Chapter Text
When Esme was young, her mother used to tell her the story of how she and her father had fallen in love. She told it like it was a fairytale, with romantic yearning and grand gestures of adoration. Esme’s mother, Mary, was a dreamer, much like her daughter.
The story went something like, Mary was working as a washerwoman at an inn in Columbus, and caught the eye of a man moving west. Mary often said, “He fell in love with me the moment we met eyes, and he decided to stay.” Esme thought that the idea of her father, a wealthy entrepreneur heading west to build a home and family staying in a town he had not intended to for her mother, was the most beautiful thing in the world.
That was not how it happened, and she wouldn’t realize that for a long, long time.
Esme had three sisters, and two brothers. In order, they all were Michael, Elizabeth, Esme, Thomas, Florence, and Margaret. They weren’t very far apart in age, excluding a three year gap between Esme and Thomas, and often relied on one another. Esme wasn’t the eldest daughter, but she found herself trailing after her mother with each new baby that was born. Elizabeth hadn’t ever really liked the thought of babies. She preferred to sew herself beautiful new dresses with cloth Papa brought back from the city. Elizabeth took after their father in looks, and most people who had met her agreed that she was the prettiest of the three. Her hair was flaxen, and she had Mama’s cheekbones and proud nose, but Papa’s warm hazel eyes. Her skin was fair, and freckled easily, which Esme thought was rather flattering, even if it vexed Beth to no end.
Michael was tall, and broad shouldered. Esme thought that must come from her Mama’s Papa, because her Papa was softer around the middle. She thought he was very handsome regardless of his tummy. Michael had tanned skin, light enough to pass as a white man, and Mama’s raven hair and twinkling brown eyes. He was very handsome, and all of the girls in town swooned whenever Michael would throw a wink or a smile their way. Emse thought he would make a wonderful father, if he would only settle down. He was good with his numbers, and was set to take over the family supply store when Papa decided to retire.
Esme thought that out of all of them, she had to be the ugliest. She had her mother’s eyes and hair, but she did not have her mother’s tall, graceful form. She was short, and round, like her father. She had been, ever since she was little. But her Mama told her she was beautiful, so she let it be. It wasn’t good to argue with one’s parents.
Thomas was next, and Esme vividly remembered the birth. Her Mama had not screamed, or wailed, even though the doctor thought she might have. He came out as blond and fair as father, and would grow into a willowy boy who loved books and horses more than school and chores. Esme doted on him, as did Mama, but father was always angry with Thomas and his schemes. Esme thought that Thomas might grow up to be an inventor, or perhaps cure an awful disease. Papa thought Thomas should spend more time at the Store, learning to help Michael.
Florence came next, when Thomas was nearly a year old. She was a squalling red mess, and had a temper from the very beginning. Flo was constantly getting into trouble, dirtying her dresses, and bringing wild animals into the home. Esme adored Florence, and often found herself chasing after her little sister, laughing breathlessly.
Margaret was still new, and only a few years old. She had Mama’s hair, and Papa’s eyes, and the temper of a faun. Esme loved to hold her, and found herself imagining sometimes that she’d have a baby like little Maggie one day. It was something she held close to her, because she knew that Papa would have a hard time finding her a suitable match. She looked far too much like her Indian mother, and that made her lesser in the eyes of the town. It broke her heart a little, to think that she would never have a baby of her own. But Esme made do, and promised that wherever her life took her, she would build a family of her own.