(Mis)fortune (Judgement of the Six Book 2)

by Melissa Haag

  Liam and Aden raced downstairs to bug Emmitt and Jim, and I absently followed. How I could smoothly pass along the information without being obvious?

  The humidity from the day before still lingered. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I sat in the shade of the porch. Jim eyed our glistening faces and ran into town, returning with a sprinkler. The boys squealed with excitement once he explained its purpose. Another first for them.

  I watched them from the porch, not feeling up to joining in the fun. Emmitt stayed close, watching me. I struggled to hide any visible sign of the worry I felt as the ticker continued to run.

  Nana stepped onto the porch, making her first appearance of the day. She held her cordless phone to her ear.

  “Michelle, I have my friend on the phone from last week. He wanted to thank you for your recommendation, which looks really good so far, and he wanted me to ask if you had any other advice.”

  I stared at her for a moment, thinking. This was perfect, but I couldn’t just spew out the information again with Emmitt watching so closely.

  “Uh, I haven’t looked at the paper, yet. If we have one, I can take a look at it. Maybe you could give your friend a call back later this afternoon?”

  I hoped it would look like I had researched the information and had just been very lucky. I would have to figure out something else for the next one, though. Three in a row wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  Nana nodded and disappeared inside as she conveyed the message. She came back a moment later with the paper.

  * * * *

  The next morning, the boys excitedly ran downstairs. I had no reason not to let them terrorize the neighbors. Aden came back up a minute later crying because Jim had already left for work.

  To console him, I suggested we cook for Jim. Aden perked up at the prospect. We decided on some cookies. While we measured out the flour, Nana knocked on the door.

  “Good morning, Michelle. Liam mentioned he didn’t know the ABC song. Would you mind if they spent some time with me a few times a week so I can work on their alphabet with them?”

  I stared at her as a horrible, sinking guilt made me shrink inside. My brothers had been denied so much. As soon as they could speak, they hadn’t left the house, and their care had fully fallen to me. Defiance on my part had meant a lock down for all of us. When locked in our separate rooms, they went without food or contact, except for each other. David hadn’t liked kids and only tolerated them outside of their room when they kept quiet. I’d taught them basic things that applied to our caged life at the time but hadn’t thought of teaching them more.

  Something must have shown on my face because Nana stepped further into the apartment, looking concerned.

  “There’s nothing wrong with them not knowing the ABC’s, yet. Four and five is just the right age to start learning. I have so many of my old materials left, and, frankly, I miss working with children. I thought I would offer.”

  Emmitt’s comment came back to me. Who better to teach them than a teacher? I reluctantly nodded and promised to send Aden down as soon as we finished the cookies. He felt strongly that he needed to help make them for Jim.

  When he tromped downstairs a while later, I sighed. As much as they drove me nuts, they also kept me company. With nothing else to do, I lounged on the couch and read the book I’d borrowed. Their enthusiastic singing echoed the halls as the oven warmed the apartment to unbearable. Baking cookies in summer was not a good idea.

  Sweating, I tossed the book aside and changed into my swimsuit. I opened all the windows and doors to let out the heat. When I opened the French doors to the porch, a nice breeze shifted past me, and I stepped outside. Protected by the overhanging roof, shade cooled the wooden deck. I stood there for a moment letting the wind tease my skin and realized I’d found the perfect place to read.

  I went back inside, took the last batch of cookies from the oven, then grabbed my book and blanket. The porch didn’t just give me a cool place to read. It also muffled the boys’ boisterous singing. I relaxed on the blanket and enjoyed the breeze.

  An hour later, Emmitt stepped onto the porch from the door of the adjoining apartment. I glanced up from the book. When he saw me, he paused. He was laden with paint cans, rollers, and plastic and looked like he could use a hand.

  “Let me help,” I said, jumping up. I took two of the cans from his hands and smiled up at him.

  His face flushed. He swallowed hard and glanced down at what I wore.

  I pretended not to notice his reaction and lifted a can. “What are you doing with all of this?”

  He met my eyes again, and his voice was rough when he spoke.

  “The outside needs painting, too. I thought I’d start on it while the paint dried in there.”

  He gave me one last look, turned, and walked to the far corner of the porch where he set down the painting supplies.

  “Is the apartment almost done?” I asked as I trailed behind him. I set the two cans next to his pile.

  “I still need to work on some plumbing, but its close. Want to see it?” he said, looking at me once more. The flush had faded, but he was careful to maintain eye contact. The steady look made it hard to pretend I didn’t feel underdressed.

  “That’s okay.”

  “I could actually use your input on the colors in the bathroom. Nana bought a variety of cans on clearance, and I’m down to a yellow and a grey.”

  The idea of talking about paint colors shouldn’t have caused my stomach to dip or a pink flush to spread across my skin. Yet, it did. I pushed down the jitters, resisted the urge to tug at the edges of the bikini top, and nodded.

  He smiled at me. His dimple made my heart stop. He extended a hand to indicate I should lead. I turned and walked to the apartment’s porch entrance. The door led into a large, open-concept living room and kitchen. Thick, clear plastic covered the beige carpet immediately inside the door, protecting it from paint spills. White speckles already decorated it from painting the ceiling. He had painted the wall dividing the living room and kitchen from the rest of the apartment a dark brown. A warm, light brown coated the remaining walls. The main door to the apartment was located just inside the kitchen area where the beige carpet transitioned into large earth-toned tiles.

  “Wow. This looks great.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said quietly. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

  He led me to the hallway where an orphaned toilet waited for installation. He stopped just outside the bathroom door.

  “We can’t go in. The grout is still wet, but you can see the colors in the tile from here.”

  He moved aside so I could lean against the wall and peek into the room.

  In the process of leaning forward to look, I knocked over a loose piece of molding. It tipped inward toward the newly grouted floor. I didn’t even have time to wince before Emmitt snapped it out of the air, impossibly fast. The move reminded me of our differences, and a tiny bit of fear grew in the pit of my stomach as I recalled how quickly Frank had leapt over the table to claim his right to scent me first.

  A shudder ran through me.

  “Don’t,” Emmitt whispered hoarsely.

  I turned to him, confused.

  “You are the one person who will never have to fear me.”

  Fear him, why would he say that? Usually, I just felt confused. Like now. The only time I felt fear around him, I’d ended up kicking him in the...

  “I’m sorry I kneed you.”

  He reached out and gently touched my cheek, feathering his fingertips over it from temple to jaw. My heart started to beat faster.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured as he moved closer.

  I glanced down at his lips. My breath hitched. I looked up, and I couldn’t think. His deep blue eyes held me in place, waiting, anticipating. His head lowered. My lips parted.

  “And I’m sorry I missed it,” Jim said from the living room, startling me.

  Emmitt’s hand dropped back to his side, and his eye
s flicked down the hall in annoyance.

  Free of the spell, I put some space between us, tried to calm my thundering hear, and peeked at the bathroom one more time.

  “The yellow won’t work, but the grey might. Too bad you didn’t have a blue-grey to match the flecking in the tile.”

  I kept my eyes locked on the bathroom, not wanting to explore what might be in Emmitt’s gaze. He apparently hadn’t understood my friendship speech as well as I’d hoped. He needed to be the strong one and stay away from me, because I had very little willpower when it came to him.

  “Thank you,” Emmitt said.

  I nodded and led the way down the hallway, thankful for Jim’s intervention.

  “Why are you here, Jim?” Emmitt said before we reached the end.

  “Aden mentioned something about cookies...” Jim’s words trailed off as I stepped into view. Then, he wolf-whistled.

  “I regret my decision to think of you as a sister,” he said with a grin. “Nana can sure pick a suit. I think you should really wear a t-shirt over that, though.”

  “Shut up, Jim,” Emmitt said flatly behind me.

  I blushed and kept walking toward the porch door. Emmitt and Jim stayed behind in the apartment. I could hear their low, murmured voices as I picked up my blanket and book.

  In that moment before Jim interrupted us, Emmitt had wrapped me in his spell. I’d wanted nothing more than his kiss. Nana’s comment about shallow connections rang in my ears. While the boys played school with Nana, I vowed I’d use that time to learn, too. Time to start Werewolf 101. Tomorrow.

  * * * *

  After Nana collected the boys for their morning lessons, I grabbed a cookie and went to search out Emmitt. He wasn’t hard to find. I followed the sound of a quick, metallic rasp outside on the porch. Paint flakes decorated the decking by our doors. Free of loose paint, the third floor of the back of the house awaited its turn at rejuvenation.

  Turning the far corner, I almost ran into Emmitt and smashed the cookie between us. His quick reflexes caught me and robbed me of the cookie. Grinning, he took a bite before he offered it back.

  “I actually brought it for you,” I said.

  His face lost a little of its playfulness. He tilted his head, studying me with a silent question.

  “Will you tell me about your family?” I reached for the nearby broom. “Please.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything. Everything.” I shrugged. My stomach was in knots. I wanted to know, but I didn’t.

  “My dad’s side is from Canada. My mom, from the states. They met when she was pretty young. The way my dad tells it, it was love at first sight. My mom just rolls her eyes.” He grinned at me between brisk scrapes. He made quick progress, stripping the boards of paint. I struggled to keep up with him as I trailed behind with the broom.

  “My dad’s brother lives in Canada with them at the Compound.”

  I stopped sweeping and looked at him.

  “It’s a collection of old buildings; the community I grew up in. It has been struggling for decades to support itself while keeping away from the corrupt influences of the outside world,” he said with a hint of humor.

  “Corrupt?”

  He quickly swiped around the window. “Some believed that humans would lead the world to devastation through their wars, pollution, and overpopulation. They thought, by withdrawing from it, they could save themselves.”

  “The day my mom showed up, about thirty years ago, changed the direction they’d been headed. She made them see they were hurting themselves by hiding from the truth. They’d created their own distrust by not learning about the changes they were scorning and made it harder for future generations to rejoin the world. That’s part of the reason they sent me back here to live with Nana Wini.

  “The more of us who leave to learn about the world, the better it is for others when we go back and share what we learned. The money we earn doesn’t hurt, either. Part of the reason I know what I’m doing here is because I grew up helping with this kind of work back home.”

  We rounded the corner, and he began scraping on the front of the house. Behind us, I left neat little piles of paint chips.

  “My mom started making improvements as soon as there was money, and she hasn’t stopped. People actually have beds to sleep in now.” He looked at me after he said the last piece as if he wanted to take it back.

  How horrible to be so poor that there wasn’t even beds to sleep in. After Blake appeared in my life, I’d found the opulence of Richard’s house distasteful as it represented a way of life I wanted nothing to do with. Clothes, food, an exercise room. Everything had been high-end and bought at the price of my freedom. I’d run from it, willingly risking a potential future without beds, warmth, or food, to save us all from a worse fate. And poverty would have happened, if not for Emmitt.

  I reined in my thoughts. “So the remodeling inside, the painting outside, you learned all this from your mom?”

  He nodded, looking adorable with paint flakes dusting his hair. “Can I ask you a question now?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. I didn’t promise to answer it, though.

  “Will you tell me about your stepfather?”

  I sighed and stopped sweeping again, remembering how it’d been in the beginning. “It was just me and my mom until after my thirteenth birthday. She met Richard through a friend of a friend.”

  “Richard?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  I nodded and realized I’d never mentioned Richard by name before. “He was nice. He treated my mom well, and I think he really loved her. Then, things changed.” Things I wasn’t ready to share with Emmitt.

  My premonitions had struck. I hadn’t understood what I’d been seeing and wrote it down on paper to show my mom. By that time, they had married and were expecting their first child. Richard had found the paper and known what it was. He’d been amused by what I’d written, but after seeing the accuracy of my predictions, he’d started to use them. He hadn’t demanded anything from me, just said I could give them to him when I thought of any more.

  Everything had been fine for a while. We’d moved into a better house, the one in the gated community. We’d been happy. Liam was born, time passed, I went to school, had friends, went on my first parent-supervised date, and my mom got pregnant again.

  I wasn’t sure how Richard got involved with Blake, but he had; and Blake had started coming to dinner. My mom had disliked him immediately. Seeing past events clearly for the first time, I understood how much Blake had truly controlled our lives. It had started with my mom’s death. An accidental death that I could now see wasn’t so accidental. Blake had killed her just as he had Richard. After she died, Richard had become Blake’s lackey.

  “How did they change?” Emmitt asked quietly, watching me closely.

  I’d daydreamed through half the front of the house. I shook myself and finished sweeping quickly.

  “My mom died just after Aden was born,” I said softly, remembering how alone I’d felt. “Richard shut us away from the world for four years.”

  Emmitt had stopped scrapping and studied me closely.

  “Richard. Then, who’s Blake?”

  With Blake’s identity firmly glued to my secret, at least in my head, I couldn’t talk about him without everything spilling out. I didn’t want to tempt Emmitt with the power he could gain by possessing my premonitions. I didn’t want him to turn out like Blake.

  “I have to check on the boys,” I said in a rush. I leaned the broom against the wall and fled.

  I sequestered myself with my brothers for the rest of the day. The other occupants of the house let me be.

  Chapter 9

  Emmitt knocked on my door the afternoon following our talk. The boys were outside playing, and I was alone. I quietly backed away from the door. It seemed every time we spent time alone, I let too much slip. We needed distance. I needed distance. So, I snuck to the bathroom and avoided him with the skill of a master t
hief.

  After his footsteps faded in the hallway, I risked a quick look out the bathroom door. The sunlit pattern of the French doors on the kitchen floor caught my eye. The island blocked a good portion of it, but not the top half. The shadow of a man drifted through the bright patch. I spent the afternoon reading on the toilet.

  It proved more difficult to avoid Emmitt the following day. He stood outside the apartment door when the boys ran out in the morning. Stunned by his unexpected appearance, I gapped at him for a moment before my brain kicked in.

  “I have to take a shower,” I said in a rush then slammed the door in his face.

  I stayed under the hot spray until my fingers pruned, then I crept around the apartment, stealthily checking the windows and doors. When time passed without spotting Emmitt, I changed into my swimsuit and grabbed a book. No more toilet reading. My legs had gone numb the day before. I eased open the French doors and tiptoed onto the porch.

  The warm summer air surrounded me, and I took a slow, deep breath and shook out my blanket.

  “Michelle?”

  The sound of his voice directly behind me almost made me scream. Heart hammering, I clutched the blanket to my chest and spun to face him. My master thief skills were more like apprentice level. I caught a glimpse of his hurt expression before he smoothed his features into a carefree mask of indifference.

  “I need to go into town for more paint soon. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and help pick out the color.” His eyes held mine as he spoke. He stood a few feet from me, wearing paint splattered cargo shorts and an equally colorful printed shirt. A brush hung from a loop on his shorts.

  I didn’t answer immediately, and he tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting. My stomach did its weird flutter. After talking to Nana, it felt more like a tug. It made me nervous all over again. Why did I react like that to him? It had to be the reason I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth shut.