Second Act (Night Fury 2)

A noise of protest comes from low in Tomas’s throat but he places his hand in Xavier’s. Tomas leads Xavier away, and just before they leave, Xavier turns and winks at me.

I’m not sure why exactly, but ever since we came to blows the previous week, Xavier has become a friend. Perhaps he needed someone to throw a healthy dose of reality in his face.

My stomach twists. Bob says it’s almost time for them to leave. But I don’t want them to leave. I like them here. They’ve become a part of us. A part of our family.

How will they survive without us?

How will I live without them?

***

I have a job tonight.

It’s supposed to be an easy one. In and out. No need for mess or hassle.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the need for bloodshed after Bob told me Tomas and Xavier will be leaving the day after next.

Quite frankly, I’m pissed off. I understand when Bob says this is no place for civilians. I do. But it’s not like I’m walking around asking, “Hey Tom, want to see my sword?”

After plenty of thought, I’ve decide to plead with Bob to let them stay a little while longer.

The office door is open, but as I get closer, my determined steps slow.

“How could you do this?” This comes from Bob, and it sounds accusatory.

“I didn’t plan this, Bob. It just happened.” This is Frankie. Her voice soft.

Something is knocked over, landing on the floor with a crash. A harsh, “Who’s is it?”

A slap resounds.

My eyes widen.

Frankie sounds heartbroken when she croaks, “You are a lot of things, Bob, but you never were an asshole.”

Silence.

Silence that worries me.

Finally, she states acidly, “It’s yours.” A long silence, then she adds wearily, “For me, it was always you.” There’s a pause. “But it never was me for you, was it?”

Bob sighs, “I never wanted kids, Frankie. Not ever.”

Frankie returns with, “But you took in Cat…”

Bob spaces out the words, making his point, “I. Never. Wanted. Children.”

And it cuts me deeply. So deep that my chest feels slashed open. Gaping. Raw.

He never wanted me.

I love him but he never wanted me.

My eyes fill with tears. Frankie exits the office, not even sparing me a glance. As Bob attempts to go after her, he comes to a screech in front of me.

His eyes widen in shock. “Cat.” He takes one look at my face and I know he knows I heard him. “Sweetie…”

Not waiting for an explanation, I turn and walk away from him. He calls out again, but I don’t stop. He taught me better than to let people see me cry.

Chapter Thirteen

Bob tries to speak to me a second and third time today, but I flee both times, not letting him say a single word for fear of what he might say.

I have my memories of my childhood. Good memories. I don’t want anything to taint that.

My garden has been sorely neglected while Tomas and Xavier have been with us. Truth be told, I prefer spending time with them than being in my most favourite place in the world.

I smile to myself as I lie back on my cot.

My routine over the past week has changed dramatically. My mornings are spent mostly with Tomas, as we are early risers, while we wait for the others to wake. I’ll normally find him standing in the hall, rocking, while it’s still dark out. That’s when I’ll take him by the hand and lead him to the kitchen where we quietly share breakfast.

I’ve learnt that fruity rings are his favourite cereal.

He makes a mess of himself, but it’s fine because he has fun doing it. He’s even tried to feed me a couple of times, smiling all the while. How could I refuse a shaky spoonful of cereal when that face is so happy?

I once asked Xavier what he does about the morning wanderings at home, which was clearly a huge mistake. He shot me a hateful glance and spat, “Well, I’m not about to fuckin’ lock him up like some animal, Cat.”

I quickly apologised. Then stuck my foot deeper into my mouth when I told him it was dangerous for Tomas to be wandering the house by himself in the dark.

That’s when his face turned tortured. After a long while, he admitted on a whisper, “I know.” His voice thickened with shame. “That’s why I lock him in his room at night.”

And my heart broke.

As I lie here trying hard not to read too much into what Bob said this morning, my head clears for a single moment before I jump up off the bed with a gasp. It’s only just hit me.

I run a hand through my hair and whisper, wide eyed, “Holy shit.” I blink in shock.

Frankie’s pregnant.

***

Running to Bob’s room, I’m almost stopped by Ari.

Holding my hand out, I rush out, “Not right now. This is an emergency.”

I continue to run and when I get to Bob’s bedroom, I swing open the door and come to an abrupt halt. A frown mars my brows.

She’s not here.

Mirage.

Of course.

On foot again, I pass Ari a second time but cut her off when she tries to speak. “Sorry, Ari. I’ll find you once I’ve found Frankie.”

I hear Ari growl but I keep running. I run down the stairs. I run through the kitchen and right though the back door. I run over to the barn and key in my code.

My heart races. I pant and sweat. But I don’t care.

I need to see her.

Finally, I reach her bedroom and knock. “Frankie? You in there?”

There is no response but I can hear shuffli

ng from the inside. Against my better judgement, I open the door and what I see makes my stomach roll.

Bags.

She’s packing bags.

Not just a bag.

Bags. Plural.

She’s leaving.

My voice sounds that of a scared little girl. “What are you doing?”

Her lips quiver; her cheeks are tear-stained. She doesn’t even look up at me. She doesn’t even answer me.

I take a small step into her room, mouth gaping. “What are you doing?” I repeat, louder this time.

But she ignores me. And it hurts. It also makes me angry. “You’re taking off? Just like that? Like a goddamn coward?”

This gets a reaction. She turns her bright eyes up at me and hisses, “You don’t know shit, Cat. Fuck off.”

I shake my head, jaw steeled. “You’re pregnant and you’re running. You’re a coward.”

She looks as though she wants to say something but she bites her tongue.

I push further. “Go ahead. Leave. We don’t need you.” I force myself to say something I don’t mean. I need her to react. “I don’t need you.”

Rather than make her angry, she chokes on a sob. “You’re a bitch.”

My lips quiver. “Get angry. Fight me. Don’t run away with your tail between your legs.” She continues to throw things into her duffle bags. My voice shakes, “Don’t leave.”

I watch on as the first of my tears fall. In a desperate attempt at forcing emotion, I rush forward, take the fuller bag and dump its contents all over the floor. Clothes and framed photographs lay strewn on the ground.

Silent, painfully so, Frankie’s body shakes in silent sobs as she kneels to pick up her belongings.

My legs give out. I fall to my knees and croak, “Talk to me, dammit.”

Slowing her packing, Frankie mutters in eerie softness. “I have to go.”

My chest aches. “No you don’t. We’ll protect you. I’ll protect you. The church is a safe place.”

She scoffs, “A nun with a kid. Really, Cat?”

Okay. So it doesn’t look good.

“We can say he was an orphan. Like me. We can raise him like you guys raised me.”