Caradoc
Could it really have been five years?
Emmeline had been organizing some paperwork, files, letters, old school essays because somehow their closet had become a disaster zone. Somehow meaning that her one year old son Andrew had managed to get his hands on the various boxes and thought it had been quite fun to spill their contents all over the floor. Emmeline had found him looking very pleased with himself and gnawing on an envelope. Children could be so precious.
"Don't do it," Emmeline muttered as her hand gripped the back of Andrew's shirt as he tried to scale the dresser drawers of the closet. Her eyes were focused on the letter in her other hand, something she hadn't seen in a very, very long time. Five years it must have been. Her acceptance letter into the St. Mungo's healing program, still rather crisp because she had tucked it away immediately to keep in tact. Not that Emmeline did much reminiscing of her last few years in England as most of her memories were fraught with pain and despair, but this had been a happy day for more reasons than one.
Andrew stopped struggling against her hold for a moment and Emmeline looked over at him. His bright blue eyes were focused toward the door of the closet, and a second later he let out a shrill shriek of delight. Emmeline recognized the excitement in his voice and she let him hurry off to greet Caradoc, who must have just arrived home.
"I'm in the closet!" she called after, hearing footsteps and doors shutting. Five years?
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