Page 74 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

It takes a minute for my brain to reboot, but then I’m hugging her fiercely, laughing and crying all at once. “Oh my gods, Mariah! You’re going to be a mom! I’m going to be an aunt! We’re having a baby!”

The Inn’s lobby blurs around me as happy tears flood my eyes. Graeme quietly excuses himself to let us enjoy the moment.

Mariah and I hobble out from behind her desk, still hugging, and collapse into the plush armchairs by the crackling hearth, laughing.

“But how are you pregnant already? Youjustgot married!” I blurt out, still struggling to wrap my head around it.

Has it really only been a couple of weeks since I watched Mariah walk down the aisle?

Mariah rolls her eyes. “Well, Ecco, this might be shocking to hear, but some people have sex before marriage.”

I swat at her, grinning. “Ha ha, yes, yes, very funny. So, you were pregnant at the wedding?”

Mariah nods, absently rubbing circles over her stomach.

“I’m about two months along. We already knew, but we didn’t want to take attention away from the big day. And I was planning to tell everyone right after...” She trails off. “Butthen the blizzard hit, and it just hasn’t felt like the right time. Everything’s been so chaotic.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand. Mariah has always been my rock, the one constant through struggling with my powers and getting over crappy exes and bouts of crippling self-doubt about my music. And now, on the threshold of this huge new chapter of her life, I want to be that for her.

I’m suddenly inundated with memories from our own childhoods. I remember the hours we used to spend playing house, setting up elaborate scenarios with our dolls and stuffed animals, begging Auntie Laurelle to enchant them to dance around, me of course making all of them sing and play instruments in a pop band together.

Sometimes we would pretend to be grown-ups with families of our own, our imaginary children growing up as close as siblings, their lives intertwined in every way.

“Remember how we used to talk about living next door to each other when we grew up?” I ask, my voice soft with nostalgia.

Mariah nods, her eyes shining with tears. “I remember. Our kids were going to be best friends, just like us. It seemed so simple back then, didn’t it? Like everything would just fall into place.”

I think about my life in the city, about the demands of my career and the distance that separates me from Elderberry Falls.

With a pang, I realize that I’m going to miss so many of the small moments, the everyday joys and challenges of Mariah’s pregnancy and motherhood.

My heart aches at the thought of not being there for the first kick, the first ultrasound, the first sleepless night. I’m going to be an aunt from afar, watching this new family member grow up through photos and video calls and brief visits home.

The pain of this realization is sharper than I expected, a knife twisting in my gut. Tears burn behind my eyes, and my throat is tight with a grief I can’t quite name.

I think about Elderberry Falls, about how it’s more than just a hometown to me. It’s a part of my soul, a place that has shaped me in ways I’m only beginning to understand. Leaving this place, again—leaving Mariah and the rest of our friends and my dad again—is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“I’m going to miss so much when I leave here, Mariah,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’m going to miss being here for you, for all of this.”

Mariah squeezes my hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “I know, Ecco. But you’re going to be an amazing auntie, no matter where you are. And we’ll make sure you’re a part of everything, even if it’s from a distance. You have your adoring fans to perform for, remember?”

I nod, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I just… I don’t want to miss a single moment. I want to be here for all of it.”

“And you will be,” Mariah says firmly. “Maybe not physically, but in every way that matters. We’re family, Ecco. That doesn’t change, no matter how far apart we are.”

I hug her tighter, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo, and shove down my sadness.

This is Mariah’s moment. I don’t want anything to cast a shadow over her joy.

The next morning,I trudge out alone to Deandra’s apartment building, ready to get some answers. After the weeks of Graeme by my side, it’s more than a little odd to be without him.

But I need to do this on my own.

I can’t believe Deandra’s kept this place all these years, when she barely comes back to Elderberry Falls these days. The off-white paint in the hallway is chipped and faded, and the carpeting threadbare. It’s a far cry from the cozy charm of my dad’s house or the Moonflower Inn.

It’s hard to stand here and not think of the disappointing visits with my mother once she finally returned to claim partial custody. I can almost hear the echoes of slammed doors and our raised voices.

Part of me wants to turn tail and run, to bury the hurt and confusion of the past and never look back.

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