Chapter VI: A Birth and a Death

The twins were born at home. Despite my doctor's protests, I insisted on a home birth, as my mother and grandmother had done before me. It was difficult though. I hadn't expected this delivery to be so hard, though I suppose I should have factored that in since everything about the pregnancy with the twins had been more difficult. Somehow, though, I managed, though what with the restlessness of the contractions, the boys ended up being born outside, I was wandering so much! I wouldn't let Xander help either, because his frantic fidgeting was stressing me out. So when the final push came for each of them, I was alone. Coming into the world under a sky full of stars is surely a good omen for their futures. I named them Mattei and Timo, both strong Roma names, and brought them inside to meet their father and sister.

We had used half of the money almost as soon as Xander deposited it, building an upstairs addition onto the house for the boys' rooms. Xander was so excited to be a father, but I could tell he was beginning to feel a bit tied down. I tried to ward off his panic over unresolved commitment issues by giving him room, taking care of the boys and Lilah mostly on my own, but he insisted on helping as much as work would let him. Despite his fear that he will become his father, Xander is a good man, and he makes a wonderful husband, even if he refuses to claim the title. He even threw Lilah and the boys a birthday party, with cakes he made himself!

Lilah blew out her candles first, and transformed before my eyes into a beautiful, raven-haired little girl who favors me strongly.

Lilah

Both of the boys look a lot like Xander, though Timo has my green eyes and they both have reddish brown hair, darker than Xander's.

Mattei

Timo

The next day, Xander made the kids breakfast and let me sleep in. When I awoke, I kissed him on the cheek. “You are the best,” I murmured. He gave me his adorable trademark little boy grin.

The day went more or less as usual. It was a Saturday, so Xander had to work, and Lilah and I took turns entertaining the boys and teaching them to walk, talk, and use the potty. But around 2pm, our seemingly normal lives came to a screeching halt as I received a phone call from Xander's father, Buster.

Bessie Clavell was dead.

Buster had discovered her upon returning home from his weekly golf date with a retired work buddy. She had been in the bathroom, crumpled into a heap, still in her bathrobe. The police said it was death by natural causes, but something in me just knew not all was what it seemed to be. But without anything other than a hunch and vague suspicions to go on, I could only keep my misgivings to myself and offer comfort and support to Xander, his father, and the children. Fortunately, the children seemed only mildly upset, as they hadn't gotten much chance to get to know their grandmother, since Buster only consented to visiting on special occasions. But Xander had been out on the field practicing all day and hadn't gotten the news, so when he came home from work late that night, after the kids were all in bed, I had to tell him. I cradled him in my arms as he sobbed that night, lamenting his father's callous nature that had prevented his mother from getting to know her grandchildren.

“She never even met her grandsons, Moriah! I swear, as long as I live, I will never forgive that man for taking her away from my children!” he spat. I could only hush him, rubbing his back soothingly. The truth is, I felt that this was a perfect opportunity: to heal the breach between Xander and his father, to ensure our children would at least get to know one of their grandparents, to bring healing to the heart of the man I loved. It would be difficult, no doubt about that, but Xander was a good man, and I knew he could find forgiveness in his heart, given proper motivation. And when it came to his children, Xander was possibly the most motivated man I had ever known. As I wiped away the tears trickling down my cheek and tried to be strong for Xander, I felt the Magic whispering to me. Yes; despite how Xander felt in the immediate wake of his mother's death, he needed to mend things with his father. And if he wouldn't take the first step, I would.

I was still wondering what that step would be three days later when we attended the burial.

The funeral was lovely but solemn, and Xander refused to even speak to his father. I tried to approach him to give him my condolences, but Buster made a face at me and said nothing. Nevertheless, I continued, “If you need anything, please, don't hesitate to call.” He merely snorted and turned to talk to another relative.

Despite this being the first time he had seen either of his grandsons since they were born, he neither held them nor asked about them. I tried not to let it show, but truthfully I was a little hurt by his disinterest. I knew he and Xander had problems, and that he might even associate me with his son's earlier failures to live up to his father's expectations, but how could he punish innocent children in such a way? Still, I was determined to make things right in this family. 

Gypsies consider each other one large family, with everyone being called “Uncle” or “Cousin” or “Nona”, regardless of their relation. I may not be among the Family anymore, but that was no reason to settle for less than that sort of close-knit community if I could do anything about it; if not for Xander's sake, then for my children's. As we rode home in the taxi, I silently took Xander's hand, trying both to comfort him, and to strengthen him for the trials to come.