Avery
“Avery.”
Her voice didn’t sound the same. Elsa’s sweet intonations had vanished, replaced by a hard bitten, bitter woman with no forgiveness within her. I winced and took the phone away from my ear to glance at it in confusion. I’d taken a couple of days to ready myself for the inevitable phone call, and now wished I hadn’t bothered to call her at all.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I just did. Are you going to contest the divorce?”
“Hey, thanks for asking. I’m fine,” I said, sardonic. “Declan is good, too, growing fast. How are you doing these days?”
“Cut the crap,” Elsa growled. “I need you to sign the papers so I can move on.”
“I thought you already had,” I remarked. “Gone in sixty seconds. Remember?”
“You know why I left,” she snapped. “Because of what you are. And Declan is just like you. A monster .”
My instant fury sent my hands to a fit of trembling. I gripped my cell hard as I leaned forward over my desk as though getting into her face. “Watch what you say about him, dear . He’s our son and a beautiful boy. I did what I did to save your life, Elsa. Yours and his. Call him a monster again and you’ll see the real me. Again.”
“This is why I ran away,” Elsa all but shrieked. “Because you’re dangerous. You’ll teach Declan to be a murderer. Just like you.”
“You don’t know anything of the kind,” I replied. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain, to show you how much I loved you. That’s your loss, sweetheart. We’re better off without you.”
“Kiss my ass, you freak.”
“Bare it.”
I listened to her suck in a deep breath, calming her runaway emotions. I rubbed my eyes, thinking of the love and happiness we once shared. The day Declan was born, our joy soared to the clouds and beyond. I suppose she’d have someday discovered what I truly was, what I’d passed to our son in my genes. When that day finally came, it involved death and violence.
“Just sign the papers,” she said, her tone bitter, but composed. “I want to marry again.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“None of your business.”
“Send them along,” I told her wearily.
Elsa said nothing, but I heard the faint tapping of computer keys. “They’re sent to your e-mail,” she said at length.
I opened my e-mail. “Got them. I’ll read the documents over and get it back to you.”
“Asap,” she snapped, and clicked off.
I set my cell down with a sigh and opened the document. A simple, legal form that dissolved our once happy marriage. Within it, Elsa agreed to not contest my full custody of Declan, to not demand alimony or any support, that any goods or property we shared were now mine. I examined it for any loopholes and found none.
After signing and initialing, I hit the send button. “There you go, my now ex-wife,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair. “Loads of best wishes in your life with the new man.”
A strange emptiness surrounded my heart. As though a part of me had hoped Elsa would come back one day and now that hope was gone. Intellectually, I knew a long time ago she’d never return. Her terror of both Declan and me went far too deep for that. My heart hoped my mind was wrong.
I rubbed my eyes again. “Oh, well. Life’s a bitch, then you die.”
***
A free man, I confess I started looking at Jacy in a new light.
As though my promise to protect her brought a fresh freedom to her spirit, she smiled and laughed without hindrance, her love for Declan shining in her brilliant, green eyes. Days had passed since her fears had her packing her belongings, and in those days I witnessed a new Jacy.
“Dad.”
In unrepressed excitement, Declan slurped his milk from his plastic cup, his enchiladas only half eaten. He gazed at me, grinning widely, then shot a quick look toward Jacy. Jacy kept her eyes on her meal, yet I suspected a conspiracy at hand.
“Yeah?”
“Jacy saw an ad today,” Declan went on. “For kittens.”
I blinked. “Kittens?”
“Baby cats,” Declan explained as though to an idiot. “Can we get one? Dad? Please?”
I eyed Jacy sidelong. “Why kittens?”
“Easier than puppies,” she replied. “They poop in a box, don’t chew your shoes.”
“And claw my furniture to shreds.” I sighed. “Besides, we have Max.”
I glanced at Max, lying on the floor on his back with all four paws in the air. I sighed again.
“Daaad.” Declan’s long protest told me just how much he wanted this to happen. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”
“Pets teach kids responsibility,” Jacy murmured into her enchilada. “Max is more your dog than Declan’s.”
“I’ll clean the box every day,” Declan promised. “And feed it. I’ll make it not claw the furniture, too.”
“Thanks for implanting this into my kid’s mind,” I muttered from the side of my mouth.
“You’re welcome.”
“Daaad.”
“Somehow I feel I’m outnumbered,” I commented. “Are we talking about a single kitten?”
“These are brother and sister,” Jacy replied. “A bonded pair. The owners are asking they stay together.”
“Ai-yi-yi.” I shook my head. “I don’t know jack about cats.”
“You can learn. Along with Declan.”
I glowered into Declan’s happy and hopeful face. “You make sure they don’t scratch the crap outta my sofa.”
***
The kittens were nearly identical gray tabbies. Declan named them Peter and Wendy after he saw the Disney classic Peter Pan. How they bonded with him, and primarily him, remained a mystery to me. Jacy told me they followed him everywhere, sat on the tub’s side while he bathed, and I witnessed for myself how they slept with him every night.
Max, that big brave mutt, was terrified of them. When first introduced, the kittens puffed up like outraged porcupines, hissing and growling. Max yipped in horror, and jumped onto the sofa, trying to hide in the pillows. I rolled my eyes.
“They aren’t any bigger than his paw,” I grumbled. “Jeez.”
Jacy laughed. “Give them time. In days, they’ll be inseparable.”
Still, time passed, and Max avoided the pair as though they were mini tigers ready to yank his guts from his belly and eat them.
Being kittens, of course, they tore through the house like mini tornados, climbed the curtains, wrestled with each other, quarreled over toys, got onto the kitchen table and counters, cried for snacks from the dinner table.
“I don’t like them on the counter,” I objected.
“I’ll keep it clean, Dad,” Declan said, eager. “Jacy says it’s hard to keep them off things.”
“You can try,” Jacy added with a shrug. “But cats are cats. They do their own thing.”
“Just use a good cleaner on the table and counters before you fix a meal,” I growled. “I really don’t want kitty germs in my dinner.”
Jacy snorted laughter.
Wendy and Peter sat on the counter, staring at us hopefully as we ate our meal. Jacy cut up small pieces of leftover chicken for them, explaining to Declan what was good for cats and what wasn’t. I watched in disbelief as the kittens were spoiled rotten in front of my very eyes.
“Now they’ll never eat their own chow,” I complained.
“Sure they will,” Jacy replied calmly. “They’re growing babies.”
I closed the door to Declan’s room after peeking in on him before I went to my own bed. The kittens never opened an eye and were curled into furry balls on either side of him. Unable to halt it, I smiled at the sight.
“They’re good for him,” Jacy said quietly from behind me.
“I guess so. I admit, I never thought a cat could be so loyal.”
“Oh, they’re very loyal,” Jacy murmured. “I had a cat once. Named her Dancer. She loved me to the moon and back.”
Something, a note of grief maybe, in her tone had me taking a second look at her face in the darkness. “What happened to her?”
“She died.” Jacy turned away to cross the hall to her own room.
I caught her arm. “Of old age?”
“No. My brother. He killed her.”
***
“You’re lucky, bro.”
Fletcher clapped me on the back before lifting his beer bottle to his lips. “You’ve got a great gal in your nanny. Don’t let her go.”
“I’ll try not to.” I drank from my own, half watching the ball game on the TV above the bar. I’d accepted Fletcher’s invitation for a few beers in our local bar, and let Jacy know I’d be late home. “I almost lost her, though. She’s got someone after her.”
“‘After her’? Like whom?”
I shrugged. “She won’t say. I’m guessing an ex-hubby or boyfriend. She’s terrified of this dude.”
Fletch nodded sagely. “Us of the male persuasion tend to be possessive, stupid, violent, thinking with our peckers and stupid.”
“You said that twice.”
“Because we’re double stupid. Man, I hope you’re planning to run this dude through with the tip of your sword.”
“I was planning to burn him to death.”
Fletch shrugged. “That works.” He drank another long gulp of his beer. “Me, I’m staying single. Females scare me.”
“They scare me, too.” I glumly swallowed half my bottle. “But I could fall in love, I’m telling you.”
He flung his arm companionably over my shoulder, his beer breath wafting into my face. “Don’t. She’ll emasculate you faster than a dull blade. Love her, worship her, don’t ever let her near your family jewels.”
“You’re drunk,” I complained.
“Yep. And proud of it.” Fletch upended his bottle and drank his beer to the end.
“How will we ever procreate of we don’t have sex?” I demanded.
Fletch waved his arm in the air. “Aren’t there enough of us? Making babies merely adds to the population. It never guarantees love requited.”
“Don’t I know it.” I signaled the bartender for another round. “I’m finally divorced, you know.”
“Are you?” Fletch grinned broadly. “Now you’re back on the market, bro. Find a nice lady and make Declan an older brother.”
“Didn’t you just tell me to not procreate?” I demanded, glaring.
“Sure did. That’s advice I’ll offer and never take for myself.” Fletch grinned. “I’ll never sire the next in line.”
“I think that’s a good thing,” I grumbled, accepting my fresh bottle and tossing bills across the bar. “You’d be a rotten dad.”
“Here’s to living life as a bachelor.” Fletch tossed his head back and downed half his bottle. “For me and not for thee.”
“Grow up, man.”
“Nope. Don’t wanna, don’t hafta. Growing old isn’t an option, growing up is.”
“I hate you.”
Fletch grabbed my shoulders to pull me toward him, then kissed my cheek. “But I love you.”
I pushed him away. “Don’t do that.” I wiped his kiss from my cheek. “People will think we’re gay.”
Fletch blinked. “We’re not?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s your answer. Great sex with me, and no babies.”
“Come home with me.”
“No. You’re not my type.”
He rested his head on my shoulder. “You can be on top.”
I shoved him away. “Find a nice girl and make babies. If you’re lucky, they won’t look like you. If you’re lucky.”
***
Nursing a slight hangover the next morning, I dragged myself to the office. I booted up my computer, then left my desk to brew coffee. While I waited for it to percolate, I pondered Fletch’s dire premonition the previous night.
You’ll fall in love. And when you do, she’ll find out what you are. And pull an Elsa.
“I won’t fall in love,” I muttered thickly. “I can’t. I can’t risk my heart, or Declan’s, ever again. Jacy is our nanny and that’s all she is.”
Returning to my computer, I called up my e-mail while sipping my coffee. I scanned past the usual client list, deleted the spam, planned to read the daily stock reports within a few minutes. A strange address caught my attention. I set my coffee on its warmer, then clicked on the message.
Greetings, Avery. I’m in town and will pay a visit to your office at noon sharp today. Don’t even think of not answering your door. Avoid me at your peril. And remember, I represent the governing council. Should you decline to chat with me, you’ll never see your son ever again.