The Copper Spyglass Nursery

by Michele Ryan

  Ezra drank the glass of whiskey placed in front of him in one gulp. The alcohol burned all the way down. A piece of him needed that bite of reality to hold him to the here and now. “I am more than sure of it. We can only play off Kellen’s scent as due to him being in proximity of all of us for so long.”

  Jonah sighed before taking a sip of his drink. “Too right. The little lad will be toddling around soon. Before long, his features will become pronounced, and we will be forced to explain.”

  “Being a father is hard. I wonder sometimes if my dad sat by the fire after everyone had gone to bed and contemplated what to do next with his son.” Ezra stared into the barren fireplace, no longer needed since the weather had warmed. “I have two healthy strapping boys and a grandson well on the way to becoming the same.”

  “Aye,” Jonah answered. “What’s the worst that could happen by telling your boy?”

  “It would break him. Since his arrival, Grant has prospered. He hasn’t had any of the reminders of what happened to him, and Lular is giving him some measure of self-confidence back. To tell the boy he sired a son...”

  “Traumatic all the same,” Jonah added.

  “Indeed,” Ezra agreed. “I have run every scenario through my mind of how we should have done this better. How we shouldn’t have hidden the identity of Kellen from Grant, but a boy should be a boy and no boy should have to be forced into a situation out of his control.”

  “So, we’re back to the beginning.” Jonah took another drink. “Suppose when he is sixteen and old enough to understand things, then we will tell him together. All of us.”

  Sixteen seemed too young, but out on the range where families were sprouting up as young if not younger, well, Ezra could agree. “I’d be inclined to agree.”

  “Cheers.” Jonah tapped his glass to Ezra’s then finished off the remaining whiskey in his tumbler.

  Ezra finished his before going in search of his sons. Yesterday Clara had informed him Grant might have feelings for the young Miss Lular. Clara, God love the headstrong woman, wanted to nip it in the bud. Keep them separated. He...he didn’t know the right answer. It was a quandary. On one hand, he wanted Grant to regain some of his childhood—recapture some of the joy he’d lost due to Marbella. On the other hand, he also didn’t want Grant to think all women would use him or that he couldn’t find interest in girls. He toed a delicate line. Plus the possibility of Lular being Grant’s mate was strong.

  As he headed upstairs, he heard some chatter coming from the sitting area off to the right of the main hall. There, sitting on the couch, were his son, Grant, Miss Jemmy and Seh. He wasn’t ready to fully accept the second option he’d been pondering, anyway. For a brief second, he observed their interactions. Seh seemed content to lay on Miss Jemmy’s knees and stare up at her, while she talked to Grant about caring for a sibling.

  “You must remember, young Master Grant, a baby is dependent solely on you. They turn to you for a full belly and a dry nappy. They turn to you when they’re cold, or scared, or tired or a sundry of other things.”

  Grant peered up at Miss Jemmy. “Did you always want to be here? My grandmother told me what happened with your mother and...you know...” He rolled his shoulders, unable to say words that Ezra couldn’t either.

  She studied Grant. “I can’t say I did. I hated your father for a good amount of years, and for a few more, he scared me.”

  “What changed?” Grant scooted closer to her.

  “Everything,” Miss Jemmy stated. “I saw your father in a new light when I followed him during a case.”

  Ezra gapped at her. How had this young woman followed him without notice? He edged forward, only to stop himself. He didn’t want to interfere just yet. He had to hear her answer. Perhaps whatever she said could help him find peace after all the years he’d spent torturing himself for her mother’s death.

  “What did you see?” Grant urged, allowing Seh to grab on to his finger.

  Good boy.

  “Your father saved another small child from a ghoul,” she replied. “He didn’t hesitate. He scooped the girl up, placed her into Andres’ arms, then fought evil. I came back to the house afterwards and found Mr. Cause waiting for me. He brought me into the kitchen, and over a cup of tea—which he didn’t drink—told me the story of my mother’s sickness and Mr. Blakely’s, of your father’s wish to save my mother and, in saving her, protect me.”

  “But it didn’t go so well.”

  Miss Jemmy shook her head. “I forgave him because all he wanted to do is heal my mother. He didn’t want me to be alone.” She swiped away a stray tear then gave Grant a tremulous smile. “Look at me. I’m not alone at all, am I?”

  Grant laid his head against her shoulder. “Somehow, I don’t believe you’ve ever been, Miss Jemmy.”

  “Oh, Master Grant. You are a charmer. Shall we go find ourselves a biscuit and some tea?” With a gentle ease, she lifted Seh to her shoulder.

  “Are they the ones the Harriet makes, with the sugary glaze?” Grant stood with her.

  “I believe we should have those still. If not, I will make some tonight for our nightly cuppa.” They started for where Ezra had been standing, rooted to his spot by their conversation, when Grant stopped Miss Jemmy.

  “May I ask you another question?”

  “You just did,” she teased.

  Grant laughed. “I’m being serious.”

  “Well, I should say so. What’s on your mind?”

  “Would you...I mean, if you want. Could you might consider being my eldest sister?”

  For the second time in minutes, his son has astounded him. The loving soul he’d hoped Grant would continue to have, maybe a bit tarnished, burned bright in those scant few seconds. Ezra’s chest puffed up. His heart swelled. Yes, Jonah was right. All they needed to do was give his boy some room to stretch his paws a bit.

  “Miss Jemmy,” Ezra said, kicking himself for interrupting their moment, but he had to add to his son’s sentiment. A mending of their final puzzle piece, of sorts. “I’d be honored for you to share the Blakely name.”

  Miss Jemmy stared at him for a moment. Her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. She handed Seh to Ezra before hugging Grant. “I would be delighted. But,” she murmured. “I have a confession of my own. I already thought of all of you as my fathers.”

  Well, consider Ezra stumped. “Well, I’ll be.” He rubbed a hand up and down Seh’s back.

  “Come along, young Master Grant. We have biscuits to find and tea to drink.” Miss Jemmy winked at the boy. “Seh has had his nap, and his feeding will be soon. If you need anything…”

  “I believe Seh and I will be just find. Run along. You too.” Ezra winked at Grant. “Don’t get into too much mischief without me.”

  “Of course not, Dad. I wouldn’t dare.” The glint in his son’s eyes told a different story.

  Ezra stood aside as Grant hurried down the stairs toward the kitchen while Seh let out a soft grunt then cooed against his neck. He carried the wriggling bundle into the small nursery he and Jonah had put together for the boy. Every member of their teams had added a touch to the room for Seh. On the small Prince Albert wardrobe sat an out-of-place overtly large top hat curtesy of Mr. Tinnin.

  On the opposite end sat a few books, some of Emmitt’s favorite children’s stories, and a small bunny. A new creation from Dr. Cantrel. Fashioned like the butterfly he’d been accustomed to wearing while out in public, the bunny worked the same way. Only, the brilliant doctor had recorded Clara singing a soft lullaby to play whenever Seh became distressed or upset. How such a rudimentary contraption could do such surprised and amazed Ezra.

  The crib had been hand-crafted by Charlie. He’d made the bed adjustable to their son. It could grow with their boy until, Ezra supposed, adulthood, if he wished to keep his frame. The bedding on the inside had been hand-sewn by Miss Dell and Miss Jemmy without Clara or himself seeing it. A small wolf pup graced the pillow, while the mural on the quilt showed tha
t of a small pack. A portrait of Ezra’s family.

  Two paintings Andres had created specifically for Seh’s room hung on the eastern and northern walls. Both were whimsical. Both were filled with love, something he’d have doubted the fiend had even experienced. On the floor beside the crib sat a small rocking horse. Somehow Omer had purchased the gift from a local cobbler without leaving the house. Ezra snorted as he glanced around the room. Every inch of the room was covered in items gifted to their son out of love.

  In turn, they’d all done the same for Jonah and Annabelle with their son, Kellen. Ezra placed a hand to Seh’s back before sitting in the rocking chair. He’d been skeptical about its comfort when Donovan showed him, but those fears eased the moment he sat down. In a year, so much had changed.

  All of it for the better, no doubt. He suspected the lingering nagging worry about Grant and Kellen would settle. His emotions were still high when he thought of all the things his son had endured. Of course, those same emotions would be tripled as he thought of the young wolf still becoming accustomed to Jonah and Annabelle being his parents, and the traumas of being born so immature.

  As he sat there rocking his son, Ezra contemplated everything Jonah told him and tried to reconcile them with his own feelings on the subject. It would be hard to do. Ezra had realized it the moment he’d found the small, almost lifeless body buried in Hyde Park, but he’d do it for Grant, and for all of them, because everyone needed him to. They needed his strength and his resilience to guide their way.

  “What do you think of all this?” Ezra whispered to Seh while glancing down at him.

  His son gave a mighty grunt then a whimper. Ezra’s palm began to warm. Ezra groaned. Why couldn’t they teach Seh to shit in the woods like all the other wolves? His son let out another whimpered cry as Ezra stood. The putrid scent emanating from his son’s behind had Ezra’s nose wrinkling in disgust.

  “What did you eat?” He carried the sobbing boy over to where Clara usually changed the nappies. “That can’t be good for you, whatever it is.”

  On the first shelf sat a small jar of ointment Clara had made for Seh’s bum, dry clothes, fresh nappies and pins. On the second shelf sat a small basin and a pitcher of water to clean Seh. Ezra grabbed what he needed and placed it to his right. He mentally prepared himself for what would come next. First, he removed Seh’s small knickers. The smell intensified. He took a step back, but the air didn’t clear.

  Seh’s soft sobs turned to vicious cries of relief. It was almost as if his son called out to him and said, “Dear God, Father, there is a giant pile of poo in my nappy. Remove it at once!”

  Ezra took a step forward then frowned. How would he ever get through this? The last time he’d changed one of these blasted things, it’d only been wet. Now...now, he’d never live it down. The band of fiendish men would rub it in for eternity. Get your teeth into it. Clara does this all the time. How hard can it truly be? Very, from the smell of things. Close enough now, he pulled Seh’s shirt up then unfastened the pins.

  “Okay, boy. We can handle this.” Ezra removed the second pin and when he pulled the flap down, his infant son let loose with a torrent of urine.

  Ezra yelped. He held his hand up to block getting it on him, which worked about as well as pouring water through an open window and hoping the hardwood floors wouldn’t get wet. With the other hand, he tried to place the nappy over Seh. Instead of it calming the situation—shituation more like it—it made it worse. The poor boy had poo everywhere thanks to Ezra’s fumblings.

  “Mr. Blakely, what’s happened?” Miss Jemmy appeared at the door. Her eyes were wide as she took in the scene.

  “We’ve had a bit of an accident.” He frowned, still holding the soiled nappy.

  “I should say so.” She entered the room and hurried to his side. “First—” She grabbed the nappy pail next to the table and brought it closer to them. It contained a mixture of bleach and laundry soap where the nappies soaked. “We need this.” She then placed the basin on the shelf next to them and filled it with water. “Go ahead and throw the nappy into the bucket.”

  Ezra did as she asked, leaving his son exposed to the slight chill of the room. Seh cried harder. “Now what?”

  “While I prepare his nappy, take some of the soap and apply it to the wash-flannel so we can clean his bum.” Miss Jemmy added, “You look frightened to death.”

  “You would be too, if you were being peed on.” Ezra did as she instructed. “Is this enough?”

  Jemmy glanced over her shoulder at him. “More than enough. Now, wash his bum like you’d wash your own.”

  Easy for her to say. He never had to clean shit from his butt cheeks or his scrotum. He was thankful though. At least it wasn’t like the one Clara changed the other day. Seh had been covered from head to toe. He didn’t know how it happened, or if he should be impressed, or if he should contact Father Douglas to perform an exorcism on the poor boy.

  As he began to clean away the muck, Seh settled down. His gaze kept tracking back to Ezra as he continued to clean him. By the time Ezra finished washing away the soap, Jemmy had the nappy waiting.

  “Now, a little of the ointment Clara made on his bum first, then some powder so he smells fresh.” Miss Jemmy went through each step with him, until they had the small bundle re-dressed. Ezra let out a sigh of relief. One dirty nappy down, several more to go, he imagined.

  “Thank you for saving me,” he said as he swayed from side to side.

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.” Miss Jemmy gathered up the soiled articles and took the offending items out of the room.

  “Trial by fire, I see.” His mate stepped into the room. “At least you are in one piece.”

  Ezra gathered her into his arms, surprised by her appearance. “It was touch and go there for a bit. I’m not sure I would have survived without Miss Jemmy’s expert teachings and immeasurable patience.”

  “Well,” Clara whispered, running her hand across his chest. “I say you did a fantastic job. Panicking and all.”

  “Alphas don’t panic,” he chided.

  Clara laughed. “Sure they don’t, my love.”

  Chapter Four

  Clara leaned her head against Ezra’s chest. In those moments she realized she needed to do something for him. Something to show her appreciation for him. He’d been the one to make some of the hardest decisions for them over the last few months. To not acknowledge such would be an oversight on her part.

  She went on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The hungry sound he made as he pulled her close sent a bolt of arousal through her body. He was as starved for her affections as she too yearned for his. Ezra’s fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss. She was on fire. Had their son not started to cry, she would have allowed him to do whatever he wanted to ease the ache building within.

  Ezra broke the kiss. His eyes were wild with lust. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. Clara made the mistake of glancing down. The outline of his erection pressed against the front of his trousers. Her mouth watered, and the incessant throb between her thighs intensified. Her knees were jelly as she reached for Seh, who’d began to cry in earnest now.

  “I should tend to him,” she whispered.

  “After the mess he made,” Ezra teased. “I’m not surprised.”

  Clara laughed. She pressed her lips to his cheek. “We will continue this later.”

  He growled. “Yes, we will.” Ezra adjusted himself before exiting the room, leaving her to take care of their son.

  “Come on, my big strapping boy. Time for dinner.” She lifted Seh from the soft bedding and placed him against her shoulder. He gave a soft grunt then settled down. “You gave your father a run for his money.”

  Seh gave another grunt.

  Clara chuckled then sighed as she adjusted him to nurse. “We should do something special for your father.”

  She’d noticed in the paper a World Fair would be coming to London that particular w
eekend. She’d never been to one, but from the fanfare in the article it sounded fascinating. The piece talked about innovations from all around the world, from the technologically simple to the most advanced steam-powered machinations.

  The report touted food from all corners of the globe and drinks to satisfy the masses. The whole commentary invoked happiness and excitement. She would be remiss if she hadn’t felt the same. She glanced out the window. They were always working. Always protecting a city that didn’t know they existed or if they did, gave them a wide berth. Doing this for Ezra would show how much she appreciated his sacrifices.

  Once Seh had fallen asleep, she tucked him into his bassinet then headed down to the library. She would be able to hear her son cry if something should change or if he should need her. As she stepped inside, she caught Emmitt and Andres in an embrace. If they saw her or suspected she stood in the doorway, neither man said a word. Still, it gave her a moment to witness a different side to the reanimated man.

  Clara cleared her throat as she stepped farther into the room. Andres wore a smirk upon the lips which had previously been locked with Emmitt’s. Emmitt appeared slightly flustered by the interruption. She crossed to the table where she usually sat and pulled out the chair.

  “I have something I wish to discuss with everyone,” she stated. “I realize we might have a few hours before Annabelle and Jonah can join us, so if you wish to continue your liaison...”

  Andres laughed while Emmitt sputtered.

  “She’s teasing you,” Andres stated. “Besides, you promise to play hide the key later.”

  The words rolled off Andres’ tongue as an aroused purr. He tilted Emmitt’s chin toward him. The way the fiend stared at the reanimated man surprised Clara. She’d always assumed Andres wouldn’t take an inch of life seriously or give himself to someone like Emmitt. Not that she didn’t believe the man deserved it. On the contrary, she thought Andres too vain of a man to have the compassion necessary to care for a man literally cobbled together.