by S. J. West
“Are you ok?” I ask him, assuming something must have spooked him during the night, and he’s simply seeking sanctuary.
“I know I won’t get to spend a lot of time with you before I have to leave,” he tells me. “We probably won’t see each other again until you and dad finish your mission, and we can all be a family.”
“Lucas,” I say a warning in my voice. “Please don’t get your hopes up. Your dad’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me after we complete our mission.”
“You can change his mind,” Lucas says full of confidence. “Tomorrow we’re gonna start Operation Family.”
Dear Lord, could this kid get any cuter? Is it possible for me to love him any more than I do right this moment? I don’t think so.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” I ask him, feeling completely amused by the notion.
Lucas snuggles in next to me, and I wrap my arms around him.
“Lots,” he tells me, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment. “Just you watch. We’ll get dad to smarten up.”
I rest my chin against the top of Lucas’ and smile. I hope my little partner in crime is a miracle worker in disguise because I think that’s what we’ll need.
A miracle…
CHAPTER twenty-two
I wake up the next morning and find Lucas gone from my bed. I immediately sit up and notice that the door to my room is cracked open. In the quiet of the morning, I can hear him giggling somewhere in the house. The deep rumble of Malcolm’s laughter joins Lucas’ and travels into my room, piquing my interest about what the two of them are up to.
I quickly slip off my night shirt and slip on some of the clothes Jered bought me. The clothing is simple and something down-worlders must wear. He bought me a soft, dark pink knit sweater and a pair of blue jeans. The boots are black leather and simple, but hardy enough to get me through any type of weather.
I walk down the stairs to the first floor and follow the sound of their voices until I come to a bright and airy kitchen.
Lucas is standing on a stool by an old fashioned stove with a spatula in his hands. Malcolm, dressed in a pair of jeans and a white button down shirt, looks on in a supervisory role as Lucas flips something cooking in the pan in front of him with the spatula.
Lucas laughs and lifts his arms in the air shouting, “I did it!”
Malcolm chuckles at Lucas’ enthusiasm and looks over at me when he realizes I’m standing in the room.
The laughter in his eyes fades when he sees me, and I’m instantly saddened that just looking at me can accomplish such a task.
I avert my gaze from them and look out the windows on the back side of the house.
“Is that snow?” I ask in amazement. “Real snow?”
“It must have started sometime during the night,” Malcolm answers.
I can’t help but smile and rush out the double doors which lead from the kitchen to a veranda on the back of the house. I walk down the steps from the porch to the backyard which faces the lake. I hold out my hand and let the flakes of snow land there. They don’t melt instantly like the artificial snow in Cirrus did, but they do eventually liquefy. I hold my face up to the gently, falling snow and let it kiss my skin.
“You’re going to get sick just standing out here in what you have on,” I hear Malcolm say behind me.
He runs one of his hands down my right arm until he reaches the crook of my elbow and then gently tugs.
“Come inside the house, Anna. You can play in the snow later.”
I turn to look at Malcolm and see amusement in his eyes as he looks at me.
“Is that a promise?” I ask him, not wanting to leave the snow just yet.
“Yes,” he says, almost smiling, “I promise you and Lucas can play in the snow later. Now come on. The breakfast he made for you will get cold.”
I follow Malcolm inside the house and find Lucas setting a plate full of pancakes on the kitchen island across from the stove.
“I hope you like pancakes,” Lucas says to me. “It’s probably not as fancy as what you eat in Cirrus, but they’re my favorite.”
“They smell wonderful,” I tell Lucas as I sit on a stool at the island.
Lucas is very attentive and makes sure I have plenty of butter and syrup for my pancakes. Malcolm even pours me a glass of fresh milk.
“Were you here recently?” I ask Malcolm. “Is that why you have fresh food in the house?”
“No, we haven’t been here since the summer,” Malcolm tells me. “But, we have a preserver.”
I know what he’s talking about because we have them in Cirrus. It was a device used to preserve perishables to keep them from spoiling for extended periods of time.
“I thought that type of technology was outlawed here.”
“It is. I procured mine through Bartholomew’s services.”
“So even overlords aren’t allowed technology from Cirrus?”
“No, we’re not. I have a hard time believing the royal family would put me in jail for owning a few things, especially considering how much money I make for them.”
“What will happen to your business while you’re an accused traitor to the crown?” I ask.
“I’m sure Levi will give my job to someone he can control. In the long run, it doesn’t really matter because you will be the ruler of Cirrus soon enough and straighten out the mess this world is in.”
“Yes, I will,” I say confidently. “I’ll prove to the other cloud cities that it’s time we stopped keeping the down-world in the dark. Once they see us succeed, I have no doubt they’ll follow our lead.”
“I expect you’ll accomplish your goals,” Malcolm says. “I’ll do everything I can to make your dream come true.”
“Does that mean you’ll make my dreams come true too?” Lucas says hopefully, grinning his gap toothed grin at Malcolm.
Malcolm ruffles his son’s hair and declares, “You are completely incorrigible.”
“I don’t even know what incorrigible means,” Lucas confesses.
“It means you're spoiled rotten,” Malcolm tells him. “Now go make me some pancakes too.”
While we eat breakfast, Lucas tells me his itinerary for us for the day which starts out with us making a snowman. I begin to wonder if Lucas has completely forgotten Operation Family since most of his other ideas only include me and him.
After he wolfs down his pancakes, Lucas sets his plate in the sink and says, “I’m gonna go get my coat!”
He rushes out of the kitchen, and I can hear his little feet as they pound up the stairs.
“You’re leather jacket is probably the best thing to wear outside,” Malcolm tells me. “It’ll keep you warmer than anything I have for you to wear.”
“Are you going to come outside and play with us?” I ask Malcolm, hoping he will so we can spend some quality time together.
“I have a project I’m working on in the workshop,” he tells me. “I would like to finish it before we have to leave.”
I’m more than mildly disappointed but don’t say anything. I get up from my stool and place my dirty dish in the sink on top of Lucas’.
Just as I’m leaving the room to go upstairs and grab my jacket, Malcolm says, “Lucas said you and he were going to prepare supper tonight.”
This statement brings me up short, but I don’t tip my hat and let the surprise show on my face.
“Did Millie teach you how to cook?” he asks.
“Not exactly,” I say, leaving the answer as ambiguous as it sounds.
But, Malcolm’s no fool.
“Have you ever cooked a meal in your life?” he asks me, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Not exactly,” I say again, unable to hide a smile of my own.
Malcolm turns to face me fully and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well, this should be interesting to see,” he says dubiously. “Very interesting.”
“You say that like you expect me to fail.”
“I haven’t known a female in your family who could cook an edible meal in the last thousand years. So, yes, I actually do expect you to fail…miserably.”
I place my hands on my hips. “That sounds like a challenge, Overlord Devereaux. Would you like to put a wager on your low expectations of my culinary skills?”
Malcolm narrows his eyes at me. “What kind of wager?”
“If I can cook a meal that is completely edible, you have to do something for me.”
“And what exactly would this something be?” he asks, his interest aroused.
My mind races with the possibilities of such a wager, but I settle on something simple.
“A kiss,” I tell him, watching for his reaction.
He doesn’t give much away, and I can’t read his expression on how he feels about my request.
“What do I get if I win?” he asks.
“What do you want?” I ask in return, holding my breath because I feel like I might have made a big mistake in this little contest of ours. What if he asks that I stop trying to make him face his feelings for me? I think he knows me well enough by now to realize I would stay true to such a promise, no matter the pain it would cause me.
“If I win,” Malcolm says slowly, “you have to play a game of chess with me.”
Inwardly, I sigh in relief.
“Deal,” I say, turning my back to him to walk away. For some reason, I look over my shoulder as I turn the corner of the hallway towards the stairs. I find Malcolm watching me with a thoughtful expression on his face. It’s a look that gives me hope. I just pray it isn’t a fool’s hope.
Just as Lucas and I are about to walk out the double doors of the kitchen to the backyard, I hear Malcolm call out my name.
I turn around to see him walking towards us carrying some knit items in his hands.
“You should wear these,” Malcolm says, setting the items on the nearby kitchen table and then picking up the scarf first which he wraps around my neck for me. “The jacket will keep your chest warm but the rest of you might feel the effects of the cold.”
He reaches back and lifts my hair up over the back of the scarf so it can flow freely. He then picks up a pair of black leather gloves and holds them out one at a time for me to slip my hands into.
“They're big,” he notes, “but they should at least keep your hands warm.”
The last accessory is a black knit cap that he pulls over my head a little too far down making it cover my face to my nose.
“Sorry,” he chuckles, as he folds it back up in the front to make it possible for me to see again.
Malcolm makes sure the sides are covering my ears, and I watch his expression turn thoughtful once again. His hands linger on either side of my head as he looks down at me. His hands slide down gently over my cheeks, cupping my face in a tender caress before falling back to his sides.
“You two have fun out there,” he tells us, but keeps his eyes steadily on me. “Don’t get too cold.”
Lucas tugs on one of my hands, and I reluctantly follow him out to the backyard.
First on Lucas’ agenda is for us to make a snowman. I begin to ball up some snow to make the base but Lucas says, “No, I don’t want to make it here. I want to make it over there.”
He points a short distance away. So, I abandon my efforts and go to the spot where he wants us to work. We’re working on patting down the snow on the belly portion of the snowman when Malcolm walks out of the house only wearing a thin black jacket over his clothes. He makes his way to the workshop which is closer down to the shoreline. I watch him walk through the snow towards the building, but he doesn’t seem to sense me staring at him. He walks into the rather large structure and flips on the light inside.
A window on the side of the workshop we’re facing lets me see Malcolm stop dead center of it and look at something on his work table there. He looks up and meets my gaze.
“Well, aren’t you a devious little boy,” I say to Lucas with a smile, now understanding why he was so exacting about where we built our snow man.
Lucas shrugs his shoulders and smiles cheekily.
“Like I said last night,” he tells me, “Operation Family is now in full effect.”
“Yes, your father told me about my offer to cook dinner for us tonight, something I don’t remember promising at all. I really wish you had talked about that little part of your strategy with me first, Lucas.”
“The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Lucas says like a recitation.
“Where did you learn that little gem?”
“Read it in a book,” he tells me.
“A book?” I ask in surprise. “You can read?”
“I’ve been reading since I was three-years-old,” he tells me proudly.
I stop patting the snow on our snowman and look at Lucas.
“Are you a genius?” I ask him.
“I’m pretty smart,” he says immodestly. “My dad says I'm the smartest person he knows.”
I smile. “That, my little matchmaker, I don’t doubt for a moment.”
“Then trust in my crazy genius!” Lucas says, with maniacal laughter.
I reach down and grab a handful of snow, quickly forming it into a ball and throwing it at my crazy genius’ head.
Lucas looks at me in surprise.
“Hmm,” I say, “I thought a crazy genius would have seen that one coming.”
Lucas’ squints as he fakes a mad face.
“Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that,” he says ominously.
We both reach down for more snow at the same time.
I feel sure the fight that commences should go down in the history book of snowball fights. I end up laughing so hard I become blinded by tears and grab my little hellion around the waist before he can finish his next snowball. We tumble onto the ground together still laughing.
“I surrender!” I tell him as we both lay in the snow.
“Hey, Anna!” Lucas says excitedly sitting up to look at me. “Have you ever made a snow angel?”
I shake my head. “No, how do you make one?”
“Just stay on your back,” he tells me, standing up. “Now put your arms out to your sides and spread your legs apart.”
I do as Lucas instructs, but apparently I’m not doing it right. He helps position my arms and legs at the angles he deems proper.
“Now wave your arms and legs back and forth,” he tells me.
I do as he says and feel completely silly waving my legs and arms against the snow. But, at this angle the sun is shining directly onto my face and I luxuriate in its warmth.
In Cirrus, the protective dome doesn’t allow the natural heat from the sun to penetrate through to us. The contrast between the heat of the sun and the coldness of the snow is strangely comforting. I stop moving my legs and close my eyes, basking in the strange sensation.
“I’m gonna go make us some hot cocoa, Anna. You stay here,” Lucas says to me.
I immediately open my eyes. “Is that safe?” I ask him. “Do you need me to come in and supervise?”
“Crazy geniuses don’t need help making cocoa!” Lucas assures me. “I do it all the time. No worries, Anna.”
Lucas scampers off towards the house, and I lay back down in the snow to enjoy the sunlight on my face.
“Where is he off to?” I hear Malcolm ask.
I open my eyes and see him looming over me, watching Lucas run up to the house.
“He said he was going to make us some hot cocoa. Is that safe for a boy his age to be doing all by himself?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the sun with one hand while I look up at Malcolm. “He told me he did it all the time, and I didn’t sense a lie.”
Malcolm looks down at me. “I think you’ve probably figured out by now that Lucas has an above average intellect.”
“Yes,” I admit, “I’ve noticed.”
“You on the other hand greatly disappoint me,” Malcolm says but his voice has a note of jest in it, n
ot seriousness.
“How so?” I ask, curious to see where this leads.
Malcolm proceeds to hold up one of his hands over my face with a snowball in it. Before I can react, he drops it.
“Far too easy, Anna,” Malcolm laughs.
I instantly sit up, sputtering for breath and wiping the snow from my eyes.
“Run,” I tell Malcolm in as menacing a voice as I can muster.
“And why, pray tell, should I do that?”
“Because you’re about to lose a war you have no chance of winning.”
“Really?” Malcolm says, sounding completely amused by my threat.
Before I know it, he drops another snowball on me which lands directly on top of my head.
I decide two can fight dirty.
I grab two handfuls of snow and begin to make a ball. I see Malcolm bend over to start making his own ball, but before his hands can even touch the snow at his feet I sweep one leg toward both of his and knock him to the ground and onto his back. Before he can recover, I quickly get to my feet and straddle his waist to keep him down on the ground.
Malcolm peers up at me looking amused at finding himself in such a compromising position.
“Why Empress Annalisse, who knew you liked to play so dirty?”
I smile down at him, patting my ball firmly between my hands.
“Why Overlord Devereaux, who knew you could be bested by a woman so easily?”
Next thing I know, Malcolm grabs the back of my thighs and rolls me over onto my back in a blink of an eye with him positioned on top of me between my legs.
“Did you ever consider the possibility,” he says leaning forward, bracing his hands on either side of my head as he brings his face down to mine with only inches separating us, “that it was part of my strategy all along?”
“Did you ever consider,” I say back, having a hard time remembering my plan because the closeness of his lips to mine is making it hard for me to keep a coherent thought in my head, “that this was part of mine?”
I reach between us and grab the waistband of Malcolm’s pants, pulling them down just far enough to stuff my snowball into them.