Chapter Text
Broxton, Oklahoma was the same mix of dull tans and browns she remembered. Not much had changed in the 13 years she’s been away and she could almost guarantee that it would still be recognizable in another 13 years. She passed the sign welcoming her to the small town, it was faded like everything else with an outdated population tacked on. The worn reds of the brick buildings greeted her warmly and she was glad to be back, if only for a short while.
People were milling about, no doubt preparing to gossip about her forrest green Mercedes driving straight through the center of the busy, small town. Memories of the years she spent during various parts of her childhood crept up on her as she passed the elementary school and the old cathedral standing tall. Its bells were ringing, reliably letting the town know it was four minutes to noon.
In the short time she was distracted by the buildings, the car in front of her slammed on its brake and she slammed on hers. Shit. The coffee she had gotten before leaving the city went flying, splashing all over the console and her seat. And to make matters worse, the ice patches on the road caused her car to slide into the car in front of her. She hadn’t been going that fast but she was following pretty close and the crunch of her car rang in her ears. Sylvie wrapped her hands around the wheel, knuckles white. She sighed in frustration, just another thing to add to the very long list of things she had to take care of. The eyes of the town were on her as she took some deep breaths. Now they definitely would be talking about her.
It had been nearing the end of November when Sylvie got the call that her namesake, her great-aunt, had passed away. There was very little fanfare, Sylvie was her only living relative and she, Sylvie’s. The arrangements were simple, her aunt had been an organized woman who had planned her end long before the time came. At her burial, a small affair that only consisted of Sylvie and a few neighbors and coworkers, Sylvie found herself static. No tears, no fuss, however, she was surprised when her grief reared its ugly head at the most harmless things days and weeks after. The dead leaves in the alleyway, the first snow of the year, a song from the 60’s that wormed its way onto the radio in Sylvie’s car. All of these very mundane images conjured old memories of her childhood.
While she and her aunt hadn’t seen eye to eye on many, actually most , things, the hollowness in her chest, put there years before, grew. She had long since given up trying to fill the void and instead fought to keep herself busy.
The woman driving the other car pulled off to the side and jumped out quickly. Her dark hair was in a ponytail that swished as she ran over to Sylvie’s window. It took Sylvie a second to get her window down.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but what the hell was that?” The woman to her credit looked sorry.
“I- there was a duck in the road.”
“A duck?” Sylvie deadpanned, unbuckling herself to get out of the car.
“What’d you expect me to do? Hit it?” When Sylvie didn’t respond, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so close behind me…” The woman added although it didn’t have any power behind it, not like Sylvie’s quick remarks. Sylvie rolled her eyes. They both saw the damage. While the woman’s car didn’t seem too bad, only a slight indent, the front of Sylvie’s car seemed to have folded on impact and only now noticed the engine was smoking. Shit. The other woman offered to call the local sheriff and the pair exchanged licenses and insurance. Sif. Sylvie started getting cold and looked around for a place to step inside while the two waited.
“So, I haven’t seen you around here before.” Sif attempted as they both sat on a bench inside the doors of the market.
Sylvie’s aunt left her the house, and Sylvie needed to pack it up and prepare it for prospective buyers. She had hoped to only spend a week or two on it and then get back to her normal life. There were nothing but ghosts left in the town to haunt her and now she was stuck dealing with this mess. Sif seemed kind, if not annoyingly overcaring about the wildlife in the town. Of course, Sylvie didn’t think she should have run the duck over, but she needed to be annoyed with someone and it was easier than being mad at herself for not paying closer attention.
“I’m just in town for the week.”
Sif waited for Sylvie to offer more. “I’m clearing out my aunt’s place.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Who’s your aunt?”
“Sylvie Lushton. She lived on the south shore, closer to the lake.”
“Oh, Ms. Lushton? I know her, well, knew her. She used to sell flowers down at the shop across town.”
“Yeah, that was her.”
“I saw her name in the paper last week, I’m sorry for your loss. She seemed like a nice woman.”
“She was.” Sylvie didn’t offer anything more and Sif had enough social awareness to keep herself from pushing. The sheriff arrived about an hour after the crash, reported the incident, and helped Sylvie call a tow truck. An hour after that, she was told her car wouldn’t be drivable for at least a few days while they ordered a new part for the engine. Sylvie let out a sigh and left her keys with the man. Sif, who had decided to go shopping, saw her at the bus stop and offered her a ride to her aunt’s house.
“It’s the least I could do.” She said, dropping Sylvie off after the car ride filled with Christmas music and occasional bursts of static. Sylvie thanked Sif and told her she’d keep her updated on the car and what the insurance said. Sif waited for Sylvie to carefully make her way up the icy steps, and fish through her purse for her aunt’s keys. She watched her fumble and drop said keys into the snow collected on the stoop and finally put her car in reverse when she saw Sylvie get the front door open. Sylvie didn’t turn back, her cheeks red from embarrassment.
The house was eerie and still, the smell of rotting flowers permeated the space. Nothing like she remembered. Stepping inside made her feel like a little girl again. Dust coated the rooms, a tell-tale sign of her aunt’s absence. She set down the small suitcase she had brought with her at the entrance and dug around the house, making a mental note of everything that needed to be done. She’d have to start with packing. Her aunt had been a great lover of knicknacks and there were several large curio cabinets displaying beautiful chinaware she had never once seen used. She would probably have to hire someone to help her move it out. She also made a note that everything would need a good cleaning.
The house seemed to creak and sigh as she moved through the rooms. There were two rotting lemons in the fridge and an old carton of expired milk that needed to be thrown out. The cabinets were filled with canned food and boxes of pasta. The dates were good, she added call local food pantry to her mental to-do list. She traveled to the second floor. Her aunt’s room was still as she remembered. Cavernous and cold, a bed against one wall and a dresser she had been given as a wedding gift. It was beautifully carved mahogany, with flowers etched into the sides. Her aunt’s jewelry was tucked away in one of the drawers, just as Sylvie remembered.
The bedroom down the hall had been hers for a short time. She had assumed that when she moved out, her aunt would convert it to another guest bedroom, but it stayed the same, used only once a year for the last 13 years. There were a few band posters on the wall, and her floral comforter was the same one from her childhood. Though they never were a pair for talking, Sylvie knew her aunt cleaned her room and sheets before her yearly visits. There were always fresh flowers on her nightstand.
The longer she was in the house, the heavier the grief pressed down on her. It hadn’t been much of a home after her mother passed, but it had been something to hold on to. And now it was gone too. In the garage, she was surprised to find her aunt’s old pickup. It was an icy blue she remembered from her childhood. While her aunt probably would have liked something different, the truck had been her husband’s. He passed shortly after Sylvie was born and her aunt couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. Sylvie found the keys on the hook inside the door. The engine roared to life and Sylvie was reminded of the hours spent learning to drive. While she liked her smaller car, there was nothing like the power of driving around in a pickup. She decided to head back into town, remembering her spilled coffee and the last time she had eaten which had been breakfast hours ago before hitting the road.
The cafe was packed with people bundled in winter coats with rosy cheeks, sipping on cups of cheer and chatting with old neighbors. Sylvie, along with the chill of the cold air, managed to quiet the room just long enough for the people to wonder who the stranger in town was. It was unlikely any of them would remember her from so long ago. Everyone returned to their conversations seconds later as she stepped up to order. Everyone aside from a tall man in a brown overcoat sitting at one of the tables, sipping occasionally from an oversized mug, couldn’t help but stare.
Though years had passed, she carried herself with the same guarded form, head high, arms pulled back as if prepared for battle at any moment. The same stoic expression graced her sharp features, the same twinkle only he could pinpoint caught the light reflecting off the snow outside. Sylvie . His breath caught, he nearly choked on the hot contents of his mug. He debated whether or not she had seen him and whether it’d be more or less awkward to pretend he hadn’t seen her. Oops, too late. Sylvie caught his eye and before he could look away, registered recognition softened her features just slightly. She stopped in her tracks, moving only seconds later after the barista had to call her name a third time. She broke eye contact and scurried towards the end to get her coffee. A peppermint mocha if Loki’s memory served him. She grabbed her coffee and he saw a flash of apprehension before she turned back his way. She’d have to walk past him to get to the exit.
Each of the short, deliberate steps she made to close the distance between them felt excruciating. He kept his eyes on her as she looked around self-consciously, trying to avoid his eyeline again. Finally, she stepped in front of the empty seat and offered a small, tight-lipped smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Loki winced at his inability to say anything else.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good. You?”
“I’m good. Great.” Silence. She knew he knew she was lying. She had a funny tell that she only began taking notice of when he had pointed it out the last time she had seen him. Her nose crinkled. At the time, Loki had made fun of her inability to lie, saying she looked like a bunny rabbit. She took it as a compliment.
“Why are you in–”
“It was nice–” She stopped herself. She was ready to get out of the coffee house but it seemed he felt the same awkwardness swirling between them and pressed forward against both their wishes.
“I’m uh, packing up my aunt’s house. She passed away a few weeks ago.”
“Oh yeah, I saw that. I’m sorry for your loss.” At this, Sylvie looked away. She was never keen on sincerity, especially not from the man with piercing blue eyes filled with sympathy for her.
“Thanks,” Sylvie replied. Loki nodded, seemingly waiting for her to say more. He knew how difficult her relationship with her aunt had been. “The house doesn’t feel the same.”
“I would imagine not. She was a… particular type of woman.” At this Sylvie let another small smile grace her lips, though that’s as far as it went.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Well, she liked me.” Loki grinned, proud of himself.
“She wouldn’t have if she knew everything .” Sylvie deadpanned. This had been a frequent source of conflict for the pair in their history. Her aunt, a very conservative woman, had been charmed along with half the town by Loki’s mischief. To her face, he was responsible and respectful, always called her ma'am and offered his help wherever she needed it. If she had known that he was just as attentive (in a different way of course) towards her niece, she would turn over in her grave. Sylvie shook her head, clearing away the memory.
“What’s the everything that you think she wouldn’t have approved of?” Loki asked innocently, causing a deep red blush to tinge the tips of Sylvie’s ears.
“You wouldn’t believe how much stuff I’m gonna have to pack away.” She said, changing the subject. Loki smiled. He remembered her great aunt’s love of figurines and decorative plates. The two returned to silence. She listened to the irregular ringing of the bell above the door announcing a few more patrons. The light sounds of Christmas music and town gossip whispered across steaming mugs jingled in her ears.
“Well, I’d better get going–”
“Do you need help?” Sylvie had started to move away from him when he hurriedly offered before he had the chance to talk himself out of it.
“You don’t have to, I’m sure I can manage it,” Sylvie said, but her tell-tale nose scrunch told him everything. She remembered the cabinets and the rest of the antique furniture that would be nearly impossible to move on her own.
“It’s fine, I’m not doing anything. I know how much your aunt…” He trailed off. Loki knew better than anyone how complicated Sylvie’s relationship with her aunt was, and now Sylvie would be spending this time of year all on her own.
“To tell the truth? That’d be great.”
“Okay, great.” Loki looked a bit surprised at her response. Sylvie wasn’t typically one to give in easily and he thought he would have to push her a bit more, he was glad he didn’t.
“Well, uh, I’m gonna go but thank you, do you wanna stop by tomorrow? Nine? I can pay you of course.” Loki wouldn’t take her money, they both knew, but if that’s what she needed to feel comfortable accepting his help, he wouldn’t fight it until the time came.
“I’ll see you then,” Loki gave her half a salute as he raised his drink. Sylvie turned, tight-lipped, and walked out of the crowded cafe, feeling his eyes on her through the tall glass front as she began walking back down the road.