by J. D. Dexter
The dark, murky colors of her Spectrum are eating at her. There’s not even a speck of lighter colors visible. Everything I can see is so dark it’s basically shifting shades of black. Waves and waves of soul-eating pain and anguish.
From behind the barrier, I can still feel her emotions, but they’re muted and indistinct. Pushing some of my adira towards her, I see the pulsing centers of her emotional trauma. The pieces of her that are in the worst shape, the ones about to break under the strain.
“Abby, I can take some of your pain away. Is that okay with you?” I ask her quietly.
I made a vow not to meddle in other people’s emotions to this degree once I found out I was capable of it. I almost destroyed Hunter’s and my relationship because I thought I was helping him. It was the single biggest fight we’ve ever had.
I see her head move, but I’m not sure if she’s answering me or still shuddering from emotional pain.
I look at Hunter, my eyes wide. He nods his head, knowing I need her to make a verbal comment either way.
“She needs to hear you say it, Mom. Please, she just wants to help you,” Hunter murmurs, leaning down to speak in her ear.
“Please, Finley,” she says between hiccups that sounds like they hurt.
Sending steady streams of slowly pulsing adira towards the epicenters of her emotional pain, I make sure to keep an eye on them as they accept the healing energy. I’ve only experienced this once as the receiver.
Kezi had found me after the blowup with Hunter. I was inconsolable. Every emotion I had was amplified until it felt like I was huge ball of raw emotion. It felt like she laid a glaze down on me. Like coating a pan in cooking oil before you put it in the oven; the food still cooks, but doesn’t stick to the pan.
I coat Abby’s wounds in a thin shell of adira. She can still feel them, but they aren’t devastating. She should still be able to access them. This just gives her a buffer of deciding when and how she heals.
Slowly, like watching molasses slide from the jar, her tears and quivering begin to subside. She’s able to breathe without shaking her chest or jolting in Hunter’s strong arms. She quiets, simply resting her head against his lower chest instead of trying to burrow into him.
As I watch, Hunter leans down and whispers to her. Too low for me to hear, I see their faces ease into heavy smiles. Hunter’s eyes are dry, but bruised, his cheeks a little sunken in his face. Abby is blessed to be a pretty crier. Except for some smeared mascara tracks down her face, she looks winter-kissed instead of wrecked.
Reggie shuffles back into the room, a tray of glasses and a pitcher of tea in his hands. I step over and take the tray from him, putting it down on the sturdy coffee table in the middle of the room. He smiles at me before pulling me into his arms.
“Thank you for helping my Abby-girl.” He kisses my head. “You’re a good girl.”
My eyes mist. I blink hard a couple of times before pulling back from him. “I’m glad I was able to do it.” I lean forward and kiss his cheek.
He blushes, the rosy color filling his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
He steps back and shoos me back to the couch.
Abby and Hunter are still whispering to each other, their voices a gentle sussurus in the quiet room. Reggie gets the tea poured and sets out glasses for everyone on the coffee table.
Right as Reggie straightens, Hunter pulls back from Abby, searches her face, and nods. He kisses both cheeks before running his hands down her dark brown hair.
“Love you, Mom. Always and forever.” He gently kisses her lips before coming back and sitting on the couch next to me.
Abby wipes her cheeks, a few stray tears escaping, as she stands in front of me. Using Hunter’s knee as leverage, I get to my feet. She folds me into her arms, crushing me in a fabulous mom-hug.
I choke down the lump in my throat. I’ve missed mom-hugs, and man, can this dainty woman hand them out. She buries her head in my chest.
“Be careful, you don’t want to suffocate,” I warn her, a laugh in my voice.
Her startled laughter booms through the room, the edges shaky and watery. She tips her head back and lets loose.
Reggie’s laugh joins hers, a perfect blend of tones.
Hunter’s chuckle a soft bass to fill out the melody of joy after the torrent of pain.
“Thank you, Finley. For more than you can imagine,” Abby says, her laughter easing away.
“Like I told Reggie, I’m just glad I could help.”
She gives me another squeeze before stepping back and retaking her seat next to Reggie, who hands her a glass of tea.
“Not to dampen the mood, but you said you thought you saw the short, happy man again while you were in the hospital?” Hunter begins.
Abby nods before taking a couple swallows of tea. She leans her head against Reggie’s shoulder, looking like she’s aged years in the past hour.
“That’s right. We’d just found out that Franklin wasn’t related to you biologically. He went home to sleep. I was in the hospital bed next to you for the night. They’d given you something to help you sleep, and you were conked out in less than ten minutes.” She takes another swallow of her drink.
“Whatever they gave me was just beginning to pull me under. That place where you don’t know if you’re awake or just dreaming? That’s how I felt when I thought I saw him. He walked up to your bed, his cherub cheeks no longer smiling. He looked so sad.”
She takes a deep breath. “He turned to me and said, ‘I feared this might happen. There’s no need to cry. You won’t lose him, Abigail. I promise.’ Then he laid his hands on your body: one on your head, one on your belly. A flash of light filled the room. It was so bright I had to close my eyes. As I opened them again, he was gone.”
“The next day, all of your symptoms and pain had stopped. You were kept for one more day for observation, but you were completely healed. The doctors and nursing staff were so confused. I heard one nurse call it a miracle. We were both discharged on the third day. Franklin came to get us and took us home.”
“That’s when all the strained silences started,” Hunter says, his voice faraway.
“Yes. Franklin convinced me to do genetic testing on Chase. He said he wanted to make sure Chase was healthy and doing well developmentally. But I think he also asked the doctors to run a paternity test on him. He came back from the office one day and apologized for all the stress he’d put me through. He treated me like a princess. Until Chase died.”
“That’s when he left,” Hunter says, his voice hard.
Abby simply nods.
“Did you ever investigate with the IVF clinic about mixed up samples?” Hunter asks after a short, tense silence.
“No. You were healthy, Franklin had left, and I was trying to rebuild my life. Then I found Reggie and it never dawned on me again.” She shrugs. “I only remembered the happy angel once you said Ankarrah.”
I feel a spark of electricity run through my body. “Why do you call him ‘the happy angel?’”
“Because that’s what he is. He was my, and Hunter’s, guardian angel. Hunter wouldn’t be here without his influence or input.” She looks at me like a I’m a little crazy.
I turn to look at Hunter. My disbelief reflected in his eyes.
“And this short, happy man called me your blonde angel?” Hunter asks, his voice tight once again.
“Yes, in the grocery store.” She taps her finger to her lips. “No, that’s not quite right. He said something close to that. Let me think. Hearing you say it back to me doesn’t sound right.”
Her eyes close and her nose scrunches.
Reggie rubs his hand up and down her arm absently as he looks over at me. A definitely twinkle lights his eyes. “Have you actually suffocated someone in your bosom, Finley?” he asks.
I almost spit a mouthful of tea out my nose at his question.
Laughing, I reply, “No, Reggie. But she’s a good burrower. I didn’t want her to risk it.” I wink at him.
/>
His cheeks and ears turn rosy again. He sends a sly glance at Hunter. A quick wiggle of eyebrows, and we’re all laughing once again.
Abby startles, thrusting one finger into the air on a jab, she proclaims, “Ashen angel. He called you ‘my ashen angel.’”
Crap, crap, crap.
37
“You both look like your favorite toy has been tossed into the trash after being brutally dismembered,” Reggie says.
His words strike at my heart. I feel my shoulders hunch up around my ears.
“Do we tell them?” I ask Hunter mentally.
He heaves a sigh. “I think we have to. Otherwise they’ll start to ask questions we can’t afford. I don’t want them in danger by being curious.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and clears his throat. “Mom, when I went missing, Finley and I were kidnapped.”
Both Reggie and Abby gasp. Shock and disbelief plainly written on their faces.
Hunter and I delve into the story covering the most important points. Between questions, recriminations, and interruptions, it takes us close to two hours to tell his parents everything. By the end, I’m starving and need to pee, and Reggie and Abby look like they’ve been run over repeatedly by a Mack truck.
Hunter’s voice is hoarse, and we’ve gone through two pitchers of tea.
A muted ringing sounds in the heavy silence. I rummage around in my purse, resorting to dumping it out on the coffee table to find my phone.
I find it right as the ringing stops. I hit a couple of buttons and call Brian back.
“Finley-babe, what’s the deal? Where are you guys?”
“We’re still at Reggie and Abby’s. We’ve just let them in on everything.”
A low whistle comes through the line. “They okay?”
“Jury’s still out. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Okay, we’re getting dinner ready. Let us know if you make other plans. Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too. Bye.” We hang up.
I turn to look at Hunter. “The gang’s getting dinner ready. Do you think we should invite your parents over, so they can see what’s going on? Kezi and Brock might have more questions for them.”
“What about Kuni?”
“We’ve already let them know that we have at least two different species frequently at your house. It’s not like we can go back on what we just shared with them now.”
He glares at me. I blow him a kiss.
He clears his throat and turns back to his parents. “Hey guys, Finley’s family and our friends are back at the house. They’re getting dinner ready. Do you want to meet them? Ask them any questions? They might have questions for you too.”
He lets the invitation hang in the air.
Reggie and Abby look a little like fish out of water; their mouths gaping open and closed, their eyes open but blind.
“Mom?”
She shuts her mouth with a click. “Yes, Hunter. I think that would be a good idea.”
She turns to Reggie. “Honey. Does that work for you?”
He nods, his eyes still unfocused.
She looks at us. “That works for us. Why don’t you head back to your house now, and we’ll follow as soon as we get ourselves together?”
Hunter and I rise to our feet. “That works,” Hunter says, pulling his mom into his arms.
“See you after a bit.” He kisses her cheek.
“Yes,” she says. Leaning in to give her a hug, she pets my hair. “Thank you for saving my son.”
“I finally found him; I’m not letting him go. Not if it’s within my power to save him.”
Her smile is blinding. She glances at Hunter, “Don’t let this one get away.”
“That’s the plan.” He wraps his arm around my waist.
“See you there.”
***
“Okay, everyone on your best behavior,” I say as Hunter and I head towards the front door from the kitchen.
“Oh please. We’re always on our best behavior,” Brian calls after us.
A series of snorts and laughs follow his words.
“Come in, Mom, Reggie.” Hunter steps back and lets them pass through.
“We brought wine,” Reggie says, lifting the bottle.
“That’s great. Thanks, Reggie.” I take it from him and lead the way into the kitchen.
“Everyone, this is Reginal and Abigail Rightencroft,” I begin.
“Oh, please. Everyone, please, call me Reggie.” He wraps his arm around Abby. “This is my better half, Abby.”
A chorus of hellos and waves from the far side of the kitchen. “This big brute-slash-teddy-bear is Brian, and his better-looking brother, Brent.”
Brian glares at me, a promise of revenge in his eyes. Brent just chuckles and they both move forward to shake hands.
Abby looks like a pretty doll next to the massive Brian. Her cheeks flush when Brent picks up her hand and kisses her knuckles.
Reggie chuckles and waves him away.
“This Keziry and Brockten. They’re both Ankarrahi.” I motion towards them.
Clicking their heels together, they both bend at the waist, tapping their right index fingers to their foreheads. Straightening, they step over and shake Reggie’s and Abby’s hands.
“I have so many questions for you,” Reggie says, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“We’d be more than happy to answer them,” Kezi says.
“I’d also like to introduce Kuni,” I say to Reggie and Abby. “Like we told you at your house, since going to Ankarrah, we’ve met a number of sentient and intelligent races. Some don’t look anything like humans. Kuni is a Bulcepts, and her people are the ancient knowledge keepers of the known multi-verse, or KMV.” I look into their eyes to make sure they understand what I’m saying.
Abby looks overwhelmed, but game.
Reggie is practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Come on out, Kuni,” I raise my voice.
The slight squishing noise of Kuni walking across the tiles precedes her into the room. Her shark-shaped hard shell and her soft underbelly come into view.
Reggie and Abby suck in breaths, the sound loud in the quiet.
Abby shuffles back, edging behind Reggie ever so slightly. He steps forward and leans down.
“Nice to meet you, Kuni. I have many questions for you as well.”
She honks quietly, her eyes alight with happiness. “I’d be pleased to answer whatever I can.”
Abby squeaks, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
“I promise not to bite,” Kuni says carefully, backing up a couple of steps.
Hunter nudges Abby in the back. She almost falls over. Catching herself on Reggie, she turns her head and glares at Hunter. Hunter gives her a reproving glance and tips his head towards Kuni.
Abby turns back around, a guilty look on her face. “I apologize, Kuni. You took me by surprise. I’m very happy to meet you as well.” Abby doesn’t lean down, but she does stop hiding behind Reggie.
Kuni nods at her and draws a circle with her left front paw.
Hunter leans down and whispers in Abby’s ear. She taps her left index finger to her forehead. Hunter leans forward again, whispering.
Abby blushes, and repeats the motion with her right index finger. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” everyone says in unison.
Kuni smiles widely, flashing her razor-sharp teeth at the room.
Hunter leans down, this time in a hurry, and speaks to Abby. Her smile is a little wobbly, but she manages more than a grimace.
“Let’s eat!” Brian declares.
***
“So Hunter really thought you were Keziry?” Reggie asks after dinner has been cleaned from the table.
“Yeah. I’d forgotten that I changed into her shape before coming back from Kuni’s home world.” I send another apology look to Hunter.
“I just can’t even imagine,” Abby says.
I look at Kezi and Brock. They give me a nod.
Between one blink and the next, Kezi and Brock look like Reggie and Abby. I’ve transformed myself into Hunter.
Noise erupts from around the table. The highest shriek from Brian, who was about to kiss Kezi’s cheek. He stopped milliseconds from kissing Kezi/Reggie.
“Is that really what I look like right now?” Abby sounds embarrassed. “Good heavens. Why didn’t anyone tell me I look like I’ve been on a week-long binder?” She whacks Reggie in the arm.
He barely notices, his eyes glued to those who have transformed. “That’s amazing,” he whispers in awe.
Changing back into ourselves, Kezi, Brock, and I all wink at Reggie. He claps his hands like a little kid, and vibrates in his seat. “That’s wonderful!”
I smile at the joy in his face. This man is still willing to be impressed with life. I love that about him. I blow him a kiss, watching as the blush fills his cheeks.
“Could you describe the man, Abby? The short, happy man?” Kuni asks, killing the mood like she dropped a bomb.
Abby shakes her head a couple of times. “Of…of course. Sorry, you caught me off-guard.”
I glare at Kuni. She just rolls her eyes.
“He was a couple inches shorter than I am. I’m five feet, six inches. He had round, red cheeks. Happy, silvery, blue eyes that seemed to twinkle. His midsection was quite round. A bald pate with a smattering of hair around the edges with a bushy mustache.” Abby opens her eyes again.
“He sounds like a shorter, less hairy version of Santa Claus,” Brian offers.
Brent rolls his eyes.
“What? He does,” Brian insists, sounding defensive.
“That’s an excellent description,” Abby nods at him. “He also reminds me of the king from the animated Cinderella movie by Disney. The short, fat man who yells a lot.”
I do a quick Google search for a picture, unable to see it in my mind. I turn the phone to Abby. “Yes, that’s almost exactly him. He had more silvery hair than white, but yes, that’s him.”
I turn the phone to Kezi and Brock. Their eyes widen, a look of shock entering their gazes. Kezi blinks a couple of times, then leans in closer to the phone.
