by Shae Mallak
"Thank you, Miss Aberdeen," Hobbs smiled weakly. "I do have one more question and please take your time in answering," he said.
I steeled myself for the question, uncertain if my already-frayed nerves could handle much more after the last few days I'd endured.
"When was the last time you saw your father, Miss Aberdeen?" Cutler asked when Hobbs waited too long.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was hard to think about the last time I saw him, knowing I would never see him again. It'd been the night before last, when Jonah kicked him out of the car coming back from Kinney's Den. Right before Jonah chased me in the woods as a dragon—I forgot I was mad at him for that—and then he never came home.
No, I mentally corrected myself. Jonah saw him—wearing a suit, of all things. I said as much to Hobbs and Cutler, who questioned Jonah a little about his last interaction with the man. It was another twenty minutes before they finally left.
"Oh, Ev," Jonah sighed, pulling me into his arms. I could hear soft footsteps creeping down the steps but kept my eyes closed as tears leaked out beneath my eyelashes and dripped on Jonah's shoulder.
"Evie?" Addis called uncertainly from the foot of the stairs.
The twins! What was I going to tell the twins?! They were orphans now—all three of us were—and they had endured more in their ten years of life than most do in fifty. It wasn't fair!
"Is it true?" he asked softly.
I opened my eyes, pulling away from Jonah and opening my arms to both of them, Ava hovering behind her brother on the last step. Of course Ava already knew. The look in her eyes told me she'd known it was coming for a while, just like with Mom. Only this time I hadn't been around to share it with until it was too late. My heart broke a little more thinking about it.
Addis and Ava both rushed into my arms and I squeezed them tight as I could, joined by Jonah and Greg soon after as well. "Yes," I answered his question. "It's true." My voice cracked and sobs threatened my already crumbling composure. "Daddy's gone," I whispered. The five of us held each other that way on the couch for a while, all tangled and lumped together, crying as a family.
Family. It was strange, but I automatically included both Greg and Jonah as part of our family already. In such a short time, they both wove themselves into our lives so seamlessly it was hard to imagine being without either one of them anymore. It didn't seem fair that I had to lose my father in order to gain Greg and Jonah in my life.
And I'd been so mad at Dad the last few times I'd seen him! It horrified me! When was the last time I told him I loved him? When was the last time we hugged or laughed together instead of griping at each other all the time? So many lost moments and missed chances and now he was gone before I could make it up to him. The pain in my chest felt endless.
TWENTY-ONE
After the initial wave of grief passed, my first instinct was to make myself busy—to take care of things like I did when Mom died. The only problem was there was actually surprisingly little for me to do. My father's will covered his belongings and the matter of custody of the twins—both of which were given to myself. It seemed he had the wisdom to draft a will and testament before he defaulted as a respectable lawyer of Sinclair Falls. There was even a burial plot waiting for him next to Mom, bought and paid. The body wasn't going to be released for some time while the police conducted their investigation, so we couldn't arrange the funeral yet.
With nothing else to busy myself with, I cleaned. I started in the kitchen and scrubbed every surface I could reach and when there was nothing left to clean there, I moved on to the living room and through the rest of the house.
No one tried to help me—I think they all understood it was my own strange way of working through my grief. The twins both disappeared into their bedroom and Jonah and Greg were both in Dad's office with the door closed. I didn't care what they were doing in there—I wasn't strong enough to go in there anyway.
Several hours later, Jonah found me on my hands and knees scrubbing bathroom tile. He lingered in the doorway for several minutes while I ignored him and tried to scrub out a stain that was several years old. Eventually I gave up, dropping my head wearily and closing my eyes.
"What is it, Jonah?" I finally asked, twisting to sit on the floor instead of kneel and I tipped my head up to look him in the face.
He looked sad and concerned and it was all aimed at me. It was overwhelming trying to process what he felt for me, more so trying to figure out what I felt for him—or what I could feel for him, given time. It was exhausting and I wished it was easier to ignore it.
Unfortunately for me, Jonah brought it up with every glance in my direction that heated my blood, every brush of his fingers that made my skin tingle. We never did finish our conversation that morning. There was still so much I didn't know about the paranormal world, but it seemed almost unimportant in light of recent events.
"Just checking on you," he answered. "Run out of soap yet?" he teased.
I threw the sponge at him and it dripped sudsy drops down the front of his borrowed t-shirt. He finally put on a shirt at some point while I was cleaning and I hated to admit I felt a little disappointed. He looked damn good shirtless....
"I spoke with Judge Harrison," Jonah said seriously, setting the soggy sponge in the sink. "I was concerned about your father's will and the custody of the twins," he explained.
"Dad's will names me," I said, knowing he already knew that. "What's the problem?"
"Well, because you are still technically under my protection under the law, it puts a wrench in things a little," he said with a wince.
I immediately vaulted to my feet. "What do you mean a wrench?" I demanded.
"Hold on," he held up two placating hands, "No one is taking them away," he assured me. "Your parents were explicit about their desire to keep their children in Sinclair Falls in the care of family, and the most recent amendment is quite firm about naming you as guardian in the case of Otto's death."
"Okay, so—what's the problem? Why need the judge?" I scowled. I didn't like where the conversation seemed to be headed.
"Well, one of two things will happen," Jonah continued with a little sigh. He held out his hands like he was weighing the options in his palms. "Either I revoke my right of protectorship and you remain the sole guardian for the twins—" I could tell by his face he didn't like that option one bit. "Or," he continued, shifting his weight to his other foot. "The contract remains in place and the legal guardianship of the twins defaults to me, technically."
"I would have no legal rights with my own siblings?" I scowled.
"You would—" he corrected me. "Guardianship would be sort of...joint, but...different." I gave him a glare indicating he made no sense whatsoever. "It's like this—you take care of them, and I take care of you."
"If A equals B, and B equals C, then A also equals C," I translated.
"Exactly," he nodded.
"And there's no other options?" I asked, feeling rather ungrateful but having to voice the question nevertheless.
"Well..." he hesitated. "The third scenario is more for future reference sort of thing."
"What do you mean?" I pressed. "Just tell me."
"The third scenario is that the two of us are married and it becomes a true joint-custody situation," he said, avoiding my gaze.
"Those are my only options?" I gaped at him.
"Aside from refusing custody entirely and they are turned over to the state," he answered.
"That's never happening!" I said firmly and shooting him a fierce glare.
No way was I giving up my brother and sister to total strangers when I was perfectly capable of caring for them! But under the watchful eye of Jonah? Would he leave them to me or would he demand a say in return for his financial support? I was fairly certain he had no intention of revoking his protectorship over me. Not with everything still so up in the air between us. And with a mysterious dragon on the loose. And a murderer.
"I know," Jonah nodded
. "I told Judge Harrison the same thing," he assured me. "Look, Ev," he sighed. "I know the situation isn't exactly ideal—"
"Ideal!" I exclaimed loudly. "Hah! Ideal would be having my father back—having both my parents back! Ideal would be going back to the way it was when we were a family, back before my dreams were shattered by death, before my father gambled away his life and then sold his debt to you with me as your reward—before life fucking blew up in my face and turned inside out and topsy-turvy! Ideal!" I screeched again, throwing my hands in the air. "You wanna talk ideal—Ideal would be anything but this!" I cried, my voice cracking on the last word.
I sat down on the lid of the toilet and dropped my head in my hands, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and tried to take deep, even breaths and failing, the silence hanging in the air almost as suffocating as my grief.
After an eternity, Jonah spoke again. "You can't go back, Evelyn," he said softly. "I'm sorry life has been so disappointing for you—that I've been so disappointing for you—but you can't go back. You can only try and move forward."
I knew he was right—and I hated that he was right. I also knew I hurt his feelings with what I said, but I didn't have the courage to apologize for it.
Silence fell between us again for several minutes and I wanted to leave, but didn't want to have to push past Jonah—didn't want to feel his burning touch dissolve my anger until all that was left was a soggy puddle of tears at his feet. I couldn't give in; I had to be strong. I had to be. After all, what else did I have left?
"Hobbs called earlier," Jonah said quietly after a while. "He wants us both to go down and give an official statement—about your dad and the fire and everything."
"Yeah, okay," I murmured.
"I told him we'd be by this afternoon," Jonah added.
"Okay," I nodded. I kept staring at the floor tiles, unable to meet his gaze. He hesitated a few moments longer before turning away without further comment.
I couldn't think about Jonah and how I hurt his feelings. I couldn't think about my father and what happened that led to his death. I couldn't think about the dragons or the bears or any other paranormal thing. I couldn't think about any of it—so I cleaned.
I couldn't face Dad's office or his bedroom. And I couldn't confront Jonah again yet over the mess that was our weird sort-of-relationship. So, eventually, I ended up in Addis and Ava's room, sitting on one bed watching them play—and argue over—their video games. At one point between games, Ava looked up at me sadly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Dad," she told me. "But there was so much going on for you—"
"It's okay," I assured her with a sad but encouraging smile. "How long have you known?" I asked curiously.
"Since yesterday morning," she answered. "They told me at the park."
"Did they tell you anything else?" I hated to drag them into the murder thing but I had to know what her friends knew. "About dad and his death?"
"No," she shook her head. "They just said to look in the office," she said with a confused shrug.
"Office? For what?"
Ava shrugged. "I dunno, that's all they said—Oh, and they wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding about the dragon," she added. A few seconds later her focus was diverted again by Addis, challenging her to the next game.
The office? What did they expect me to find there? Jonah already found the will and all the other important documents, but Dad hadn't used the room for business since Mom died. The rest of it was a disorganized mess of junk—namely, anything he couldn't sell for extra gambling money. If her friends were pointing us that direction, there had to be something, right? I mean, they wouldn't say it unless it was important.... Of course, the real question wasn't what I'd find but if I had the strength to go there in the first place. Jonah was in there. Dad's memory was in there. I wasn't sure I could face either one of them.
So instead I went downstairs and plopped down onto the couch, pulling out my phone for distraction, avoiding them both.
But I couldn't run from Dad there, either. My phone still had one unopened voicemail I never listened to at lunch by the waterfall. The number was unfamiliar, but the voice was undeniably my father.
"Evie, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through—really I am. I know—I know you'll never forgive me, but I want you to know I'm trying! I'm trying to make it up to you, Evie. I need to be better for you and for the twins—I want to be better! I can't—I can't talk right now, sweetie, but I want you to know I love you. I love you, Evie, and I'm trying...trying to fix what I broke, okay? I love you!"
I stared at the screen for a long time while fat tears rolled down my face. The screen eventually went dark and the disconnected tone filled the room but still I stared at the phone in my hand, bawling like it was my father in front of me saying all those things. Why was the world such a cruel, unfair place—taking my father away only to dangle his last words in my face?
"Evie?" Greg said hesitantly from the kitchen doorway.
I didn't answer him. Instead I stood and made my way to the office, blinded by my own tears and followed on my heels by Greg. Jonah was behind the desk when I opened the door and he blinked up at me in surprise when he saw me standing there, holding my phone up.
"Ev? What's wrong?" he asked.
I crossed the room and set the phone on the desk, littered with papers Jonah was sifting through. I replayed the voicemail on speaker so they could both hear it, sinking into one of the torn chairs on the opposite side of the desk as I listened to my father's voice again, telling me he loved me.
"Oh my god," Greg murmured when it ended.
"Well, that explains all of this then," Jonah sighed, gesturing to the array of documents splayed all over the desk.
"Wha—what are you talking about?" I blubbered. "What is all that?"
"It's a little bit of everything," Jonah shrugged. "A letter to his old company, dated yesterday—" he lifted up a piece of paper, "A college brochure—" he pointed to a colorful pamphlet, "copies of pages from law books about contracts and contesting right of protectorship—"
"Oh my god," I gasped. "He was really going to do it!" I exclaimed, my hands flying to my mouth in my shock. "He was really going to try and fix it—Oh, Daddy!" I cried, dropping to my knees beside the desk. "Why is it always too little too late with you?" I whispered. I leaned my head against the wood of the desk like it was my father and he was going to reach out and wrap his arms around me in a great big hug...he used to give great hugs.
"So..." Greg frowned at the paperwork Jonah was going over. "If he was trying to get straight..." he picked up a thicker stack of papers stapled together then dropped it back on the desk. "What went wrong?" he asked.
"That's what I'd like to know," Jonah agreed. "A good start would be finding out who that damn green dragon is," he muttered. "He owes me a house."
"He owes me a father," I echoed.
"We need to show all this to Hobbs," Greg said, gesturing to the desk.
"They'll probably want to go through the whole office," Jonah replied. "There's junk stuffed everywhere, but there are papers and ledgers and records tucked away too. I came across some of it while searching for the legal docs, but didn't look at any of it more than a glance."
"I'll call the station," Greg offered. "Jonah, you—" he glanced at me, still kneeling on the floor next to the desk. "You take care of things in here," he finished awkwardly, then left the room, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
"Ev—"
"This room," I interrupted with a nostalgic sigh. I leaned back to lay on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling. "It's so full of Dad," I said. "I can still smell him here, Jonah. I can almost feel his presence, hovering over the desk and perusing through his bookshelves. He used to spend hours in this room working and all I ever wanted to do was be in here with him." I laughed, remembering my five-year-old self coloring ponies while he worked. "Sometimes he would lay on the carpet with me," I mused aloud, "his stack of file
s next to my coloring books. He used one of my crayons once when his highlighter went out," I smiled.
"He sounds like a fun dad," Jonah commented. He grunted a little as he got on the floor and laid next to me.
"I got my first lesson in law on this floor," I recalled. "Bill of Rights," I chuckled. "He had them printed on pages and stapled together like a book and read them to me like it was a bedtime story. I, of course, drew all over the pages until it was difficult to read the words, but we both knew them by heart."
"I like it," Jonah chuckled. "Bill of Rights, Junior. We'll have to make a second edition for our kids someday," he commented, then his laughter stopped short when he realized what he said. "I didn't mean—I just—" he stumbled.
"It's okay, Jonah," I assured him. "You don't have to apologize for your feelings. Besides," I scoffed. "I'm slowly warming up to you," I admitted. "Just don't go getting ahead of yourself," I warned, poking him in the side in playful threat.
