by Webster, K
Her voice seems off.
I stir under the covers. They don’t feel as soft as the blanket Momma knitted for me. The smell of my bedroom is different.
“Momma?” I ask, confused, opening my eyes. The room is unfamiliar. Not my bedroom. And the girl leaning over me is not my momma. A beautiful woman, hair as dark as night, eyes greener than one of Bob Ross’s happy little trees, and a smile as kind as an angel. “Oh, bless it, am I dead?” Is she an angel? Waiting to take me to heaven’s gate?
There’s a soft giggle before she answers. “No, you’re not dead.”
“But on my way? You’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen any, but I’ve always been curious. Are all angels female or do they have male angels too? Do fairies exist or is that only in the movies? I’ve always wanted to catch a—”
“Francis, I’m not an angel and you’re not dead. You’re at the farm.”
Farm? Why would I be at a—
“Oh my God!” I sit up, cursing and falling back to the bed. My stomach screams in pain.
“Be careful, you have a bruised rib. Nothing’s broken, but you’re going to be a little sore.”
My memories kick into overdrive, the car chase, the gun fire, the explosion. “Luca!” I call out.
“He’s here. You were brought in together. Even Chandler. Cala just took him outside on a walk. Those two seem to have a liking for one another.”
Oh, thank God Chandler’s okay. But Luca. “Is he…is he okay?” It was a bad crash. I remember the noise, the shooting pain in my side, and then, nothing.
Her face falls a smidge. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to see him. That damn stubborn fool of a man has him hidden and instructed me to stay with you until you wake up.”
Stubborn man? Who… Mr. Death! Is this…? “Lindsay?”
“Yeah, and you’re Francis. The one who’s been keeping everyone in line.” She smiles, offering me a sense of ease. She doesn’t look like she’s been through hell or tortured. My eyes quickly search her fingers and she seems to have all ten still in place. “Don’t worry, all ten toes are there too. Such a bluffer that man is.”
That man. Her captor. My future demise. “Who is he?” It’s important I see him immediately and demand he release Lindsay and Cala, and also fess up his intentions with me.
“I’m not sure,” she says, sounding completely honest.
“Is he going to kill me?” I need to know at least once they’re safe, all this wasn’t for nothing.
She grabs my hand and squeezes. “He’s all bark, no bite. He’s not a good man. And he sure is hiding something. I’m just not sure what. I do believe he won’t harm any of us, but you don’t go through all this trouble for nothing.”
I try and sit up, the pain making it almost impossible. Lindsay helps me until I’m able to lean against the headboard. “I need to see him. Right now.”
She’s unsure by my demand, but nods and stands. “All right. Let’s go let the beast know you’re awake.” She helps me up, and with her assistance, guides me out of the quaint room and down a hallway. She holds my hand as we walk down a set of stairs into an open living room. I stop for a moment to take in how beautiful the house is. Pale grays and yellow fill the room, paintings of flowers and sunsets on the wall. The furniture is big and cozy to the eye and the wood flooring really gives it the true farmhouse feel. “He’s in his office. We’re not allowed in there, but I’m sure it’ll be okay to let him know you’re awake.”
I nod, following her through the house. I sneak a peek at the enormous kitchen, then the bathroom before we stop in front of two large wooden doors.
Lindsay knocks, and without an invitation, she pushes open the doors.
“What in Sam hell are you doing just walking in here, woman?” His voice is harsh. My view of him is covered by Lindsay, who’s standing in front of me. He slams his fist on his desk and stands. That’s when I finally see him.
Mr. Death.
My eyes take in his large frame. Six-two at least. Broad shoulders. Muscular. His hair thick, with a brushing of gray. He looks younger than I would have imagined, minus the graying. His eyes are dark, piercing Lindsay until she steps to the side.
“You—you’re awake.” His voice is now missing the beastly tone. There’s small movement to his lips. A smile possibly?
“I am. I want to see Luca.”
His chest sticks out. Smile gone. “Not happening.”
“I beg to differ. I want to see him right this instant or I’m leaving.” I lock my arms across my chest. His brows turn up in a confused manner.
“That’s also not happening.” He throws himself back into his massive chair. “Now that you’re awake, I have some questions. Starting with did that son of a bitch take advantage of you?” His jaw tightens, and I wonder if the crackling I hear are his knuckles popping or his teeth grinding together.
“What? That is none of your business, Dr. Death—”
“It’s Mr. Death.”
“And let me ask you. Did you take advantage of Lindsay?”
His eyes pop. I turn to Lindsay, her cheeks instantly flushing.
“That is none of your—I mean no! She’s my—I don’t answer to you. You answer to me!”
“Where’s Luca, Death? I want to see him now!” I raise my voice, aggravating my bruised rib in the process. I bend slightly to console my stomach, and Death hops up out of his chair.
“What is it?”
“It’s my…” Hmmm…interesting. “It’s my stomach. Luca has my pills. I need them or I’m gonna…” I bend over and moan of more pain. Fake pain. “Ohhhhhhh the pain. I need them.”
I hear giggling.
I peek up and see a little girl standing in front of me. “You sound funny. Like a ghost. Are you an actress? You should be one.”
“Cala, stop,” Lindsay scolds her.
Forgetting my fake injury, I stand completely straight, slapping a genuine smile on my face. “Well, hello there! I’m Francis. I’m your uncle’s wi—wise friend!” I peer over at Death, who looks like he’s about to commit murder. Geez, grump. Also, may be a good thing I keep it to myself that we’re married. “How has your stay here been? Have you been treated nicely? Fed healthy meals? Bed at an early—”
“Enough! Lindsay, I want to be alone with Francis.”
She doesn’t even argue. She grabs her daughter’s hand and offers me a reassuring smile as the two exit the room, surprisingly a happy Chandler trailing behind.
“Where’s my goat?”
“Where’s Luca?”
“I’m not playing games with you, child. Where’s—”
“And I’m not a child. You should know, Dr.—”
“Mister!”
“Death. I’m not a child. Believe it or not, I’m quite the woman.”
He grumbles, swiping his hands down his face.
“The things I’ve experienced the last week, no child would—”
“Jesus, enough!”
I jump a bit at his raised voice. His fist once again slams against his desk.
“Fine, just tell me he’s all right. Is he hurt? Has he asked about me?”
His eyes darken. His closed fists rest on his desk and it’s then I notice the cuts. “Did…did you hurt him?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t anymore. Soon he’ll be gone and—”
My heart sinks. “No! You can’t! We’re married! I—I love him.”
The floor rumbles below my feet as Death pops from his chair, his voice sending chills down my spine. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Oh shoot.
My throat locks, unsure how to respond. Repeat myself or laugh and say just kidding.
“PAUL!” he roars, the hairs on my arms blowing sideways. Quickly, Van Damme my buddy, or Paul and not so much my buddy anymore, enters Death’s office. “Get Francis back in her room and make sure she stays there. I have business to take
care of. And you…” His eyes slay through me. “Don’t give him any trouble or you’ll regret it.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, which was going to be, I’m not a child, no reason to talk to me like one, but he’s gone before my mouth even forms the first word.
I wake with a start. Not realizing after pacing the small room for hours, I must have fallen asleep. My eyes dart open, the face of a small child not inches away from mine. “I like ice cream and cake. Some people only like one or the other, but I like both. What’s your favorite flavor?”
I blink away the drowsiness and try and sit up without head butting Cala. “Well, I also prefer both. My favorite flavor is chocolate and I put peanut butter and jelly in mine, and sometimes I take cake and smash it into my ice cream, so it’s like I’m eating ice cream and cake and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
She’s in shock. Oh dear, I’ve broken the child.
“Are you from this planet?”
Her question causes me to laugh. “I think so. Are you? They do say we have aliens living amongst us.”
Her eyes light up. “Mommy told me that aliens don’t exist. Neither does the boogieman, but Pappa Death said they do. He tells me he’s the boogieman, which makes my belly laugh.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because he’s not scary. Not like some of the men Mommy’s brought home. He tries to be the big bad wolf, but I can tell he’s just a big gray teddy bear.” She earns another good chuckle out of me.
“Has he been nice to you?”
“Yep. He lets me feed the goats. And when he puts me down, he feeds Mommy. I hear them arguing, though. I hope he doesn’t hit her like the others do.”
My smile fades. Luca’s mentioned Lindsay’s had it hard. No one should be treated that way. “Cala, honey, did any of those bad men ever hit you?” I hold my breath, fearing her answer.
“No, Mommy always told me to stay in my room. We had special code words for when I was to lock my door and keep it locked. She calls us special spies.”
I exhale. At least Lindsay shielded her daughter. But who was shielding her?
The door to the bedroom opens and the pitter-patter of Chandler’s nails hit the floor. “There you are,” Lindsay says and Cala runs and jumps into her mother’s arms. “What did I tell you about bothering Miss Francis?”
“You said to make sure she got her beauty rest. So, I was watching her to make sure. I think she was dreaming. Her eyeballs were moving all around.” She turns to me. “Mommy says that happens when you dream.” She turns back to Lindsay, bringing her lips to her ear, and whispers loudly, “I think she was dreaming about ice cream and cake.”
Lindsay laughs and hugs her to her chest. I stare at them while they have their moment, a small sense of envy. I wish I still had that. The ability to hug my own momma. Bask in her laugh.
“Sorry. Um, I came to see if you were hungry.”
My stomach takes that exact moment to grumble something fierce. “No. I can’t think about food until I know Luca’s safe.”
Lindsay’s face resembles mine. She’s also worried about him. She puts Cala down and Chandler starts running circles around her little feet.
“I think I know of a way to get him to budge,” she says.
I’m all ears. “Whatever it is…”
“Give him Billy back.”
“I’m itchy.”
“Shhhhhhh….”
“Point the light this way…”
After planning, we all separated, until dark. Death refused to allow me to see Luca, so I refused to eat dinner with them. It only angered him more, but what did I care? My only concern was for Luca. Even though I was starving. At first Paul tried to coerce me to come down. I told that traitor not a chance and to relay the message to his boss. When Death came up banging on the door, I continued to stand my ground. Luca or no dice. His parting words before hearing him storm off were he was the one making the calls, not me. To make matters worse, now the smell of warm apple pie was seeping through the crack of the door.
Finally, after chewing my nails off, I heard the special three knocks and a whistle from Cala, informing me Mr. Death had locked himself in his office, as Lindsay says he does every night and it was safe to begin our mission.
I grabbed the things I found around the room and tiptoed down the hall. I met Lindsay by the staircase and together the three of us snuck out the back door of the kitchen, heading straight for Gordon’s house.
“Can I take this off?” Cala whines.
“No, someone will see us. We need to stay in disguise,” I tell her at the pillowcase mask I made each of us.
“It keeps tickling my nose.”
After a tiring haul and a handful of mosquito attacks, we make it to the edge of the land. Cala mentioned a spot in the fence that had a hole, which allowed the goats to sometimes go into Gordon’s lawn. Once all three of us squeeze through, we dart toward the house, a dim light coming from the porch.
I signal them to follow, and I army crawl, just like in the movies, up his front steps. Ducking under the front windowsill, I peak into the window. The living room is filled with balloons and streamers, “Birthday” by The Beatles playing in the background. Cake sits on the table in the corner and Gordon is wearing a party hat, along with Billy, and is that a cat in a birthday suit? “What the—”
“YAY! BALLOONS!”
I throw my hand over Cala’s mouth, but it’s too late. Her voice trails and catches Gordon’s attention. He whips his head in our direction and before I can duck, we make eye contact. Shoot.
“Bloody hell! Who’s out there? I’ll shoot!” he growls, reaching for something behind his couch and making his way to the front door. Oh crud! Twisting to snatch Cala and run, the front door flies open, giving me just enough time to throw Cala behind me.
“Don’t shoot! It’s Francis from the, uh…Global Tribune!”
“Huh?” That comes from everyone.
I whip off my homemade mask. “I’m the one who had you steal Billy. I’m just here to get him back.” Both Lindsay and Cala pull off their pillowcases, revealing their faces.
Gordon eyes me wearily, taking in a nervous Lindsay and a smiling from ear to ear Cala. “Now what has you all happy, child? You’re trespassing. I can shoot ya and feed ya to my cows.”
“You don’t have cows. Just a cat, which I see has a party hat on. What kinda party you having, sir?”
He pauses, turning as we all take in the scene inside. “Well, it’s Sherley’s birthday.”
“Sherley?” Cala asks.
“My cat, girl!” he grumbles. We all look back, in fact, to the cat, who’s wearing a sweater with a birthday cake on it.
“May we come in and have cake? I love birthday parties!” Cala puts her hands together, bouncing up and down. Gordon looks hesitant at first, but shrugs and swings his hand toward the open door.
“I don’t see why not. We have enough to share. And Billy loves cake, so I’d hate to send him off before we serve any.”
The three of us practically bounce inside Mr. Death’s farmhouse, our bellies overstuffed with sugar. Before coming inside, we deposited Billy in the field with the rest of the goats, saying my first hello to Juniper.
“So, is it true? Did you and my brother get married?” Lindsay’s question has me tripping over my own feet, trying to be quiet as we sneak back into the house.
“I, uh…” Shoot. I don’t know what to say! I look back and she’s staring at me, waiting for an answer. “We, uh, did actually.” Even though I feel a ton of guilt for doing something without anyone’s permission, the fact we did it for each other makes my heart speed up. I got married! I cover my mouth as an unexpected giggle bursts through my lips. “Oh dear. Sorry.” What’s wrong with me?
“It’s not like my brother to do something so spontaneous like that. You must mean something special to him. Which also means, you’re kinda my sister-in-law now.”
Her words hit me like a freight train. I’ve never had
a sister. I’ve never had any family besides Momma. And now I have Luca, a sister, and a niece! My eyes well with tears and I wrap my arms around her.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” she asks, returning the embrace.
“Giving me a family.”
She pulls away. “You have a family. Everyone has a family.”
“Not me. My momma passed away. So did my daddy. I was alone until Luca. I mean, I have a couple of friends of my mother’s, but he’s shown me what it feels like to be a part of something special. Something for me. A part of a team. Thank you for accepting me and not hating me for doing something without your permission.”
Her kind eyes comfort me as she goes back for another hug. “Francis, you don’t need my permission. This is between you and him. If anything, I commend the woman who finally put my brother in his place. Welcome to the family—”
“What in Sam hell is going on here?” We both whip around to Mr. Death, who’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his large frame blocking any source of exit strategy. Gone is the pressed suit as he stands there looking so normal in a pair of gray sweats, a fitted white T-shirt, and barefoot. “I thought you were in your room,” he growls to Lindsay, then turns his angry eyes on me. “And I thought you were on a strike.”
Lindsay and I break apart and I stand tall and fearless. “We were busy. What’s it to you?” Wow, does smoke really come from people’s ears when they’re mad?
“Vincent, we were just—”
“Vincent?” My eyes dart to Lindsay. “Did you just call him by his…” I whip back around to Death. “So, you are the Vincent. The mob boss. Andy Garcia!” I feel like I just won the lottery with this new development. I can’t wait to rub it in Luca’s face that I was right—
“Lindsay, go to your room.”
I grab her arm. “Lindsay, don’t go to your room. What are you? Her dad?” His eyes threaten to pop out of his sockets. “How about you go to your room,” I go on.
