#kadaransmuggler

One dinner is what she asked of him. One family dinner, with herself and Joseph and Ethan sitting together at a table with a proper meal in front of them, not to be disturbed by anyone, even Joseph’s siblings. 

“And if Ethan will not agree?” Joseph asked her, eyes still red from the revelation that fatherhood took hard work. “What then?”

“He will,” Noelle answered firmly. She pressed a kiss to Joseph’s forehead and left him to his thoughts as she went to find his son.

Their son.

She had all but adopted Ethan when she first laid eyes upon him. He was only a child, raw from the loss of his mother and wary of a father he’d never known. Joseph offered him a hug. He didn’t accept. But when he turned those big blue eyes that all the Seeds shared toward Noelle, his lower lip began to tremble and the walls he had carefully built up began to crack. She knelt beside him, and the minute she opened her arms invitingly, he fell into them and squeezed her so tightly his knuckles paled. 

He never called her “Mother,” but she didn’t mind. She knew no one could ever replace his mother, and she didn’t bother trying. She loved him like her own, and so long as he knew it, that was enough for her.

After speaking with Joseph, she found Ethan returning from the forest with Jacob, dragging a slain stag behind them. Jacob gave her a nod of acknowledgement. Ethan forced a smile.

“Can I borrow him?” she asked Jacob, folding her hands behind her back. “You’ll have him back shortly.”

“Up to him,” Jacob replied.

Ethan tempered a sigh and let go of the stag before wiping his hands on his thighs. “What do you want, Noelle?” he said, sounding sharper than he’d intended.

“Just to talk, nothing more,” she answered easily. “Walk with me?”

He glanced at Jacob, who nodded once as if giving permission. He joined Noelle as she started off at a leisurely pace toward the river.

“I understand why you’re upset,” she said gently. “And I hope you know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for New Eden.”

“You see how little it matters to these people. All they care about is their Father.” Ethan shook his head, trying to scatter the frustrated thoughts rolling in his mind. “I will never be him, not to them. Even if I share his face.”

“You share more than you think,” Noelle said with a soft smile. “You’re both brave. You’re both strong-willed. You’re both charismatic…” She gave Ethan a knowing look. “And you’re both stubborn. Neither of you can entertain the idea of a world where you just might be wrong.”

“I can,” Ethan protested. “I have been wrong before and I will be wrong again, no doubt. I was wrong to think that my father would return for me, for example.”

“Oh, Ethan…” Noelle stopped at the edge of the riverbed and took one of Ethan’s hands in both of her own. “Your father loves you. His priorities are just skewed right now. Seeing him ignore you the way he did when he returned, seeing the way the others turned away from you, it made me furious. I’m almost surprised you didn’t hear me yelling at your father all the way in the forest.”

The flicker of a smile made its way onto Ethan’s face. “And did he listen?”

“Yes, he did.” She ran one of her thumbs over the back of Ethan’s knuckles, slightly discolored from incessant training with the Chosen. “It took a few… choice words… at varying volumes…”

He gave a dry chuckle.

“…But I was able to show him how he hurt you. And he’d like to apologize to you.”

The smile disappeared, replaced in an instant by a bitter scowl. “So he sent you?” he scoffed. “He could not come himself, I see.”

“No, no.” Noelle brushed a strand of his wiry hair out of his face. “He wants to apologize in person. I said he should do so over dinner. A family dinner, just the three of us. We won’t be disturbed, and that way you can both talk freely. Say whatever’s on your mind. Anything at all. …With me as a mediator, of course. We don’t want it to get out of hand.”

Ethan looked past her at the rippling river. “I do not expect he will listen to me.”

Noelle shook her head slowly. “He will, Ethan. But you have to listen to him too.”

Another sigh, this one long and drawn-out. Eventually, he said, “All right. When is this family dinner?”

“Dusk,” she answered. “We’ll be in the house on the hill.”

Ethan took his hand back and crossed his arms. “I cannot rid myself of the feeling that I will regret this, but… I will try. For you, if not him.”

“That’s all I ask,” Noelle said. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead, then smiled at him once more before returning to the main village.

Ethan gently kicked a small pebble into the river. It sank lamely into the thick mud at its edge. With a shake of his head, he shut his eyes and muttered to himself, “Now he wants to apologize. Mother, give me strength.”

After he returned to the village and began to help Jacob skin and dress the meat of the stag they took down, dusk fell upon him all too quickly. He washed his hands, pulled his hair out of his face, and steeled himself for inevitable disappointment before making his way toward the house on the hill, distant from the other huts and the chapel. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, taking deep, measured breaths, and finally knocked on the archway before stepping inside.

Joseph stood from his place at the table. “Son,” he said quietly, almost reverently.

“Father,” Ethan returned evenly.

“I’m so glad you came,” Noelle said warmly, beckoning him to sit beside her. “Come on, now, the food’s going to get cold.”

The spread was wholly tempting, and Ethan’s stomach growled as the smells of roasted venison and vegetables reached him. He sat down, even though his legs were a bit too long for the chair and his knees almost hit the table, and as Noelle started carving slices of venison for each of them, he took a helping of vegetables and began to eat.

An uncomfortable silence overtook them as Joseph stiffly took his share and Noelle gave them both their venison before serving herself. She took note of the tension in the air and took a deep breath before saying, “So! Ethan, how was your hunt with Jacob?”

“He found a stag. I killed it.” Ethan took a bite of his venison, eyes fixed on Joseph.

“You’re becoming quite the hunter, Ethan,” he said, doing his best to sound warm.

Ethan’s feet pressed harder against the floor. “Thank you,” he managed. “Jacob is a good teacher.”

“I’m glad you get along with him. I was… worried my brothers would not accept you, but it’s clear that they love you as much as I do.” Joseph studied his son intently, waiting for the inevitable fallout of that statement, but Ethan simply lowered his eyes and continued eating.

More silence. It felt like the biting chill of winter, filling the room and freezing Joseph in place.

Noelle folded her hands in her lap. She knew she needed to keep them talking until they both said all they needed to say. After a deep breath, she committed. “Joseph. I believe it was unfair of you to leave without telling anyone.”

“Without telling me, you mean,” Ethan muttered after a sip of water.

“No, Ethan, I mean anyone. Even me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re lying. He tells you everything.”

“Not this.” She turned her gaze to Joseph. “That morning, he kissed my cheek, said ‘Look north,’ and left without another word. I didn’t think anything of it; he always says odd things like that.”

A self-conscious smile flickered on Joseph’s lips for a moment. Noelle returned the expression with a brighter, steadier one, her eyes holding untold affection even despite the tough love she’d shown him earlier.

Ethan, however, only felt frustration boiling in his throat. “You didn’t even tell her?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, Ethan,” Joseph said quietly. “Not Noelle. Not my siblings. Not my son.” He paused, wetting his lips and swallowing down the sour silence. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing somewhat. “You should be,” he said icily. The words landed hard, and as he watched his father wince, he felt a twinge of guilt. He forced it away. “I made so many sacrifices for ‘your children.’ I led them. Alone.”

“Ethan.” Noelle’s voice was gentle, and she placed her hand atop one of his as it rested on the table, curled into a fist. “That’s not true. Your aunt and uncles helped. So did I.”

His fingers slowly relaxed underneath hers, even as his hackles rose. “You advised,” he corrected. “I still made all the decisions. They all still came to me whenever they needed something. Any time they would have gone to the Father, they came to me, saying I was the closest thing they had to him. As if that is all I am - an extension of you. And still, have I heard a single word of thanks?” 

The momentary pause was bitter. Without warning, Ethan smacked his free fist against the table and answered his own question with a cry: “Never!”

Noelle reached across the gap between her chair and Ethan’s and began to rub small, soothing circles on his back. “Shhh…” she breathed gently. “I know it’s frustrating. I told him that.”

Joseph folded his hands on the table. “You deserve recognition for everything you’ve done, Ethan. I want you to know that I appreciate your efforts… and that I’m proud of you.”

Ethan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed down his next words. They held too much venom. Instead, he focused on the feeling of Noelle’s warm hand on his back and let his father’s words sink in.

He is proud.

“My children will come to respect you,” Joseph continued softly. “I will encourage them to remember who guided them in my absence.”

Ethan’s mood - and expression - immediately soured, all of the warmth of his father’s pride iced over in an instant. “Your children,” he snapped, emphasizing the word bitterly, “would do anything if the Father asked them to. Why would I want forced appreciation? They take the words from your mouth by rote; how genuine could their thanks possibly be if the sentiment is simply repeated from you?”

Noelle gave Joseph a warning glance, then turned a softer gaze toward Ethan. “Your father can gently encourage them to think of you, but that’s the best he can do without putting words in their mouths outright. Would that be alright?”

Ethan relaxed his jaw, speaking again only after a long pause. “Fine. I suspect you enjoy the company of your children more than mine in any case.”

“Ethan, that isn’t fair,” Noelle said quietly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “You know he loves you.”

“Yes, I’m sure he does. He loves all his children.” His stare was ice-cold as he fixed his eyes upon his father’s. “Doesn’t he?”

Joseph’s heart sank. “I… yes, of course I do.”

“And I am just the same as them, am I not?” Ethan’s tone grew colder and colder with every word he spoke. “Blood matters little - those were your words. Just as Faith is your sister, all of your children are my siblings. Just one big family, aren’t we, Father?”

“Of course, but—“

“See?” Ethan pushed his chair out abruptly and rose to his feet. “You don’t care any more for me than you do for them. We are all equal to you, aren’t we? Never mind the fact that I am your son. Never mind the fact that my mother died just so I could have a chance to meet you! She wanted so badly for me to have a father, for you to have a son, that she walked barefoot through a wasteland with a toddler on her back and all she received in return was death. But of course, none of that matters to you, does it? You’re not even passing leadership down to me. All I am to you is just another one of your multitude of children.” He looked furiously from Joseph to Noelle, then back again. “I don’t know what I was expecting, coming here.”

He turned to leave, but Noelle stood and blocked his path. “Ethan,” she insisted, “please, stay. Let him answer, at least, and if you don’t like what he says, then you can go. Just… give him a minute. For me, if nothing else.”

Joseph stood up as well, and walked slowly around the table until he was standing in front of Ethan. It felt odd, how he had shrunk with age and his son had grown so much. It seemed like only moments ago, Ethan was no higher than his waist.

Noelle took a short step back, letting the two most important men in her life look each other directly in the eyes. This is the kind of talk she had hoped for. Nothing held back. Nothing left unsaid.

Joseph’s voice was lower than a whispered prayer and twice as reverent. “Ethan. My son. …I am so sorry.”

“That’s not enough,” Ethan muttered.

“I know.” Joseph drew in a slow breath. “Sorry cannot bring your mother back. Sorry cannot return the time I should have had with you but squandered instead. Sorry does nothing. But it’s all that I have.” He looked at his son with pleading eyes and a trembling chin. “The flock… they are my children, yes. But they will never be you. And you will never be them. They are my children, but you are my son. I only have one. I have only ever had one. Even when I ignored you. Even when I pushed you. Even when I treated you no differently than them, you have always been my son.”

Slowly, he raised his hands to Ethan’s shoulders, and as his eyes shone with unshed tears, he said, “I have always, always loved you, Ethan. I love you in a way I will never love any other being in this world. I will never love my siblings, or Noelle, or even God Himself the same way I love you. You are my only child. Being your father is a privilege I have not always been worthy of. All I can do now is apologize, and promise to try my very hardest to become worthy of that privilege again.”

Ethan’s lips twitched and his eyes burned. He looked up to the ceiling, blinked, and inhaled deeply, steadying his voice and his expression before looking back to his father. “That… is all I can ask.”

“May I?” Joseph asked, opening his arms as an invitation.

After a moment, Ethan nodded, and Joseph wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Ethan’s body was rigid, but with a low sigh, he began to relax. With one arm, he lightly hugged his father in return, and though he pulled away quickly, he felt a lingering warmth from the embrace as he adjusted his tunic.

“I’m proud of you both,” said Noelle with a soft smile. “I’m not expecting this to fix everything overnight, but… I think this will help. No, I know this will help.” 

Ethan lowered his gaze to his feet, feeling smaller than he thought he would. “I hope it does,” he replied quietly. “I’d… like to take some time to think about all of this.”

“Of course.” She gave him a hug as brief and light as a breeze, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead before folding her hands in front of her. “Go on. Take as much time as you need. It’s a lovely night to sleep under the stars.”

He nodded absently. “Goodnight, Noelle.” After a moment, he looked back to Joseph, and with a lower, softer voice, he managed, “Goodnight, Father.”