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chapter seven a sense of belonging
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It isn't every morning that Rue finds herself alone. She stands in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes she's discovered in her father's notebook.
He gave it to her before he left for work, an old, brown leather book in his hands when he stepped down the stairs. Rue stared at it curiously, and he immediately handed it to her. "In case you get bored of making the same seven meals," he said.
Rue took it in her hands, feeling the weight of the book, the texture of the peeling leather, and she opened it, her fingers brushing over old pages, her eyes scanning through neat cursive handwriting and old dates marked at the top of the pages that were from before she was born.
For a split second, Rue would have guessed the notebook was her mother's, but she noticed the handwriting wasn't the same. The thought of Emilia had startled her to look up at her father, who smiled at her warmly.
"It was your grandmother's," he told her, "I noticed you have similar interests. At least from what I can remember. I thought you'd probably like... I dunno." Her father's voice dropped, suddenly stopping mid-sentence into an unsure mutter.
A bright smile broke into Rue's mouth, and she held the notebook close to her heart. "Thank you. I... thank you." There's more meaning to her words if you look her in the eyes. Great gratitude glows within the green as she thanks the man before her for more than just the notebook. She thanks him for coming back into her life, she thanks him for filling that empty space she's carried in her soul since the night he'd left.
