BEFORE THE TIDE(6)
1111 Words
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Monica knocked firmly on the door, then stepped back as the group waited. Clara’s home, once grand, now carried a quiet elegance that hinted at past wealth. The large windows still held their decorative trim, though the paint was slightly worn. The front garden was neatly kept, but not as lush as it once had been; careful, restrained, but not neglected.
The door opened, and Mrs. White stood in the frame.
“Good morning, ma’am,” the girls chorused politely.
Her smile warmed instantly. “Girls, it’s so nice of you to come.” She stepped aside, ushering them into the modestly furnished living room, sunlight spilling softly through the lace curtains.
As the girls shuffled in, Mrs. White noticed the way Annalise and Monica lingered near the door instead of bounding up the stairs like they usually did. Their unease was plain, a guilty stiffness in their posture. She didn’t blame them, if anything, she pitied them. They had no idea how deep Clara’s fear ran, or what lay buried in her past. How could they? To them, it had been just another outing gone wrong. They didn’t see the shadows that still haunted her.
Breaking the silence, Mrs. White’s gaze softened as she turned to the new faces.
“And who do we have here?”
Miranda spoke quickly, her tone polite but steady. “Miranda Morvan.”
Something flickered in Mrs. White’s expression—recognition, or maybe just a memory tugging at the edge of her mind. Miranda reminded her of someone, though she couldn’t quite place it. Instead of pressing, she gave a small smile. “That’s a lovely name, dear.”
Her attention shifted.
“Elina Emberwing,” came the next reply.
Mrs. White’s brows lifted slightly. “Captain Keegan Emberwing’s daughter?”
Elina nodded, caught a little off guard.
Mrs. White’s face softened with warmth. “I haven’t seen you since you were little. You’ve grown into such a fine young lady.” She reached out, briefly embracing her before stepping back.
Finally, Beyoncé stepped forward with a confident grin. “Beyoncé Wesley.”
Mrs. White chuckled softly at her boldness. “What a beautiful name.”
Beyoncé beamed. “Thank you. And might I just say, you look absolutely stunning yourself, Mrs. White. I can see where Clara gets it.”
The unexpected compliment drew a genuine laugh from Mrs. White, who shook her head, amused. “Oh, you’re a charmer, aren’t you?”
She clasped her hands together, her smile softening again. “Clara is upstairs in her room. She’s been resting, but I think she’ll be glad to see you. Just remember, take it gently with her, alright?”
The girls nodded, murmuring thanks before heading toward the staircase, their footsteps careful against the polished wood.
Upstairs, the door creaked open, and Clara lifted her head from the pillow.
“Clara!” Beyoncé’s voice rang out first, bright and full of energy. She stepped inside with her usual flair. “We’re here!”
Clara pushed her pillow behind her back, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I see that.”
The others trickled in.
Miranda perched carefully at the edge of the bed, Annalise leaned against the desk, Monica dropped onto the side, Elina lingered by the window. Beyoncé breezed past them, setting a tripod down in the corner.
Clara’s brow lifted. “And… what exactly are you planning to do with that?”
Beyoncé flashed a grin. “Oh, nothing too crazy. Maybe a group picture. Maybe a little vlog. You’ll see.”
Clara rolled her eyes, though her smile widened. “Figures.”
Monica leaned forward slightly. “How are you feeling?”
Clara shrugged. “Better. Just tired, that’s all.”
“Good,” Beyoncé cut in, winking. “Because we’re not here to treat you like some fragile doll.”
“I never asked to be treated like one,” Clara muttered, though she was smiling.
A small pause settled. Clara glanced between them, then tilted her head.
“So… how was training yesterday?”
Monica’s lips parted, then faltered. “We...uh, no. We skipped.”
Clara raised an eyebrow. “Skipped? Won’t Coach Humphrey lose his mind if you miss too many?”
Monica gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, he probably will. Especially after...” She stopped abruptly, the words drying up.
Annalise shifted sharply, giving her a warning look. Elina turned her gaze out the window, and Miranda fiddled with her hands. Even Beyoncé stayed uncharacteristically quiet, adjusting her tripod instead of speaking.
Clara’s smile thinned as she studied them. “… After what?”
Monica waved her hand quickly, forcing a lighter tone. “After last week’s drills. He nearly drowned us in laps.”
Clara’s shoulders eased, but her eyes lingered on them, searching for what they weren’t saying.
At that moment, a soft knock came at the door. Mrs. White stepped in, carrying a tray with cookies and fresh glasses of orange juice.
“I thought you girls might want a little something while you talk,” she said, setting the tray on Clara’s desk.
“Mrs. White, you’re amazing,” Beyoncé declared dramatically, already reaching for a cookie.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the others chimed in politely.
Mrs. White gave her daughter’s hair a gentle pat. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the group, catching a flicker of unease in their smiles. But she said nothing and quietly stepped out.
Beyoncé clapped her hands, snatching up her tripod. “Okay...group photo time!”
Clara groaned. “Beyoncé…”
“No arguments,” she sang, busying herself with setting the tripod. “Smile for Queen Bey.”
As the girls shifted into place, Monica’s phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at the caller ID, her expression tightening, and hit decline.
Beyoncé’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the third time you’ve dodged that call. Who is that? Is someone bothering you?”
Monica hesitated before sighing. “It’s Maxwell. I… missed our date the other day. I don’t know how to explain everything.”
Beyoncé crossed her arms. “Girl, I told you yesterday...just text him. He deserves to hear from you.”
Monica looked down, chewing her lip. “I know. I just… don’t know what to say.”
On the bed, Miranda reached quietly for Clara’s hand, her fingers curling around it as if to steady both of them. Clara glanced at her but didn’t pull away.
Beyoncé clapped again, breaking the tension. “Alright, enough drama! Everyone in, big smiles.”
The shutter clicked.
And for the first time since everything happened, Clara smiled.
- Writer
