Mending Breaks, an emily of new moon series fanfic

Mending Breaks

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Emily of New Moon series

The dusty floorboards creaked mournfully under Ilse's bare feet as she paced back and forth in the kitchen. The kitchen sink drip, drip, dripped into the silence, as if had been doing for two weeks – Dr. Burnley was too busy to have it fixed – and a fly buzzed above the half-eaten apple pie Aunt Janie Milburn had brought over in her well-meaning but annoying Christian charity. Ilse didn't feel like cleaning up – didn't know how, frankly – but she couldn't think of anything else to do. Emily was sick – dangerously so, it appeared – and Ilse had been forbidden to see her. "Can't risk you catching it," Dad had growled, shooting a glance at her from under his thick bristly eyebrows. As if he cared, she thought bitterly. But no – if she were sick, Dr. Burnley, being the only doctor within convenient reach, would be forced to take care of her. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Ilse's eye fell on the blue-and-white china vase at the top of the cupboard. It was one of the few pretty things left in the kitchen and suddenly she could not endure it. It was so smooth and shiny, it made the rest of the place look even dirtier than it was. How tempting it would be...

Her hands reached out before she could stop herself. The vase tilted...slipped...

Smash!

Ilse squeaked with surprise, jumped back, then giggled at her own folly. Her heart was pounding wildly and her head spun with excitement; what a wicked thing to do. She'd gone and broken Aunt Ida Mitchell's wedding gift – into a million pieces! She surveyed the damage with an evil smirk. Oh, she would catch it this time.

When Dad came home, the first thing he'd see would be these little porcelain shards sparkling on the floor. He'd thunder out her name in his Burnley-est tones, ask her what the hell she had been thinking, fix her with those big golden eyes of his and demand to know how his daughter could be so destructive.

Ilse shook her head and reined in her imagination before it got out of control. It seemed Emily was rubbing off on her. Dr. Burnley wouldn't even notice the broken vase unless he happened to step on it; then he'd simply shrug and ignore it. She fetched the broom to sweep up the shards before she could step on one herself.

()

By the time Dr. Burnley did come back, the floor was safe. Only the dust was a bit stirred up in one corner, with swirls and whorls indicating where the broom had been. Ilse, huddled up on her bed and re-reading a poem of Emily's, heard his footsteps downstairs and listened hard. He was walking more quietly than usual; he must be tired. A moment of panic seized her. He was coming back from...New Moon.

She bounded off the bed and pelted downstairs at top speed, nearly tripping over the corner in the staircase. Even if it meant getting in his way, she had to know.

"Dad!" she exclaimed breathlessly, just as he was taking off his hat. "How's Emily? Is she better?"

At the sound of his daughter's voice, the doctor turned around to face her. He looked – different, somehow. He was not scowling, for once; instead his expression was dreamy, like a sleepwalker's, yet radiant with some deep inner joy. And his eyes...was it possible he had been crying? Her fearsome, indestructible Dad? Impossible.

"Emily is...out of danger," he said, in that quiet, gentle voice he had previously reserved for his patients. "Yes. And I have so much to tell you, my child...important things...but first things first."

And, before she could say a word, he lifted her right off her feet and spun her around, knocking the breath out of her in a big, bear-like hug. Fourteen years' worth of love were in that hug, and when he let her go, her head was spinning so much she could barely think, let alone talk.

Dad talked for both of them. "I'm so sorry," he said. "For all these years. I know I've been a lousy excuse for a father, but believe me, from now on everything will be different. My golden-haired girl! How you remind me of your mother – my darling Ace of Hearts!"

He told her the entire story – Beatrice's perceived betrayal, and Emily's vision, which had showed them all the truth: that his wife had died tragically, but been faithful and loving to the last.

They cried in each other's arms, father and daughter, with all the love and grief of fourteen lonely years. However, at the end of it, Ilse looked up impishly and said, "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"I just broke Aunt Ida's vase. On purpose."

Dad snorted with amusement and clapped her on the back. "Ha! You little cuss. Knew you took after me. I suppose we'll just have to get a new one then, and hope the old bat doesn't notice."

He gave her a conspiratorial wink, and they both laughed.