With the sudden disappearance of her husband, the loss of her two sons and her mother, Jessica Kent and her daughter Isobel move back home to Smallville with her brother Clark. As they settle into their new life, Jessica and Isobel discover secrets...
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As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, I found myself in a familiar predicament. While the rest of the household slumbered on, I decided that since the sun was up, I was up. My every move seemed magnified, especially as I attempted to move myself from the warmth of the covers without waking up Bruce.
His arm draped across my waist, holding me in an embrace. I knew I could easily slip away from his grasp, but where was the fun in that? The morning held a sense of untapped potential, much like the unwritten pages of a story waiting to be told. I gazed out the window, where the world was bathed in soft hues of pink and gold. It was a canvas of possibilities, and I couldn't resist its call.
Carefully, I wiggled free from Bruce's grasp, feeling the warmth of his hand slip away as I inched out of bed. His brow furrowed ever so slightly in his sleep, as if sensing my leave. A small smile tugged at my lips, knowing he'd forgive my early escape.
Clad in my oversized MU sweatshirt and my, according to my kids, ancient pajama pants, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes with a wide yawn. All I could think about was grabbing a steaming cup of coffee and a bagel, a perfect start to a lazy morning. However, my plans took a sharp left turn the moment I shuffled into the kitchen.
There, to my utter bewilderment, stood Isobel. But it wasn't her presence that sent my jaw dropping – it was the scene that unfolded before me. She held a jar of pickles in one hand, guzzling down pickle juice like her life depended on it.
But what truly left me speechless was the sight of a tiger cub nestled in her other arm.
A TIGER CUB???
"Um... honey?" I called out, my voice laced with confusion and disbelief.
She nearly jumped out of her skin, turning to face me with a sheepish grin. "Hey, Mom..."
My eyes darted between the jar in her pickle-juice-smeared hand and the striped cub she cradled like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Whatcha got there?" I asked, trying to wrap my mind around this bizarre situation.
She blinked, looking down at the jar with a puzzled expression, as if the tiger cub wasn't even worth mentioning. "Pickles?"
I couldn't help but chuckle at Isobel's nonchalant response. My daughter had always been one for quirky surprises, but this had taken the cake, or should I say, the pickle jar.
I approached her slowly, my curiosity piqued, and peered into the jar as if expecting answers to magically appear amidst the briny liquid. "That's quite a breakfast choice," I remarked, my gaze shifting from the jar to the bewildering presence of the tiger cub.
Isobel shifted the cub to her other arm, cradling it as though it were a cherished pet. "Yeah, well, you know how I've always loved pickles," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
I couldn't argue with that. Isobel's quirks had always painted her as the enigmatic character in the story of our family. "You know what," I sighed, half amused and half concerned, "you can explain to your father why there's a tiger in the house."
