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Fitz could hear them from the doorway, the three children and Daisy. Well, the two actual children, Deke, and Daisy. They were sitting in the living room under the canopy of a large bedsheet and multiple tartan blankets. Daisy, Deke, and the two little Fitz-Simmons children had spent the entire afternoon building the giant fort, the end result being the most elaborate fort Fitz had ever witnessed. It spanned the entire living room, even incorporating the diamond-paned window as the focal point, and was lit up by Christmas lights they had pulled out from the tiny attic. Jemma had also put a candle on so the whole house smelled of apple cinnamon and glowed in the warmth of shaded lamps and fairy lights. It was like autumn magic had touched the cottage if, of course, there was such a thing as magic.
“What are you doing?” Jemma whispered, appearing at Fitz’s shoulder and making him jump. She smiled when he folded over with his hands on his knees, muttering a soft apology as she laid her hand on his arm. Fitz, straightening up and flattening against the wall once more, quickly put a finger to his lips, scooting Jemma out of the line of sight into the living room with his arm.
From around the corner, they heard Daisy’s voice, hushed and dramatic as she told her story. “So, carefully, the woman walked further down the dark, creaking hall to the old cracked mirror and touched hands with her reflection. But this time, when her hand met the glass, it went right through. There she realized, she had been the ghost the whole time!” Daisy finished her story with a flourish, bent low to look into the eyes of the two children, her own glimmering, fairy-light-filled eyes narrowed with the suspense of the story.
Deke’s mouth was open as he took in the tale, aiding Daisy in building up the dramatics of the story by gasping sharply, his eyes shooting sideways the check the children’s reactions. The Fitz-Simmons children, however, gave the pair curious looks.
“But there’s no such thing as ghosts,” piped up James, blinking his blue eyes up at his Aunt. His eyebrows were knit together in confusion as he tried to order the story in his head, working through each point scientifically.
His sister gave a little tsk next to him. “It’s a story, James,” she commented crisply, rolling her own Fitz-colored eyes, “It was a very good one, Aunt Daisy.”
Daisy gave a little sitting bow, twirling her hand as her forehead hit the blanket and pillow littered floor. As she straightened back up to a sitting position, she flicked her hair up into the air like a mermaid coming out of the water, accidentally hitting Deke in the face and leaving him spluttering while simultaneously sending Maisie and James into a fit of giggles.
Finally detangling himself from Daisy’s brown and honey locks, Deke narrowed his eyes playfully, scrunching up his nose before diving to tickle the two kids, causing their giggles to erupt into loud bubbling laughter. From around the corner in the dim hallway, Jemma leaned against Fitz, her lips meeting his t-shirt covered shoulder as a blissful smile took over her face. At the light touch, Fitz closed his eyes and listened to his children’s laughter before turning to kiss Jemma’s hairline, glad their own ghost stories had been safely tucked away, distant memories of the past.