1,018A/N: Surprise. I'm back. :D
In honor of releasing a published version of this story, (still titled Second Chances by Alexandra Nicole, now available on amazon in both e-book and paperback version) I've decided to release the new chapter as a thank you to everyone who still loves and supports this story after so many years.
For several years, Emma had had a question: just what were all these crates in the basement?
It was a simple question, yet she had always been scared to ask. But no longer! It was her fifteenth birthday tomorrow. She was plenty old enough to know.
"Hey, Em!" a voice hollered from upstairs. "Where are you?"
… Or, she could gather the courage to ask her dad now. "Basement!"
She heard the drum of footsteps as her dad came down the stairs. "We didn't hide your presents down here this year, ya know."
"Oh, I know," she lamented. "Last time I found them, I was nine. I have no freaking clue where you've hidden them since."
Her dad shot her a fingergun. "Exactly the point."
She rolled her eyes at him. "However…"
That was all she got out before she hesitated.
No, no Emma. You've got this! "Question."
"Shoot."
She walked over to one of the many crates stacked up and drummed her fingers against the top of it. "I've always wanted to know what these are."
Her father's expression fell, which made her second guess asking.
Staring at the crates, he rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Em... you know how Mom was married before she married me?"
Although a rock settled in her gut, Emma nodded. She'd heard about it from Mimi and Papi. They'd shown her pictures of… well, technically, her step-mom, but Marinette would always just be "Mom" to Emma. And in those old pictures, there had been a red-headed guy that always seemed close to Mom. When Emma had asked, that's when Mimi confessed Mom had been married beforehand, and that guy had been her late husband.
It was weird to think about, considering Marinette had been in Emma's life for almost as long as she could remember. It was a lot to wrap her mind around. Emma always felt guilty for being thankful that Mom came to marry Dad, so she just shoved it into the back of her mind every time so as not to think about it.
"Well," Dad continued. "Her first husband was a painter. Those are all his paintings."
With wide eyes, Emma looked over the crates. All the crates. They were all paintings?
"It's been a while since they've been opened," Dad continued. "I bet if you asked, Mom would be willing to show you."
Emma hummed as she looked down at the crate in front of her. "Like… what kind of paintings are they? Do you know?"
He nodded. "They're… they're pretty cool. Saw them… dang, ten years ago now? Am I that old?"
"Yup."
At her quick retort, her dad pantomimed being stabbed through the heart. "Oh, oww. Daughters are ruthless."
Fighting a smile, Emma rolled her eyes. Her dad was so dramatic. It was so weird considering Grandfather and Grandmother were so… stoic. But then again, she hadn't ever met her biological grandmother—it was bizarre that all the women in her living family weren't related to her, but Emma just accepted it as her reality at this point—and she could have been where Dad got his theatrics.
That's when Mom's voice echoed down the stairs. "Adrien? Are you down there?"
"Oh, you're home early," Dad responded.
"Yeah. Managed to finish everything up in good time."
"Hey, come down a moment? Emma's got something to ask you."
Emma pursed her lips. Dad was really going to put her on the spot, wasn't he?
The sound of footsteps down the stairs grew louder as Mom came into view. "What's up, Em?"
Before she could ask, Dad gave Mom a quick kiss on the cheek, then he slipped up the stairs, Mom smiling at him all the while.
It was times like this that made it feel extra weird to think about Mom having a previous husband and Dad having a previous wife. To Emma, those were just her parents being her parents. The fact Mom wasn't actually her mom and her mom was actually someone else Emma had never met was too strange to comprehend.
Slowly, as Mom realized what Emma was standing by, her smile faded.
For the second time today, Emma almost regretted asking, but she'd come this far. No turning back now.
Wringing her hands together, Emma awkwardly motioned to the crates. "Dad said these are all paintings."
With a bittersweet smile, Mom nodded. "Yeah. They're from a long time ago."
Emma shuffled her feet against the dingy carpet, trying to find the words to say. "Dad also said if I asked, you might let me see them?"
Mom's breath caught, her eyes widening for a moment. But as she let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. "Okay. I… it's been so long. I've been thinking about looking through them again. But I should get dinner on the stove, so—"
"I've got dinner and the boys!" Dad called down. "Bond with Emma."
His words got both Emma and her mom to giggle, all previous tension easing away.
"Well, I guess that settles that." Mom then came forward toward the box Emma stood by. With a dazed fondness in her eyes, she rested her hands over the crate. Carefully, Mom took the lid off the crate, then began taking the paintings out one by one to show her.
Dad had described them as cool, and as Emma looked over the pieces, she had to agree. They were like those paintings that would be in the old part of an art museum but with superheroes. All the while, Mom told Emma about the subjects of the paintings, most of them her friends from the past, and why they were painted the way they were.
Emma would say she found the most joy in the paintings of people she recognized. Auntie Alya, Uncle Nino, and even Miss Sabrina.
Then came one that made Emma… uncomfortable.
"This is your mom."
As Emma stared at the painting of a blonde woman staring down from a throne of gold, she crossed her arms in front of her as an unsettling feeling twisted her gut. Because that woman there faintly reminded Emma of how she looked, but that woman also looked so haughty and arrogant that Emma felt herself shrinking under that sharp gaze. However, that wasn't the most disconcerting thing.
She just couldn't wrap her head around the fact that was her mom.
Certainly, she had seen pictures of her mom before, and there had been plenty of times her family commented that she looked quite a bit like her. But for Mom to say that woman was her mom…
Siding up to Mom, Emma wrapped her arms around her.
Though Mom tensed for a second, she gently set the picture down and wrapped her arms around Emma. "What's wrong?"
"You're my mom."
Mom sighed, relaxing into the embrace before squeezing Emma tight. "I'm not officially your birth mother. I'm just the only mom you've known."
"That's okay with me."
Mom didn't answer, but no words needed to be said as she continued to hug Emma.
"Thanks for being my mom."
Pulling away from the embrace, Mom stroked Emma's hair, smiling all the while. "Thank you for being my daughter. I love you very much."
"I love you, too."
"Hey, Aunt Alya," Emma began over the bustle of the busy cafe. All these years, and she hadn't gotten tired of the food, but maybe that's because her grandparents' restaurant just tasted like home to her now. "You know how Mom has all those paintings in crates?"
Her aunt nodded. "Yeah. What about them?"
"It's kinda weird they're all in crates. Like, don't artists put their stuff online to see? They're just kinda… there."
Aunt Alya hummed in understanding. "Back in the day, your mom was trying to get Nathaniel—er, your mom's first husband—to show his stuff in a gallery. He could have done it."
"Why didn't he?"
She shrugged. "Beats me. I still think it's a shame. It would be cool for those images to see the light of day. Especially to show off to all our friends. I bet they'd love to see them again."
Absently, Emma stirred her soup as the gears in her mind turned. "Could you convince Mom to do it?"
Sandwich halfway to her mouth, Aunt Alya froze. "I don't know," she said, setting it down. Slowly, a mischievous smile crept across her lips. "But… I have the sudden urge to be a really bad friend. Is your dad at work today?"
"No, he's at home. Mom's at work today."
"Even better."
Emma had never kept such a big secret from her mom. It was extremely difficult to keep her mouth shut, but considering just how many others were in on this secret, she was determined not to be the weak link in this chain.
Thankfully, that would end tonight. Dad had successfully dressed the family up, first by telling Mom that they were going to a surprise at a classy place tonight. Dad then managed to get Emma's younger brothers into matching button-down shirts and even clip-on ties, convincing them that doing so would make Mom happy. Emma had to admit that her little brothers, who were growing fast for being nine and seven, were adorable all dressed up.
Currently, they were driving through downtown, with Dad and Mom trying to find a parking spot.
"Just where are we going?" Mom wondered, looking around.
"I wanna know, too!" Hugo chimed in.
"You'll find out soon, Bud," Dad assured. "It's something very special for Mom."
"See, now I'm twice as curious," Mom muttered.
"It's really cool, Mom," Emma piped up. "I hope you like it."
"Oh, so you're in on this, too?" she asked, leveling a quizzical look at Emma.
Feeling the pressure, Emma struggled to keep her smile from faltering. "Yup. But don't pressure me any more because I'm about to explode."
"I'm not sure if that should make me happy or worried."
"Happy," Dad answered. "I have the feeling you'll love it."
They eventually managed to find a spot, then all disembarked to walk through the streets. Dad led the way, Hugo and Louis on either side of him. Mom followed behind with Emma at her side.
"Do I get a little hint?" Mom questioned.
"It's somewhere close."
Mom rolled her eyes, which, with an answer like that, Emma had fully expected.
After one more block, Dad stopped in front of a deceptively small shopfront. "We're here."
Emma bit her lip to temper her smile as she watched for her mom's reaction.
Mom's brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at the sign. "An art gallery?"
"We're here to look at pictures?" Hugo lamented. Louis didn't seem too keen on the idea, either.
"Yes, but they're very special pictures that your mom loves."
Which only served to confuse Mom more.
If they didn't get inside soon, Emma felt like she might burst. As it was, she was already bouncing on her toes like they were springs.
That's when Uncle Nino came to the door, pushing it open before Dad could open it. "Are you going to stand there forever?" he asked.
Mom's eyes narrowed at him. "You're in on this, too?"
"For sure," he said with a beaming grin. "Actually, I'm the one who made it happen, so if anyone dies tonight, it's me."
Mom's gaze somehow grew sharper as she placed her hands on her hips, and the summer evening suddenly carried a chill. "What did you do?" she growled.
"Only something that should have been done a long time ago." With that, Uncle Nino grabbed Mom's hands and pulled her inside.
Chuckling, Dad pushed Hugo and Louis inside after Mom. Then he motioned for Emma to head inside, and they shared a subtle fist pound as she passed by him.
"Oh, you are kidding me!"
Her mom's cry might have been heard outside even with the door shut. She whipped around to face Emma and Dad, her hands over her mouth while tears began forming in her wide eyes.
Dad grinned as he approached her and wrapped her up in a hug. "Pretty cool, isn't it?"
"They're superheroes!" Louis cried, pointing at the paintings.
"Cool!" Hugo agreed. And just like that, they scampered towards the closest painting to marvel over it.
Which was great because Mom was currently crying, and Emma knew her brothers would freak if they saw.
"You okay?" Dad whispered, rubbing her mom's shoulders.
Silently, she nodded as she looked over the room, taking in all the artwork that had been framed and hung on display.
Uncle Nino rubbed Mom's back in support, too. As much as Emma wanted to give Mom a hug, she would wait her turn and keep an eye on the boys. Not that they needed her to keep an eye on them seeing as Aunt Alya was doing just that.
"Do you like it?" Emma tentatively asked.
Nodding, her mom stepped up to Emma with open arms, and Emma gladly hugged her back.
"You helped?" Mom asked, voice warbly with tears.
"I… kinda started Aunt Alya on the idea trail that lead to it," she admitted.
Her mom chuckled. "Thank you."
With those two little words, all the worry Emma had stuffed away for weeks on end disappeared.
As her mom pulled away, she looked over the gallery again. "I cannot believe you pulled this off under my nose."
"It was a challenge," Dad said, "but I thought it was a great idea. I had Father and Nathalie stall you long enough to sneak the boxes out of the house."
Mom huffed, tossing her head back as she rolled her eyes. "Is there anyone who wasn't in on it?"
"The boys," Dad returned.
"So my parents were in on it, too?"
"Yeah," Uncle Nino confirmed. "They helped send out all the invitations for the event."
At that, her mom's expression pinched with confusion as she glared at Uncle Nino. "What invitations?"
"The ones inviting all our school friends to this showing."
Blinking in shock, Mom's jaw hung open, no words coming out.
Chuckling, he gave her shoulder a bump with his fist. "Better pull it together because we have a full house tonight."
It took a moment for Mom to form a response. "I. Cannot. Believe. You."
Uncle Nino just grinned like a fiend. "You are so welcome."
Over the next twenty minutes or so, a barrage of Mom's old friends entered the gallery. Mom had to introduce many of them to Dad and Emma, who had stayed close by. Louis and Hugo were now being attended to by Mimi and Papi, who had promised to take them out around town later to keep them entertained for the evening. If Emma had to guess, they'd do so after the official introduction she and Uncle Nino had planned.
"Can I have your attention, please?"
Standing on a small platform in the middle of the now crowded gallery, Uncle Nino started speaking, and Emma took it as her cue to join him. She weaseled her way through the crowd to hop up on the platform right beside him. Only then did he start his speech.
"Thank you all for coming tonight. I see many familiar faces here, so while I doubt I need to introduce myself, I will anyway. I'm Nino, organizer of this event and a friend of the late Nathaniel Kurtzburg."
"I, on the other hand," Emma began, looking over the crowd, "should introduce myself because I do not recognize many of the faces here tonight."
At that, a chuckle rumbled through the crowd.
"My name is Emma, co-organizer of this wonderful event. Sadly, I never got the chance to meet Mr. Kurtzburg, but he is the late husband of my stepmom, for whom we organized this event tonight."
As Emma motioned towards her mom in the crowd, Mom returned her smile, laying a hand over her heart while the crowd around her cheered.
"We are so happy to have you all here this evening," Nino spoke. "Thank you for coming, and we hope you enjoy this showing of the late Nathaniel Kurtzburg incredible paintings, ones that portray many people in attendance now in a more fantastical reality and likely evoke memories of the past."
"For those who, like me, are new to these works," Emma continued. "We hope that you will be able to admire the artistic ability and unique vision of an incredible artist. Each piece holds its own unique story, and we wish to share those with you. There are a couple people throughout the room who will all be wearing special lanyards—" At this, she lifted up the colorful lanyard around her neck with an artist palette charm on the bottom. Nino waved his around as well. "—that are ready and able to explain the art in further detail, so please feel free to ask."
"Thank you again for coming," Nino concluded. "We hope you'll enjoy the exhibit."
The crowd applauded as they stepped off their platform.
"Good job," Uncle Nino whispered.
"Thanks," Emma returned.
After giving Emma a pat on the back, he removed the small platform from the floor, setting it out of the way of guests. Emma, for her part, returned to her parents.
Her mom was misty-eyed but smiling proudly. "You did a great job."
"Thanks, Mom."
"One question, though."
"Yeah?"
She pointed to the lanyard around Emma's neck. "Do I get one of those lanyards?"
In response, Dad pulled one from his pants pocket to hand to her.
Shooting him a smile, she took it. "Good grief, it would be downright embarrassing if I couldn't speak the most on these."
Watching her mom sling the lanyard around her neck, Emma couldn't help but be relieved. She'd been worried Mom might be overwhelmed tonight, but instead, Mom seemed eager to join. "We wanted to get your opinions on each piece so we could be better prepared, but spoiling the surprise was out of the question."
Placing her hands on her hips, Mom shook her head at Emma, but she couldn't completely hide her smile. "What am I going to do with you?"
There was no need to answer that question with anything other than a smile and a shrug.
That's when Mimi and Papi appeared. "We'll take Hugo and Louis out for a treat so they don't get antsy," Mimi said. "And if the event runs late, we'll take them home. They can have a sleepover."
"Sleepover!" the boys shouted, throwing their fists in the air.
Papi laughed. "Or we can just call it now."
"Thanks, Papa," Mom said, giving him a side hug.
"No prob, Sweetie. We're always glad to take them. We figured we'd let you enjoy the night."
"By the way," Mimi added, grinning as she pointed behind them. "Did you see who's here?"
Mom looked over to where Mimi was pointing, only for her to gasp and flail her hands. "Oh my gosh. Okay, excuse me! Bye, love you!" With that, she scampered off.
Mimi chuckled. "Nathaniel's parents," she quietly explained.
Dad just nodded in understanding. "Thought I recognized them."
Emma, who had been looking the direction that Mom took off in, turned back to Dad in confusion. "You know them?"
"I got to meet them on a couple of occasions," he easily answered. "They're very nice people."
It seemed a little weird to Emma that Dad would know them, but Emma just shook it off as something she didn't understand.
"Emma."
At Papi calling her name, she turned towards him.
With a beaming smile, he gave her shoulder an encouraging pat. "You did a great job helping and hosting tonight."
Next to him, Mimi smiled. "Agreed. You did a wonderful job."
Emma felt herself preen under the praise. "Thank you, but seeing as I am one of the hosts, I suppose I should be walking around."
"You'll do great," Mimi encouraged. "Did you learn about the pictures from Nino?"
From a pocket in her dress—Mom had thought of everything when she had made it for her last year—Emma pulled out a little notebook. "Yup. I've memorized everything. And I have even more written down here in case of an emergency."
"Someone was very well prepared," Dad commented.
"We can tell," Mimi agreed. "Well, then best of luck. Have fun tonight. We'll take the boys."
"Thanks, Sabine," Dad said. "Really appreciate it."
"No problem," she said.
After waving goodbye to her grandparents, Emma started walking around the gallery, watching as people observed and chatted about the artwork with various expressions.
Throughout the night, she got to meet a ton of people. Some asked her about the paintings, but many of them were more informed than she was. She even had the honor of meeting several of the subjects of the paintings, including the cupid, the clocktower girl, the stone monster, and the alien hunter. They were all so kind to her, gladly telling her about the paintings and the stories behind them in more detail than she knew. While thrilled and honored to learn so much, it made her feel even more conflicted towards the artist of the night. It was hard to rationalize how happy she was that Mom had become her mom when the cost was that someone so kind and creative had to leave this world.
It was a heavy topic to put on the heart of a fifteen-year-old girl.
Nevertheless, Emma made it through the night with a smile. As the gallery began to empty, she found herself continually drawn to one piece in particular. There, in black and gold, sat a rendition of her mother, a woman that had been hated by most of the people Emma had met tonight. Yet, despite so many knowing Emma was this woman's daughter, they never treated her with anything other than genuine kindness.
"What are you thinking about?"
Emma turned to see Miss Sabrina siding up next to her. Unsure how to answer, she shrugged and turned back to the painting.
With a sigh of understanding, Sabrina turned back to the painting as well. "It's a little odd for me to see. I hadn't realized Nathaniel had painted her picture considering… everything."
The ball of lead in Emma's gut only grew. "Was… er... my biological mother that mean?"
Sabrina cringed. "I wish I could lie, but I'll be truthful with you. I'm ashamed to admit I wasn't much better."
Which only made things more strange to Emma. To her, Miss Sabrina had been nothing but kind. Awkward, sure, but kind all the same.
Biting her lip, Emma looked back at the picture. It felt… wrong to ask so many of the questions she had. But then again, Sabrina had always been honest and patient. "Do you think I would have been like that, too?" Emma hesitantly asked. "If she hadn't died?"
Sabrina paused, her lips pursed in thought. "I can't say," she finally answered. "Who knows what Chloe would have been like had she not passed, or how you would have been raised. I might have been her close friend, but I can't speak for her or how she would have changed after you were born. I don't want to make assumptions just to give you an answer, but beyond that, there's no point to that answer. We can't change the past. We can only live on in its wake. Speculation will only lead you down dark paths. I would know."
The sadness in Sabrina's tone hung heavily in the air. So heavily that Emma almost didn't want to ask the next question. But the weight in her heart was heavier than that of the silence. "Is it mean… to be glad she died so I can have Mom?"
The bluntness of the question caught Sabrina off-guard, but ultimately, she shook her head. "I'm going to guess you're not glad she died, per se. You're just thankful to have Marinette as your mom?"
Emma nodded.
"It's not mean," Sabrina assured. "Your life just happened to turn out this way, and you're thankful for it. Yes, sad things happened to get to this point, but it's not wrong to be thankful for what you have now. If those sad things never happened, you never would have known this life. You would have lived your other life believing that was just the way things were. I highly doubt you ever would have wished for your mom—that is, Chloe—to die in that hypothetical life. Nor would you have ever wished for Marinette's husband to die. Being thankful for how your life turned out is not the same as being happy about the tragedies that happened that led to your life being the way it is."
Paired with Sabrina's encouraging smile, her words brought a sense of peace to Emma's stormy mind. The weight on her heart eased with it. Not all the way, but enough to relieve the suffocation.
"If you want a piece of unsolicited advice," Sabrina continued. "I'd do what I could to escape the 'what if?' rabbit hole as soon as you can. It's a heavy weight to put on anyone. That might sound like some flippant life advice from an adult, but it's a lesson I wish I could have learned sooner."
Those words somehow held both sadness and hope, and they stuck to Emma's heart. "Even if you feel guilty for shoving those thoughts away because they're too confusing?"
"It's not always bad to shove away feelings like that. It's admirable to face your feelings head-on, but deciding not to engage in a downward spiral is something most adults still need to learn. So don't feel guilty. I'd say let that weight go and learn how to love what you have. Maybe it deserves so much love because of the cost it came at."
Nodding, Emma turned back to the painting of her mother. Suddenly, it didn't feel so intimidating to look at, nor was the storm in her mind as dark as it had been. "Thanks, Miss Sabrina."
She smiled. "I can't speak for Chloe, but I can speak for me. I'm quite proud of the woman I see you becoming. I hope you continue to grow up as wonderfully as you are."
Bashfully, Emma bit back a grin. "Thanks."
"Emma," Mom called as she approached. "It's time to head out."
Briefly looking around, Emma realized there were only a few stragglers left in the gallery, and they were all making their way toward the door. "Oh."
"What's got you so lost in thought?" Mom asked, glancing at the painting of Chloe.
Before she could answer, Emma felt a little pat on her shoulder. Turning to the side, she saw Sabrina give her a smile and a wink. "I'll head out, now. Thanks for all your hard work, Emma. You did a great job."
Emma beamed. "Thanks, Miss Sabrina. I'll see you later."
"See you. You have a good evening, too," Sabrina said, smiling at Mom.
Mom returned the gesture. "You, too."
With that, Sabrina headed towards the door, only to get stopped by Dad for a short conversation of their own.
Turning back to Mom, Emma smiled, but when she couldn't find anything to say, she gave her mom a hug.
Mom accepted it easily.
"Thanks for being my mom," Emma said.
"Of course. What brought that on?"
"Nothing," she dismissed. "Just… thankful to have you."
With a sigh, Mom squeezed her tight. "I'm thankful for you, too."
"Best mom in the whole wide world."
Mom giggled. "Best daughter in the whole wide world."