the same routine every day without complaint, going to school just for her classes and then heading straight home, all the while trying hard to not to let any accidental magic slip out that could make anyone side-eye Carewyn or her family any more than they already did. 

This didn’t mean that Carewyn didn’t ever quietly lament the arrangement, of course. What child wouldn’t? It was hard having to see other kids getting picked up by their parents in their cars when it was wet or snowing outside. It was hard to have to walk straight home when there was an exciting football match going on in the field near the local secondary school. It was hard to sit cooped-up inside when Carewyn could hear all the neighborhood kids riding their bikes on a sunny Friday afternoon. 

But hey, Carewyn told herself gloomily -- she didn’t even have a bike to ride on next to them anyway. And really, she thought more stubbornly, they’d probably just think she was a freak like everyone else did, which meant they’d only say nasty things that would make her upset and make her cast magic by accident anyway. And then she’d scare everyone, and the Ministry would have to come in and fix things...and her mother would worry. Carewyn couldn’t worry Lane...

And so Carewyn stayed inside dutifully, day after lonely day, soldiering through with no complaint. Because really, all of that silence was worth it, the moment Jacob would come home for a holiday break. As soon as he was home, Carewyn wouldn’t be alone, and with someone else around at home, it was safer to go outside without her mother. She and Jacob could walk to the park or the library -- to Mrs. Sackett’s ice cream parlor, or maybe even take a trip to the beach. Even being inside some of the time wasn’t so hard, when Carewyn didn’t always have to be by herself. And then once Lane was home too, they could all eat dinner together, the way Carewyn wished they could every night -- laughing and talking and sharing and bonding the way they all loved doing. And once Carewyn started at Hogwarts herself...well, then she’d be able to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted -- be the great witch she wanted to be, instead of the “freak” ginger that the Muggles in her neighborhood would never understand. She’d be able to play out every single wild daydream Jacob and Lane had sparked to life inside of her through all their stories about the magical school -- cast spells, brew potions, visit all the shops of Hogsmeade village...play Quidditch, sing for the Frog Choir...maybe even tame a real-life dragon! 

Carewyn held fast to this thought and never let go of it. Once she could go to Hogwarts and chase her dreams, Jacob and her mother rooting for her all the while...all those silent, cooped-up, lonely days of the past would be worth it. 

[carewyncromwell]

“And you see the things they never see -- All you wanted I could be... Now you know me, and I'm not afraid... And I wanna tell you who I am... Can you help me be a man? They can't break me as long as I know who I am!” ~“I’m Still Here” from Treasure Planet

x~x~x~x

Jacob Cromwell was eight and a half years old when his mother gave birth to his little sister, Carewyn. It was a funny name, Jacob had thought at the time: it kind of sounded like the name of some random extra in a King Arthur movie. Even Lane’s nickname for the tiny baby, “Winnie,” made Jacob think of a little pony -- the baby kind of sounded like one sometimes too, whenever she’d whine. 

Carewyn didn’t really cry that much, aside from when she was hungry or needed a diaper change. The fussing was far more common -- she’d often fuss when Lane put her down for a nap or when things got too quiet. She’d also do it whenever her and Jacob’s father Evan left for work every morning, even if she’d been sleeping in her crib upstairs on the other side of the house. Lane couldn’t pinpoint a particular reason for it at first besides just general restlessness, but within two months, Jacob figured it out. 

Jacob had been trying to read at the time, when Carewyn had woken up from one of her naps and started to fuss in the next room. Jacob had come over to look into her crib, and at the very moment Carewyn caught sight of him, her flushed, unhappy face twitched, and her hands started to clench and unclench at her sides. 

Up, Jacob seemed to sense. She wants up.

And so, remembering his mother’s directions about holding a baby to the letter, Jacob reached into the crib and scooped up his sister. The tiny girl blinked up at him, still whimpering slightly.

“What?” said Jacob, imitating her pitiable, high pitch as best as he could with a smile. “Whazzamatter, huh?”

The baby didn’t answer. Instead she merely blinked her big blue eyes up at Jacob. Her expression seemed gloomy and insecure...confused, almost.

Jacob smiled a bit. 

“...Oh, I get it -- you fell asleep downstairs, and now suddenly you’re upstairs,” he laughed a bit despite himself. “I know, I know, it’s very confusing. But it’s okay -- you just fell asleep, that’s all. So Mum put you up here to bed.”

Carewyn stared blankly up at Jacob. The curly-haired boy’s grin broadened at her rapt attention. 

“She’s just downstairs getting dinner ready,” he told her conversationally. “You can’t have any of it yet, since your teeth haven’t come in. But you should get them soon -- Mum says you’re a little late in growing them. But that’s okay -- she said I was too, when I was a baby...”

Jacob adjusted the tiny, but still moderately heavy baby in his arms. 

“Come on -- let’s go find Mum.”

And so he carried his little sister downstairs. Lane actually collided with Jacob carrying Carewyn on the stairs -- she’d heard Carewyn fussing earlier and put down what she was doing so she could come up and check on her, only to be taken by surprise by Jacob bringing her down to her.

“It’s all right, Mum,” Jacob reassured her. “Carewyn just wanted to know where you’d gone was all.”

That truly was what the fussing had been all about, as it turned out. Carewyn wanted to be “involved” in whatever was going on -- as long as she was in the same room as her brother, mother, or father at any given time, she was just about always satisfied. Even as she grew big enough to start crawling, she was often perfectly content plopping herself down on the rug in the living room while Lane was cleaning or outside Evan’s office while he was working. What Carewyn liked best, though, was whenever Jacob would visit her nursery and talk to her while she was in her crib. Jacob started doing that a lot after Carewyn had turned a year old. 

Although at Hogwarts, Jacob would become known as a magical prodigy, at that time, he was seen as a delinquent. The frequent “misbehaviors” that Jacob was unfairly blamed for -- which anyone in the Wizarding World would know were indicative of accidental underage magic -- prompted him to act out, pointedly ignoring his teachers and half-assing assignments out of pure boredom. One such assignment Jacob was given, though, was to memorize a poem for English class called Pippa Passes by Robert Browning. He would then have to recite it aloud for the teacher and his classmates the following week. Jacob probably would’ve just ignored the assignment all together, but his English teacher had called his parents to make sure he actually completed the assignment, and Evan Bach decided to take the opportunity to teach his son a lesson -- Jacob would have to recite his poem twenty times every day as soon as he got home before he was allowed to do anything else, even get a snack or change his clothes. 

Jacob was not happy. He already had found the entire assignment so utterly pointless -- reading some dinky little poem over and over again seemed like a complete waste of time, and it certainly wasn’t going to teach him anything important. Lane, seeing how resentfully Jacob felt about both the assignment and his father, encouraged him to practice reciting the poem he’d been assigned aloud to Carewyn.

“The poem is a song sung by a little girl who just wants to make the people around her happy,” Lane counseled Jacob. “Maybe if you share it with Winnie, you might make her happy too.”

Although Jacob still felt a little irritated about how meaningless the whole effort seemed, he still took the idea and rotated it in his head. Carewyn always liked it, whenever Jacob talked to her. It didn’t even have to be about much of anything at all, Jacob found -- she just seemed to like to watch him talk, even if she clearly didn’t understand a thing he was saying. Jacob figured Carewyn just liked the attention. 

Why wouldn’t she, though, Jacob thought gloomily, when all Pops does most of the time is pat her head and barely look her in the face?

And so Jacob headed upstairs to Carewyn’s nursery. He found his little sister sitting by herself, occupying herself with nibbling on the cloth ear of her Paddington bear. When he entered the room, Carewyn’s big blue eyes went right up to him, even though her mouth was still attached to her bear.

“Hey, little sis,” said Jacob with a slightly forced, sarcastic smile. “Had an exciting day here at home with Mum?”

Little Carewyn didn’t take the bear’s ear out of her mouth, but her eyes brightened at the sight of him. Jacob’s smile loosened a bit, becoming more amused.

“Of course you did,” he said teasingly. “You discovered the taste of synthetic teddy bear fur...”

He sighed.

“Reckon that’s more interesting than anything I did today,” he grumbled to himself under his breath. 

He dropped his school bag and came to sit cross-legged on the rug next to his baby sister. Carewyn smiled a bit more fully up at Jacob as she dropped her bear. She seemed to like it when he got down on her level: Jacob supposed it was easier to look up at him when he was closer. He grinned down at her. 

“Hey there, Carewyn,” Jacob said brightly. “Not so big now, am I?”

Carewyn’s little smile grew that little bit toothier, as if she was trying to mimic Jacob’s grin. The effect was made even cuter now that she had about a third of her teeth in, instead of just gums. Jacob’s grin spread even wider.

“Jacob!” Evan’s voice called from downstairs. “You’d better be reciting your poem up there, young man!”

The words were followed up by an audible shutting of a door downstairs -- no doubt Evan shutting the door of his office again. 

Jacob shot an irritable glare over his shoulder at the hallway outside Carewyn’s nursery. 

“Stupid old fart,” he swore under his breath.

“A-dah!”

Jacob looked down at his sister. Carewyn had grabbed her teddy bear’s arm in one of her tiny little hands and shook it in front of her, as if holding it out to him. 

Jacob cocked an eyebrow. “Want to give me your bear?”

When he extended a hand to take it, though, Carewyn quickly pulled her bear away, giggling. 

Jacob immediately caught on. “Oh, I see. You learned how to play ‘keep-away’ today.”

Carewyn giggled some more. Jacob grinned cheekily as he tried to reach out as if to take Carewyn’s bear, only for her to pull it back away from him again, giggling harder than ever.

“Oh!” Jacob said, pretending to be wounded. “No bear for me! It’s all Carewyn’s bear -- just Carewyn’s bear.” 

He reached out and grabbed his sister around the waist with both hands. Carewyn gave a shriek of laughter and dropped the bear as Jacob picked her up. 

“Now, then, Winnie,” Jacob said playfully as he reached into his schoolbag for his poem and lay it on the carpet beside him with one hand while bouncing his sister up and down on his knee, “better get my homework out of the way, eh? ‘The year’s at the spring -- the day’s at the morn -- ’”

The giggling toddler kicked her little feet whenever she came up off the ground.

“‘Morning’s at seven!’” Jacob crowed in a sing-song voice. “‘The hill-side’s dew-pearled! The lark’s on the wing; the snail’s on the thorn -- ”

He took a deep breath and let out a huge raspberry beside Carewyn’s cheek, making his sister give another loud, happy shriek. 

 “God’s in His heaven – all’s right with the world!’”

Carewyn’s giggling made Jacob laugh too. His mouth spread into a huge grin, seeing how brightly his little sister looked up at him. She liked it when Jacob talked -- he must’ve looked happy, when he talked, Jacob thought. 

Well, of course I am, thought Jacob, his heart warming slightly toward his little sister. You’ve always been good at listening. Even though you clearly don’t understand most anything I’m saying, you’re still listening so hard. You’re still trying so hard to understand. 

The thought of his father shut up in his office downstairs made a flicker of resentment trail through Jacob.

Dad’s an idiot, for not seeing that, he thought to himself. He’s such an idiot, not to see how brilliant you are.

Jacob looked down at Carewyn, who’d started picking at the primary school patch on his jumper. Smiling slightly, Jacob adjusted Carewyn in his lap and rocked her lightly, the way he’d seen his mother do before.

“One down,” he said leisurely. “Nineteen more to go.”

He took a deep breath and started again. 

“‘The year’s at the spring -- and day’s at the morn...’”

The rest of the week, Jacob recited his poem for Carewyn. He eventually performed it perfectly for the class, but still got a bit of revenge on the teacher in question by reciting it in the most sugary-sweet, sing-song voice imaginable. (It got a good laugh out of the class, actually.) And not long after that, Carewyn actually started to talk herself -- or, at least, make more of an active attempt to talk, which often resulted in her shrieking like a little banshee. The sounds irritated Evan, but both Jacob and Lane found it rather amusing.

“She’s just learning how to sing, Evan,” Lane would say fondly, whenever Evan griped about needing quiet. 

Jacob, for his part, encouraged Carewyn’s “singing” full throttle. Whenever he woke up for school, he’d often hear Carewyn scream happily from her nursery, whenever she caught sight of him passing the open doorway -- so Jacob, ever the affectionate brother, would go in to greet the toddler properly.

“Singing again, Carewyn?” he said brightly. 

Carewyn gave a happy squeal, her chubby little hands clutching at the bars of her crib as she beamed over the railing at him. Jacob strolled over to her, bringing his hands down to tickle her sides. Her shrieks of laughter made him grin brighter still.

“That’s it!” teased Jacob. “Sing even louder -- let’s scare Pops off before he even has time to eat breakfast!”

He scooped up his little sister. Once she was secure, she looked right at him, almost as if wanting to say something very important.

“Jah-babb-ellba-harrah-um-jabelleh,” she babbled.

Jacob cocked his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Carewyn’s focus had fallen down to her own fingers as she grabbed onto Jacob’s sweater.

“...Essshee.”

“I see,” said Jacob, as if he’d understood exactly what Carewyn had just said. Which obviously, no, he didn’t -- but he didn’t think Carewyn really had anything important to say. She just wanted to talk to her older brother and have him talk back -- and Jacob was more than happy to oblige. 

Adjusting his grip on his little sister, Jacob rocked Carewyn in leisurely, broad gestures as they strolled down the stairs, as if pretending that they were on some particularly rocky ship. 

“Whoa!” Jacob said playfully. “Hold on!”

Carewyn gave some more drawn-out, happy screams. Some of them trailed off and became quieter, like some kind of untrained decrescendo.

“Eeeeeyah! Eeeeeyoooowah...”

Lane came around the doorframe of the kitchen to beam up at her son carrying his little sister. 

“It’s a good thing I closed the windows,” she said with a soft laugh. “Otherwise the whole town might hear Winnie.”

Jacob laughed. “Why not? She’d be a regular Pippa Passes!”

“WHEEEEAPP!” Carewyn squealed rather abruptly.

“Gorgeous, Pippa!” Jacob said teasingly as he gave his baby sister an affectionate squeeze. “Like a wee little angel!”

That was how Jacob started calling Carewyn “Pippa.” The nickname eventually got shortened down further to just “Pip,” and Jacob would frequently give the excuse of it being short for “Pipsqueak” when asked about it, so as to avoid a long, drawn-out explanation. On those few occasions Jacob ever did decide to share the story, it was obvious to whomever heard it just how fondly Jacob looked back on the memory and how unconditional his love for his little sister truly was.