Chapter Seventeen – Estelle
Sleep, little one. Estelle kissed Adara’s forehead and crept out of the room as the little girl lay napping on the sofa. It had been a long morning, first breakfast with Leo’s family, and then making deliveries with Leo.
I don’t think I’ve seen her so happy since. Estelle’s dragon paused, too emotional to finish the thought.
But Estelle didn’t need to hear the words to understand her dragon’s meaning.
She likes it here, Estelle thought as she moved quietly into the kitchen.
She belongs here, her dragon added softly. And so do we.
Estelle moved to the kitchen window, gazing out at the mountain view. Afternoon light filtered through the pines, casting long shadows across the yard. Something about the stillness after such a full morning left her feeling oddly unsettled.
I never thought we could have this, she whispered.
Her dragon stirred. Have what, exactly?
This. Estelle gestured vaguely around the cottage. A place that feels settled. People who see Adara for who she is and welcome her anyway.
And Leo, her dragon prompted.
Estelle’s cheeks warmed. Yes. And Leo.
She moved away from the window, drawn by impulse to her bedroom.
The floorboards creaked softly beneath her feet as she crossed to the bed and kneeled beside it.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the bag where she’d hidden the wooden box containing the silver dragon.
She pushed the clothes to one side and wrapped her fingers around the smooth edges of the box.
Are you sure about this? her dragon asked gently.
No, Estelle admitted. But I need to look.
She pulled the box out and sat on the edge of the bed, just looking at it. Then she lifted the lid. There was the dragon pendant. But that wasn’t why she’d opened the box.
It was what was beneath it. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the brown envelope, flipped it open, and slid out the contents.
The first photo showed Maris laughing, her head thrown back, dark curls catching sunlight. Julian stood beside her, his arm around her waist, looking at her with such open adoration it made Estelle’s heart ache.
They were so in love, she whispered as she ran her fingers over the photo.
So happy, her dragon agreed. So certain they had all the time in the world.
The next photograph was of Adara as a tiny baby, cradled in Maris’s arms. Julian hovered nearby, like the proud father he was.
I remember this. I took this one, Estelle said, tracing the edge of the photo. The day they brought her home from the hospital.
Maris was glowing, her dragon observed. Motherhood suited her.
Everything suited Maris, Estelle murmured.
She shuffled through more photographs: Adara’s first bath, Julian asleep with the baby on his chest, Maris holding her daughter up to the camera with fierce pride.
Then she paused, her breath catching on a photograph she had forgotten was there. Margaret, holding infant Adara, her face soft with wonder. Julian stood beside his mother, his hand resting on her shoulder, both of them gazing down at the baby.
She loved her, Estelle said quietly. From the very beginning.
Of course she did, her dragon replied. Adara is her flesh and blood. A part of Julian.
The photograph stirred something difficult in Estelle. Not the sharp jolt of anxiety that usually came with thoughts of Margaret, but something more complicated.
Her dragon shifted uneasily. Are you feeling sorry for her now?
No. Yes. I don’t know. Estelle set the photograph aside. Watching Leo with his family today, seeing how they hold each other up... it made me wonder who held Margaret.
There were more photos, holidays, ordinary days, moments frozen in time. In each one, love was visible, as real as the glossy paper in her hands.
Including Margaret.
She flipped to one last photograph: Maris and Julian on their wedding day, faces filled with joy, and beside them Margaret, beaming with pride and uncomplicated happiness.
She lost everything, Estelle whispered. Her son. Her daughter-in-law. And then, from her point of view, her granddaughter, too.
That doesn’t excuse what she did to us, her dragon said firmly.
No, Estelle said. It doesn’t. But maybe it explains it.
She looked down at the box in her lap, at the life that had existed before everything narrowed into fear and escape and survival.
I can’t keep doing this alone, she said suddenly.
Her dragon lifted its head. Doing what?
Carrying all of this. Estelle gestured at the photographs. The memories. The fear. The responsibility of making sure Adara knows who she is. She swallowed. I need help.
From Leo? her dragon asked.
Yes. But not just Leo. Estelle set the box aside and reached for her phone. I need to talk to Fiona.
Her dragon hissed in surprise. Fiona?
Because she understands us in a way no one else can, Estelle said. Not even Leo.
But we don’t like her.
We don’t have to like her to need her, Estelle replied.
And you think she might have answers? her dragon asked. A way to stop running?
I hope so, Estelle said.
Her dragon was quiet for a moment. You’re really thinking of staying.
I want to, Estelle admitted. For Adara’s sake. For all our sakes.
She picked up her phone and texted Leo.
Do you have Fiona’s number?
His reply came quickly.
I can get it. Everything okay?
Estelle smiled despite herself.
Fine. Just need to ask her something.
Estelle sat staring at her phone until five minutes later, when his message came through with Fiona’s number. Only then did doubt creep back in.
What if this is a mistake? her dragon whispered.
What if it isn’t? Estelle whispered back and pressed call.
The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. Fiona’s voice, crisp and no-nonsense, instructed her to leave a message.
“Hi, Fiona. This is Estelle. I was hoping we could talk. About...” She hesitated. “About what you said when we first met. Please call me back when you can.”
She ended the call, her pulse racing.
It’s done, her dragon said.
Now we wait, Estelle replied.
She was just closing the box and tucking it back into the bag before going downstairs. Adara was still sleeping peacefully, and Estelle stood in the doorway simply watching her.
Then she stiffened. Someone was coming, and that someone was not Leo.
She pushed her senses out and locked onto the approaching car. Fiona.
That was fast, her dragon said warily.
Too fast, Estelle replied as the sound of the car reached her.
She took one last glance at Adara, then hurried to the front door, opening it before Fiona could knock.
The older woman got out of her car and walked toward the cottage, one eyebrow raised in what might have been amusement. “Well,” she said dryly. “That was convenient timing.”
“How did you...”
“Get here so quickly?” Fiona finished. “I was close by when I got your message. I suspected it was only a matter of time before you called.” She tilted her head. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Estelle hesitated only briefly before stepping aside. “Adara’s napping.”
“All the better,” Fiona said, moving past her into the cottage. “Some conversations are easier without little ears nearby.”
She acts as if she owns the place, Estelle’s dragon observed as Fiona headed for the kitchen.
It was true. Despite her age and slight build, Fiona moved with the kind of certainty that made the cottage feel smaller.
“Tea?” Estelle asked, reaching for the kettle more for something to do than out of hospitality.
“Please. No sugar.”
Estelle set the kettle on and turned back to face her. “You said you expected me to call.”
Fiona settled herself at the kitchen table as if she had every right to be there. “I expected you would either come to your senses and call or pack your bags and disappear again. I’m relieved to see it was the former.”
Estelle folded her arms. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
“I usually am.”
“So here we are.” Estelle did not want to reveal too much too soon until she’d gotten a handle on Fiona.
Fiona studied her for a moment. “After our first meeting, I did a little digging. You seemed a little on edge for a woman merely starting over, and I knew the moment I smelled her that the child is not your blood.” Her gaze sharpened. “That told me enough to know there was more to the story.”
Estelle went still. We should have run.
Too late now, her dragon said.
“I do not care for dangers I do not understand wandering into my town,” Fiona continued. “Particularly not one of the dragon variety.”
“My town?” she repeated carefully as she poured the tea. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
Fiona accepted the tea Estelle set before her. “It means I keep watch. I know who comes and goes. I don’t like surprises. It’s how I keep my family safe. As a mother, you understand that.”
Estelle’s fingers tightened around her own mug. “You make that sound like a warning.”
Fiona looked at her over the rim of her cup. “It’s not. It’s a statement of fact. There are so few of us around these mountains. So they’re all like family to me.” She set the cup down. “And before you bristle any further, that includes you. And Adara.”
Silence stretched between them.
Her dragon lifted its head. She means it.
Estelle did not relax. Not entirely. But something in Fiona’s tone had shifted the ground beneath her.
“You know about Margaret,” Estelle said quietly.
Fiona inclined her head. “I know enough. A grieving grandmother with money, persistence, and a conviction that she knows best can cause a great deal of damage, even with all the best intentions.”
The truth of it struck deep.
“She loves Adara,” Estelle said.
“I don’t doubt it,” Fiona replied. “That does not make the child safe.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Estelle stared down into her tea, watching the faint ribbon of steam rise. “No,” she said at last. “It doesn’t.”
Fiona said nothing, and somehow that made it easier to go on.
“She loved her son, Julian, so much,” Estelle murmured. “And when he died, I think something in her narrowed. Everything became about holding on to what was left. At first, I told myself it was grief. That if I just gave her time, if I was patient, if I was fair...”
“But fair did not stop her pushing,” Fiona said.
“No.” Estelle let out a shaky breath. “It never stopped her. It only made her think there was always one more inch to take.”
Fiona nodded once, as if that confirmed something she had already suspected.
“I can’t let Adara go. She doesn’t know what she is yet,” Estelle whispered. “She’s too young. And when the time comes...” Her voice thinned. “I remember what it was like, not knowing what I was. Thinking I was losing my mind.”
Fiona’s face did not soften exactly, but it became intent. Listening.
“I was alone,” Estelle said. “I had no one. Maris, Adara’s mom, was the one who showed me what I was. Maris taught me how to shift without fighting it, how to live with it, how not to be ashamed of it.” Her eyes burned. “And she should have been here for Adara. Not me. Her.”
“Yes,” Fiona said quietly. “She should have.”
There was no false comfort in it. No bright attempt to polish grief into something bearable. Just truth. And because of that, Estelle felt herself breathe a little easier.
“I can’t lose Adara,” she said. “I know I’ve said that before, but I don’t think anyone understands what I mean when I say it.
I don’t just mean to Margaret. I mean to fear.
To confusion. To growing up with people who would love her and yet would not understand who she is.
What she is. People who might reject her when she needed them the most.”
Fiona gave a slow nod. “That I understand.”
The words were plain, but they carried weight.
Estelle studied her. “Were you alone, too?”
Fiona’s mouth curved faintly, though there was little humor in it. “For a long while. Most of us are, at some point. Dragons are not exactly common, and families do not always pass down wisdom as neatly as blood.” She picked up her tea again. “But you learn to build a life. Brick by brick.”
That is what we are learning to do, Estelle’s dragon said.
“I keep thinking about Margaret,” she admitted. “I was looking through some old photographs. And it made me see that she wasn’t always... like this.”
“No one ever is,” Fiona said. “Grief can consume you. It can change you. Mold you into something you never imagined you could become.”
Estelle frowned. “Do you think that’s what this is? Grief?”
“I do.” Fiona tipped her head. “That does not make her harmless. But it does mean the story is not as simple as villain and victim.”
“No,” Estelle said softly. “It isn’t.”
“And that is often the most exhausting kind of danger,” Fiona replied.
Estelle glanced toward the living room where Adara slept, then back to Fiona.
“I want to stay,” she said slowly, trying the words. “I want to make our life here. But only if that means we are free of fear.”
Fiona set down her mug. “Then do it.”
Estelle blinked. “It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” Fiona retorted. “You were drawn here for a reason.”
“Because Leo was here,” Estelle said.
“Maybe.” Her eyes crackled. “Or maybe it’s because a wise old dragon lives here.”
Estelle gave a helpless huff of laughter. “I somehow doubt it was because of you.”
Fiona lifted one shoulder. “And yet you called me.”
That did it. Estelle laughed again, properly this time, and when the sound faded, she felt different. Lighter.
Her dragon settled more comfortably inside her, less restless than before. I still don’t know if I like her.
I know, Estelle thought. But I think we needed her.
Fiona rose then, smoothing down the front of her cardigan. “I won’t overstay. You’ve had enough emotional upheaval for one day.”
Estelle stood too. “That’s it? You’re just... leaving?”
“For now.” Fiona headed for the door. “Use it when you have made up your mind.”
“Made up my mind?” Estelle asked.
“About staying. I already have.”
“Then you know what you have to do.” Then she stepped out onto the porch and strode to her car.
Estelle stood where she was for a long moment, staring at the open doorway.
Behind her, from the sofa, came the soft rustle as Adara stirred in her sleep.
Her dragon lifted its head. Well.
Well, Estelle agreed.
What did she mean? her dragon asked.
I don’t have a clue.