How Denhaven’s Magic Taught Me the Meaning of Family

I can’t tell you how frustrating it has been trying to get this post out to you. I am grateful for the overworld link that I have, but when it doesn’t work, my blood pressure starts to rise. I get snippy. It turns out that my exasperation isn’t really about tech at all, but I didn’t realize that at the time.

Brandon was absent for almost a week after we arrived at the new location. He mumbled something about needing to check a few things and disappeared. When he didn’t return the next day, I found Kelly in the kitchen and asked when we could expect him.

“Brandon comes and goes,” Kelly said with a shrug, tossing a peeled carrot into a bowl and eyeing me. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”

But I did worry. After the strange visitors at the apartment and our flight through the snow, how could I not? Kelly was good company, and a wealth of information, as long as you wanted to know about portals or cuniculus cuisine. Thanks to Kelly, I have never eaten so well. Left to my own devices, I am a functional chef, at best. What Kelly is not is tech support. I couldn’t even get my machine connected to the Denhaven network. It wanted a password I didn’t have and kept shutting down when I couldn’t provide it. Kelly was no help.

“Maybe it’s written down somewhere in Brandon’s office,” Kelly said, looking up from a pile of dough. “It’s just down the hall on the right.”

I started in the direction Kelly indicated.

“Not the first right,” Kelly’s voice followed me. “The second and a half right.”

I wandered for half the afternoon, opening doors, swearing at broom closets. At one point I sat down in front of a window with an expansive view of a brick wall and cried. I finally decided to give up the hunt for Brandon’s study and retrace my steps to the kitchen. Maybe putting something in my empty stomach would improve my mood.

Of course, once I gave up finding it, Brandon’s study was the next door I tried.

My irritation evaporated into the ether of curiosity as I stared at all the papers, books, and files littering every available surface. So much knowledge and so little organization. Where would I even start to look for something like a network password? I picked up a sheath of papers on the desk and shuffled through it.

“That’s early history,” Brandon said from behind me, startling the folder I was holding out of my hands. It fell to the floor and joined the host of papers scattered around my feet.

“Brandon,” I gasped, holding my hand to my chest, as if I could physically contain my galloping heart. “You’re home.”

“I’m here, anyway,” Brandon said, a wry smile on his lips. “Kelly said you were looking for the network password?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to collect myself. “I’ve been having trouble connecting to anything. Something might be wrong with my machine, or with me, I don’t know.”

I heaved a hitching sigh and blinked back the hot prick of tears, stooping to retrieve the papers I’d dropped.

“It’s been…” I hesitated, suddenly on the edge of tears again. I admonished myself to pull it together. A network connection was nothing to cry over. What was wrong with me?

“It’s been very frustrating,” I finally managed, wiping my face with my sleeve and sweeping together the papers.

“I see,” Brandon said, looking at me kindly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were in such a state.”

“I’m not in a state,” I replied quickly, wiping my eyes with my other sleeve and sliding the sheath of papers onto the disheveled desktop. “I just…”

There was a moment where I thought I could hold my rupturing emotional dam, but the cracks were too large. Brandon put a soft paw on my shoulder and my shell broke. I burst into tears. I couldn’t tell you exactly why or what I was crying about, but it was the kind of emotional storm that didn’t negotiate, it just raged. Brandon sat next to me and patted my back until my sobs dissolved into hitching squalls and I had myself mostly under control again. He handed me an embroidered handkerchief and squeezed my shoulder. I mopped my face and took a couple of deep breaths.

“Would you like to see the presentation I’m working on for the Order inquiry?” Brandon asked, handing me a flask from his jacket.

I smelled it carefully, but it was just water.

“I would,” I said, sniffling and taking a long drink. “I’d like that very much.”

Brandon smiled and pulled a remote out of his pocket. At the touch of a button, a thin screen purred out of the ceiling and hitched to a stop. He clicked another button and a chart covered in scrawled handwriting with pictures of birds and portals flashed onto the screen. Brandon patted my shoulder, nodded, and walked over to the screen.

“Oracles,” he said, straightening his vest and looking at me with his brows raised.

I nodded and smiled; my head fuzzy with the residue of my recent emotional downpour. He seemed satisfied and turned back to the presentation.

“Oracles have been around as long as recorded history. They are, as far as we know, born Oracles rather than developing from regular avian stock.” He tapped the screen and nodded. “Each has distinct abilities outside of their propensity to predict future events. Their origins are nebulous, but we believe them to be one of the few native species of Elurium.”

I moved closer to the screen, trying to make sense of the characters and notes scribbled around the drawings.

“This will all get cleaned up, of course,” Brandon said, gesturing to the slide. “Before I present it to the big brass.”

“Can you tell me what the Order is, Brandon?” I asked, interested in the council he was going to see as much as the Oracle he was reporting on. “Is it your government?”

“It is the Protective Order of Denhaven,” Brandon said, turning away from his presentation and tapping a book on the desk. “I suppose you would consider them our government, yes.”

“Things are different down here?” I guessed. “There isn’t a government like up above?”

“Oh, no,” Brandon laughed. “Our government is functional.”

I was about to ask him to explain, but Kelly’s head popped in the door and announced that dinner was ready.

“A proper dinner,” Kelly said, smiling. “I think our guest could use a real family sit down.”

Brandon looked like he was about to argue but my stomach growled audibly, and he softened, nodding and flipping off the screen.

“I do want to know more about Oracles,” I said, standing up and making a weak gesture intended to indicate that dinner could wait.

“Of course, you do,” Brandon said. “But Kelly is right. You’ve been under a lot of strain and a nice sit-down dinner will do you a world of good.”

I nodded, reluctant to follow him out of the room lest the spell be broken. This was, after all, the information I came here for.

“There will be time for this later.” Brandon nodded and gestured to the door. “And after dinner, a nice bath, I think.”

It had been forever since I’d properly bathed. The apartment had a small shower for tidying up, but it was so small that I couldn’t fit my whole self into it. A bath would be heavenly. Just as the word floated into my mind, food smells seeped down the hall and filled my nose. Baked bread and boiled onions, the smell of roasting vegetables with something sweet wafting around the edges. Heavenly.

Kelly had prepared a feast. Warm loaves of crusty bread, soup, fresh vegetables with homemade dips, roasted veggies on platters, and a colorful salad garnished with nuts and seeds. And for dessert, spiced apple pie with whipped cream. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes again as Brandon led me to the table and sat me down. Kelly smiled, removed a flour dusted apron, and hung it carefully on a hook by the stove. I reached for a loaf of bread, but Brandon held up a finger.

“Before we begin, if you don’t mind,” he offered his hand across the table to me, and Kelly did the same.

We all joined hands, the warmth of our companionship surging through our little circle. After a moment, Kelly spoke.

“We share this meal as friends. May the food nourish us and strengthen our bonds. And may we find peace in each other’s presence.”

He nodded, and Brandon followed. I squeezed each of their hands before letting go, their energy warming my insides as much as the food ever could. We tore into the feast, and it wasn’t long before we were laughing and talking, my tears a distant memory. I looked at Brandon, talking to Kelly and laughing over a shared memory, and warmth bloomed in my chest. I had been missing this, whatever this was. Companionship. A hole of loneliness had been tunneling into my heart and I hadn’t even noticed it.

After dinner, I was shooed away to the upstairs-upstairs bathroom. Kelly followed me and drew up the loveliest bath I’ve ever seen. The bubble bath Kelly poured liberally into the steaming water must have had a touch of magic. The bubbles floated in the air like balloons, watchful sentinels suspended over the tub, glittering in the muted afternoon light. Kelly laid out a fluffy towel, some little bottles with stoppers, and a bar of soap before nodding and turning to go.

“Kelly?” I touched the tip of my finger to a large bubble and watched it waver in the air in front of me, then turned to Kelly, hovering in the doorway. “Thank you.”

It was all I could manage but didn’t seem to adequately express the surge of gratitude I felt.

“You’re welcome,” Kelly said, turning to catch my eye as the door closed. “My friend.”

The door softly latched and warm tears slid down my cheeks. They were soft and friendly this time, grateful tears. I slipped out of my clothes and into the blissfully warm water, watching as the bubbles seemed to lift the residue of my distress up and away. I’d been away for so long. I never thought about how hard it is not to fit in somewhere, to be alone and unconnected.

Losing my computer network connection wasn’t a big deal, it just reminded me of how thin my connection to my world had become. I was dangling, in danger of falling into my own void. But I was never really alone. I just hadn’t recognized the new network forming around me. Family is the connections you create to keep the void away. And this little family had found me and lifted me out of my despair. I don’t know how I got so lucky.

-JPS