Marjorie
**FEBRUARY 27, 1929**

Somebody else was living in that big house, and it wasn't like he *Let* His imagination run wild, but Shady couldn't help but think of the worst. He'd come up with a dozen different endings for April Baker and her little ones, each worse than the last, by the time he wandered out to the schoolhouse. It was after hours, but what did he know about school, anyway? Kicked rocks around like a kid set outside to think on what he'd done, then rode out to the town proper.

It was funny: Shady thought he was a ghost, but damn if people didn't start asking, "Rooster?" And, "...S'that you?" Well, *Some* People. 

Customers. Drunks.

** **

** ** Shady was a little ornery about it. He shrugged them off, bristled. Tried to pick a fight or two, but no one was having it. Just as well. He was here on business, was all. He'd be good and gone again in a few days' time. Of course, the particular hospitality he'd been foolishly banking on didn't pan out, and now all there was to do was crawl into that new Ford and drop off to sleep in a field somewhere. He was none too eager. 

The sun began its slow death-plummet, searing firelight across wispy strips of clouds as it sank toward the mountains. Shady pressed his shoulders into the back of downtown's most famous oak and stood, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his fingers between them and his ribs. It was just cool enough he could see his breath, but he knew the temperature would drop quicker than the light.

'Course, folks who had somewhere to *Go* Were still out and about, and this was Main Street. The shops were still open, warm light in the windows, silhouettes coming and going. That homey reek of hickory smoke from all those chimneys. He started to go, then froze at the fork in the road. It was a mean looking squint, but Roosters were seldom self aware. It was just he could barely make out the details; could barely tell if it was her, or wishful thinking playing tricks with the day's last light.
John
She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Shady Rooster since all those months ago; she'd thought he'd skipped town to avoid the mess, which she didn't blame him for. But Briar Ridge was home, and she couldn't help but fear that Shady Rooster's lack of return didn't come from fear of beasts in the night, but rather, something else entirely. If he'd gotten himself into trouble out there, God knows she'd have no way of knowing. It wasn't like anybody would tell her of all people, and who was to say his family would ever get that news anyhow? 

The evening was falling upon them and she tugged her shawl around her tighter, vision focused ahead on her goal of getting home as swiftly as she could. The moons made her anxious and jumpy these days; she preferred to stay at home, with her family, where she knew everyone was safe and tucked away. It didn't help she was encumbered by the stomach that was growing heavier every month. Nearly five months along now, she found that even her trips to the market were a chore. 

The dim light didn't do well for tricks of the mind— God knows, April had seen enough in Briar Ridge to last her a lifetime. At first, so could only assume he was a figment of her imagination. She was exhausted, she was jumpy, her mind jumped to conclusions far more these days. When she realized, no, he was not... She could only assume he was a ghost. Whether a real one or one of her past, she hadn't figured out yet. 

Of course, as she drew closer down the road, she realized, *No*, he was very real and very tangible. 

Her breath caught in her throat a moment and she opened her mouth. "Shady," She said, and it was shock and relief all balled into one. "Shady Rooster, you almost gave me a heart attack!" She said, her feet moving much faster than before as she stood before him. "Where did you—? How did you—?" She stammered, those big blue eyes wide enough to be compared to dinner plates.
Marjorie
Well, just like fishin', seems if he wanted the right folks to come along he only needed to be quiet and wait.

He was done being quiet just as soon as his name left her mouth, though. He helped to close the distance, and halfway looked like he might go for a scandalous smack-in-the-middle-of-town embrace — 

— but on closer inspection, that wasn't a funny trick of fabric. That was her *Belly.*

"Missus Baker," He blurted out, sinking under her dinner-plate stare to crouch on his haunches, leveling himself with her stomach as if this were a perfectly appropriate way to behave. "Yer gonna give *Me* One. Who's this?" A grin was starting to pry at the corners of his mouth, but then his eyes flicked up at her face and the realization struck. "Y'all ain't Missus Baker," He realized, *Then* Realized his foot ought to have gone in his mouth far earlier. 

He stood and his hands hovered aimlessly like he didn't know where to put 'em. 

"I got gone a while," He told her, "Good'n lost. But I come back. Jest for a little while, mind. An' *You—* Y'all've been busy. In the good sense." She'd patched him up. He'd been so *Worried,* And that feeling was new to Shady Rooster. It was something he didn't dare say to the rest of his brood. They would have pecked him to the bone about it. 

His hands gestured open palmed at her belly, and he repeated with greater feeling, "Who's this?"
John
Now that just wouldn't do, would it? April was a hugger by nature; and so as soon as Shady was still enough to allow it, she hugged him so damn tight she might've squeezed the air out of him. Damn anyone who might say it was scandalous; she was married, yes, and she *Loved* Her husband. Shady was not that to her; he was a friend, damned near family to her at this point. She didn't care if people said something sideways about it, because she'd been worried sick! 

"Gone a while!" She scoffed at the words as she pulled back, looking at him up and down. "You can't say you'll up and leave again after coming back like this," She said, voice weak as her hands gripped his arms, like he might up and disappear right there in front of her eyes. 

Though the edges of her mouth did quirk up just a little, because at least there was something to talk about that was good outside the tragedy. "It's Mrs. Abrams now, but honestly Shady, you *Can* Just call me April," She said, hand going from his arm to his hand to place it on her stomach. "These are the twins," She said, eyes sparkling. "You know Eli Abrams? The milkman?" She blushed to her ears. "We got married a few months ago, if you can believe it. And, well..." Clearly they'd put in the work the night of their wedding, because here she was. 

The life inside of her squirmed a little, a leg kicking out and hitting his palm, which was pressed against her stomach still. "We're still working on names," She told him. "But enough about me— are you really going to leave again?" She asked him. She didn't blame him, but that didn't mean she wasn't worried sick about what was going on with him.
Marjorie
It wasn't propriety that kept Shady from hugging on April, for he had none — rather, it was the uncertainty that stemmed from being around pregnant women precious few times in his life. A few times it'd been Ma Rooster, and he was just little back then. Then it was Ophie, and all he knew was that she was *Delicate.*

But April didn't seem delicate. She had a grip* And he only got one arm out of the way to return it with. No matter! After being home, a warm welcome was just what the doctor ordered. Better than that split on his temple, hidden under his unruly hair. 

In any case, he made a show of contrition: she'd stayed. And lived. Got married, got pregnant. "I reckon I will," He agreed, "Lest y'all go changin' it up again." A wink, insinuating he knew she was a good woman. That she was a family woman, respectable — all those things that made the fact she was here talking to *Him* Real funny. He appreciated that about April; she'd treated him like anybody else from the start, and she hadn't needed to.

A small, mute shake of his head — he did not know Eli Abrams — but then a little chuckle that grew into a (kinda crass, actually) laugh as her cheeks colored.

"Missus *Abrams,*" He pretended to admonish, and added as though it were terribly scandalous, "The milkman." But he didn't mean that. His hand was on her belly, feeling the alien movement underneath her skin. He didn't even mean he was gonna keep calling her by such an unfamiliar sounding title. In the next breath, it was, "That's somethin', April. That's really somethin'. I was afeared I might not find y'all when I come back around."

He about couldn't take his hand away. He'd never known they moved around like that. "Twins," He muttered, looking faraway for a beat. He had so many questions about this in particular! How could they tell? Would the names rhyme? Would they mark one to tell them apart, if they came out the same gender?

She changed the subject, and he slowly took his hand off her. 

"I cain't s

Tay," He said, the three words breathed out in a defeated laugh. Of course he couldn't. But his eyebrows furrowed, and he was awkwardly quiet for a spell before he said, "April, I sure would like to talk to you s'more. Was you goin' home jest now?"
John
They looked like incredibly unlikely friends, but April had never considered Shady anything other than her equal. He was kind, she knew that personally. He was tough, sure, but so were lots of respectable folks around Briar Ridge. He was a criminal, sure, but no more than Alma Cooper or Dimitra Florakis or any of the other moonshiners and bootleggers. It was so normal here, April wasn't sure she could ever really consider it so *Criminal.* 

"I promise, it'll be Mrs. April Abrams until I die," She said softly. "This one is a keeper, Shady, he's a good man." The simple ring around her finger was something she cherished; she twisted it around her finger a few times as she spoke. 

"Don't say *The milkman* Like that!" She said, pretending to be scandalized about it all. She supposed it did seem a bit... Scandalous, what, with her having been a single, widowed housewife and him the handsome milkman... Like something out of a novel. "Here I am. All of us are safe and fine; the boys are getting bigger since the last you saw them. Mickey turned three and all, can you believe it?" 

Though her joy was sapped quickly, because *Of course* He was leaving again. But he couldn't— no, she understood why he wouldn't want to, but... It frightened her, the uncertainty of him going back out there. 

"I was just heading home," She gestured down the road. "The boys and I moved in with Eli, just down the way..." She linked her arm with Shady's, her basket of groceries in her other arm. "He has the boys, but I'm sure they'll be back soon." She assured him. "And I can show you the nursery!" 

She could pretend the conversation didn't have to become so solemn if she just acted like everything was completely normal, of course. Nothing was ever normal here, unfortunately.
Marjorie
Oh, but now he was more determined than ever to say *The milkman* Just like that for the foreseeable future. And *Oh,* He saw the little lapse when he told her he was going, and Briar Ridge seemed like the warmest place on the planet just then. After where he'd been, it was hard to leave. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to be without these people — the same ones he was so irritated with before she showed up! Now he saw them in a different light. It just took the little mood shift she triggered.

She caught on to his self-invitation, and they linked their arms. 

"Lemme get that," He said, reaching across her to try and nab her groceries. He was fairly insistent about carrying the weight, because she seemed to have plenty already and he couldn't help a bit with *That.*



This and, "Naw, I cain't hardly believe it. Three years old — yer gon' have'ta put that boy to work, ain'tcha? He oughta learn the dairy trade. Seems as a lotta folks want they kids to get into that coal business, but it ain't no good, Missus April." That was a slip; it was hard to acclimate so suddenly to her first name by itself. "I reckon they's both takin' to *The milkman*?" And, as if it was a great concession, "To Eli?"
John
There was little argument to be had about him carrying the basket; she could pick and choose her battles and honestly, this was one she didn't want to fight. Her back was killing her but she persisted as she must— the world didn't stop spinning just because she was a little tired. She had mouths to feed, things to do... So his assistance was something she actually deeply appreciated. 

Her lips pouted out a bit with each time he said *The milkman* In the way that made everything seem so scandalous! "Shady!" She whined, nudging him with her elbow gently, an admonishment for his behavior that was all in good fun. In all honesty, this was something she'd needed— a little bit of relief past all the things happening in Briar Ridge. To focus on a friend's return, just for a moment, she could pretend everything was normal again. 

"Eli's family is wealthy," She explained, tucking some hair behind her ear. "But they live off in the city. They sent us some money to help with the babies— they're just excited he decided to get married and have children!" She beamed; clearly her marriage and family were something she was extremely proud of. "But he works awful hard for us." 

April paused a moment, resting her free hand on her stomach as one of the babies delivered a swift kick to one of her organs. "I'm not sending a single one of my children to work in any mines— especially not after that mine shaft collapsed." It made her sick to her stomach to think about all those poor people, trapped down there... 

"To answer your question; the boys love him. Absolutely adore him. He's so good with them too— when we first started seeing each other, you know, he got up with them in the morning and made breakfast! I've never slept in before, I felt so..." She put her free hand on her cheek bashfully. "Listen to me, going on and on about myself and all..." She looked to him now, eyebrows raised. The path was winding, taking them further down the residential area. "Tell me what's going on!"
Marjorie
Right now, April represented that life went on. He'd been gone, but life went on, and good things happened to people who deserved good things, and maybe there was no need for him to come back, after all. 

Which was a little sad, but mostly, it was encouraging. And he was glad if her boys were loved and growing up happy, because that was one area where even he could get a little sappy — it was good to see a kid be loved. It was good to see a kid get to be a kid. That's all.

"Y'all talk like yer so lucky," He said, and grinned at April while her grocery basket swung whimsically in his other hand. "But I reckon he is even more." (He sorta wanted to meet *The milkman.* Not that it was up to Shady to measure who all was good enough for April Baker, but part of him still wanted to make sure.) "An' anyhow, I could listen to y'all goin' on all day. It's nice. I'm glad things is been so good for you an' yin's."

And he. Had. *Questions.*
** **

** ** 
"I gone home a spell. Seen my folks. They's jest as ornery as they ever was. Ma's jest as big an' mean, an' Pa's as little an' crafty." All an understatement. Ma and Pa Rooster were still two overlords reigning terror over a strange holler in Somewhere Out Yonder, North Carolina. "Seen my brothers. Got in a fight with Argent — he's the big'un. Seven feet tall, I shit you not." (About six feet and four inches, actually.) "Boy, he busted my head good. An' I been seein' the country, too. It's been nice." It wasn't, really, but they were playing a game where everything was mild and funny or outright idyllic, right?

He just wanted to come back to her life, really. 

"Y'all's sure gonna have a lotta youngin's runnin' 'round here. Half the school's gonna be the Abrams kids." It ran up against what he'd been telling her about his life, like he didn't want any questions. And to drive that idea home, he went on rambling, "Shit *Fire,* It sure is cool. Ain't y'all too cold, Missus April? I kin spare my coat, these gloves..."
John
She was sure they were both keeping things to themselves, at least for now. Neither wanted to confront the horrors they'd seen in this world; to talk about what might be out there and what was left behind here. They wanted to pretend for a little while that they were just catching up like it was an everyday sort of thing, that everything was *Normal.* 

"I'll bet it was nice seeing everybody again," She said, though she knew that it had to be a little more than what he let on. Shady was an enigma, rough around the edges. She could only imagine his family had to have been of the same kind— she had an image in her head of a rough and tough mother, brothers with stern eyes and overalls. 

But clearly, he didn't want to talk about all that, and she didn't blame him. Her parents weren't with her anymore; they'd caught a nasty case of pneumonia and passed a few years ago. Family wasn't always easy to talk about, for whatever reason someone may have. She was pulled from her thoughts by his words, and she blushed something fierce up to her ears. 

"Only four!" She said, laughing a bit in embarrassment. "Four isn't too much— there's some in town with seven or eight kids," She pointed out, shaking her head. Though he wasn't entirely wrong; four was a lot of kids for their small house. But they'd manage— they were already looking for another abode to move into anyhow. 

"Don't you worry about me, Shady," She said, pulling her shawl around her a little tighter. "I'll be alright against the cold. It's been worse. You should've been here a few weeks ago when the blizzard came through. We were stuck inside for a few days!" She said, a soft laugh following. "Thank God we had firewood to last us." And being able to get cozy with a loved one was nothing to be upset about. 

"Since when are you such a gentleman?" She joked softly, nudging him with her elbow. "Oh! That's it there," April said as she pointed towards the little house down at the end. "Isn't it cute?"
Marjorie
Nice was one word for it.

"*Four,*" He emphasized, and followed up with a low whistle. Of course he was teasing her; he'd grown up in a family with more youngin's than that. But, "'Least four more to go, ain't they?"

He knew about the blizzard, albeit not the version of it experienced in Briar Ridge. It'd wrought havoc all over the north and southeast, and he'd been holed up with his unpleasant relatives for those same days April mentioned. He repeated her once again, saying, "Thank God," With inflection that suggested his mind had flown far away. 

Only for a beat. He eyed her shawl like he didn't quite approve of the thickness of it, and only when her elbow prodded his ribs. She was pointing him toward her house, and bless her heart, the little lady was house proud! He was grinning before he'd even looked away, but raised his eyes to the house and admired it from afar for a few minutes without slowing his stride.

It *Was* Little for four kids, sure - but that didn't register. People lived where they lived. It didn't occur to him it could be within someone's means to move for the sake of adding room. What the place had was walls. A roof. A cellar? He almost asked.

Instead, Shady said, "Real cute," And grinned in his facetious Cheshire way. Cute was a funny way to describe a house; not a word he'd ever have picked. But, somehow, the fact she described it that way did seem to fit the bill for that particular expression.

"I reckon I'm playin' cavalier 'cause I's about to ask for somethin'," He went on as they approached her sidewalk. He was making that up as they went along, picking up the words like a trail of breadcrumbs left on the walk. What could he ask for that wouldn't impose? "See, I been outside a minute. Reckon I could thaw my fingers out 'front'a the fire a minute? I been standin' out a while an' all. I'll carry y'all in some firewood for the trouble."

He didn't leave much room for a denial before throwing in the proposal of his favor.
John
She couldn't help but to laugh. "Four, period. Absolutely no more after this!" She said, though she knew her words were far from truth in her heart of hearts. If Eli had asked for one or twenty, she'd happily do so. She loved children and she loved her husband, and making a family together was something she loved; seeing him with the boys made her heart so warm in the darkest of days. Shady wasn't so far off from the truth of it all— who knew how large their brood would end up? 

She was so proud of her house. She'd really whipped it into shape; from a bachelor pad to a proper home for all of them, she'd scrubbed the floors and washed the walls and done everything she could. She'd even made brand new drapes from an old dress that didn't fit anymore! 

She beamed with pride, before her attention turned towards him more and she reached out, feeling how particularly icy his fingertips were. She inhaled sharply and shook her head, already pushing him along towards the house. "Why you think I'd put you out in the cold after carrying my basket home is beyond me, Shady Rooster," She said as she pushed the door into the house and let him in. 

"Go on, get in. I'll stoke the fire and you... Just settle in." She said, gesturing towards the couch. They had a lot to talk about, didn't they?
Marjorie
A pang of guilt shot him through the heart when April felt his fingers — which were, thankfully, cold. He grinned at her through the agony of it all, and stepped right after her into the sudden welcoming heat of the home.

He couldn't help but stand there in the foyer, his arm dropping slackly to free her. The groceries hung in the other hand, no longer swinging with his stride. For a spell, he took the place in; the story was all painted there for him. It smacked of a woman's touch. That was always something thrown over the bones of a place; it was in the little details. It was in fabric and comfort and warmth. Had he broken into this place without knowing the owners, he could have said with certainty there was a wife who loved her family, who made this place a home.

His smile had grown faraway; all the mischief leached from his eyes. As she stepped farther into the house, he closed the door behind him and did not so much as cut a glance at the seat she offered while he turned the lock.