My little girl

Breakfast was quiet that morning, and Madeline Munroe wished to heaven that Isobel had been home this morning, or Christian. Her two oldest children had been out of the house for some time now, but things were always lively when they came home for a visit. She wished, too, that Jake was home. Her middle son had also not lived at home in some time, and was actually visiting his uncle in Scotland, where he had gone to school. That left only Madeline, Jonathan and their youngest child. Ainsley was seventeen years old, and Maddie always smiled when she thought of how beautiful and talented her little girl had grown up to be. But then, that was the problem with this quiet breakfast this morning. Ainsley was growing up.

Jonathan was a late-night person, and he never really came to bed until the children were home. Isobel had nearly driven the poor man mad, as she loved to break the midnight curfew, though almost never intentionally. Inevitably, Christian would head out at 11:45, a wry grin on his face, to remind her that it was time to come home for the night, and shortly after midnight they would return, Isobel chagrined and apologetic. And even Christian had, on his own accord, broken curfew a few times. It was almost a rite of passage, and Jake had his own share of late nights, usually from studying with someone and forgetting to call or check his watch. Yet it seemed, that this one had bothered her husband more than all of the others, and Madeline thought that she knew why. While Jonathan loved the twins, they had a father, and he worried over them, and gave them all of that concern. Jonathan never really wanted to take that away from Morgan. Jake was his son, and he loved him immensely, as Jake was his firstborn, his pride and his joy. But, Jake could take care of himself, and Jon knew it.

But Ainsley, she was Jon’s little girl. There was a special bond between a man and his daughter, and Madeline knew that quite well. She herself was her father’s little princess, much as Isobel was Morgan’s. While she had never heard Jon call Ainsley ‘princess’ she knew that there was much of a similar bond between them. Ainsley just wasn’t a princess-y girl, nor was Jonathan the sort to call her that. In fact, they often didn’t say much of anything, with Ainsley’s quiet manner and Jonathan’s understanding of that. Often, Madeline would see the two of them sitting on the couch, Jon’s arm around Ainsley while they watched some programme or another. Sometimes, they simply took walks together, or played games. Theirs was a tight bond, and Ainsley always ran to her father first. That had to be the reason that this was hitting Jonathan so hard, though he wasn’t showing it.

Ainsley had not come home until well after one o’clock last night. Jonathan hadn’t been sleeping, of course, but he’d waited in the dark for her to say something. She hadn’t, and Jonathan had come to bed quietly, worrying Madeline a great deal. Even more unsettling for Madeline, had come when she’d gone into the girl’s room this morning with clean laundry. Brushing fondly at her sleeping daughter’s hair, she’d noticed the hickey on her neck. She hadn’t told Jonathan, but she knew that he suspected something of the sort. Which was why Madeline was anxious to see how the breakfast would play out, as she settled a plate of bacon next to the bowl of scrambled eggs, and the stack of toast. Her daughter still hadn’t come down to breakfast, though she could hear the slow footsteps upon the stair.

Ainsley came to the table, wearing an old turtle-neck sweater, her hair neatly braided, her brown eyes exhausted. She smiled thinly at her parents, and took her seat. Madeline held her breath while she waited to see what her husband would do. To her surprise, Jonathan said nothing. He merely set the newspaper to the side, and smiled at both girls.
“Good morning, Ainsley.”
Ainsley looked stunned, but then she paled and tried to smile back at her father, picking up her fork to toy with the eggs that her mother had dished onto the plate.
“Morning, Daddy.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and Madeline expected Jonathan to comment on it, but he didn’t. Instead he stood, and walked to the refrigerator.
“Ainsley, Mads, would either of you like some juice?”

Ainsley shook her head, not lifting her eyes from her plate, though she didn’t eat any of the food that she pushed about there. Madeline smiled reassuringly at her husband.
“I would, Jon.” Jonathan poured juice into two glasses, and returned to the table, setting one glass in front of his wife, and keeping the other for himself. Silence took the breakfast once more, and Madeline found herself squirming. She hated the awkwardness, hated that Ainsley was feeling so guilty that she couldn’t even look at her father. She was about to open her mouth and say something, but Jonathan caught her eye, and shook his head. Sighing softly, Madeline bit into her toast, chewing on it slowly.
“Ainsley?”

Both female looked at Jonathan, though Ainsley was much slower in doing so than her mother. When Ainsley met her father’s eyes, he paused for a long moment, letting their eyes remain locked before he pointed to the salt, sitting by her elbow.
“Pass the salt, please?” It was more than the girl could take, and she dropped her eyes, passing the salt to her father. Now, she refused to look at either of her parents for some time, and the table returned to the silence that Madeline dreaded so very much. Finally, the silence broke.
“DADDY, I’M SORRY!”

Startled, Madeline dropped her knife, and looked at her daughter. Ainsley rarely spoke, and when she did it was always done in such a quiet manner. Madeline couldn’t recall ever having heard her daughter use such a loud or forceful tone of voice. It was nearly a bellow, and it was accompanied by a torrent of tears. Her hands rose to cover her face, and she turned away from both of her parents.
“I-I-I didn’t m-mean to be out so late! I was j-just with Avery, and w-we lost track of time.”

A low sigh escaped Jonathan, and Madeline- halfway around the table to Ainsley, stopped. Jon moved from his seat, kneeling next to Ainsley’s chair as he had when she was a child, slowly wrapping his arms around his daughter. Madeline didn’t hear what was said between the two, because she decided to give them the time and space that they needed to restore their relationship. What she did know, was that when Jon returned to the kitchen to help her clean up, there was a smile on his face, and he was in a much better mood, evidenced by the way he stood behind her, slipping his arms around her waist, and pressing a soft kiss to her neck.