Hunker Down with the McKallisters: A Cake Series Novella

by J. Bengtsson

  “If you want, I can try and broker a meeting between you and the girls.”

  Shelby jerked her head up. “You know them?”

  “I do. They reached out to me a few years ago. Buttercup goes by the name Jana now. She’s twenty-three. And Leia just turned twenty-one.”

  Shelby nodded, years of selfish denial catching up with her. “Do you think they would see me?”

  “I’m not gonna lie. They have some abandonment issues. But they’re curious. I think once Rocky gets better, maybe we should all plan a meeting.”

  Shelby dropped her head into her hands. “Oh god, Rocky.”

  Posy, who’d been standing by my side, slid her arm over Shelby’s shoulder. “He’s going to be okay, Grandma.”

  “Grandma? I’m too young to be a grandma.”

  “Yet you are one.” I smiled.

  Shelby lay her hand to Posy’s cheek. “How can you be so sure your daddy will be fine?”

  “Because Emma says so, and she’s the smartest person ever,” Posy answered.

  “She is pretty smart,” Shelby acknowledged, before looking up at me. “You know what I like most about your wife?”

  “What?”

  “She was able to look past all this.” Shelby swept her arm to encompass Perryland. “And all of this.” The second pass encompassed her. “And then she looked in there” – Shelby pressed her finger to my heart – “and found gold.”

  My phone rang, startling us all. Speaking of Emma… it was a Facetime request from her. Shelby and Posy flanked me on either side as I accepted the call.

  “Finn, I just got…” her voice cut out.

  My blood instantly ran cold. “I can’t hear you.”

  “EMMA!” Shelby hollered in my ear. “WE… CAN’T… HEAR… YOU!”

  Posy’s face fell, fear etched over her delicate features. “Auntie, is my daddy okay?

  Emma smiled. “See for yourself.”

  And as she turned the camera away, the image filling the screen was of Rocky—alive and awake.

  12

  Jake

  Quarantine – Day 30

  “Look, Jake. You don’t have to get mad. All I’m saying is, cults make perfect sense. It’s hard to make friends as adults.”

  My jaw twitched. I’d left this conversation behind like eight minutes ago, but Kyle… oh man, he just kept harping on it. The original conversation had centered around murder hornets, so I wasn’t even sure how we’d made the jump to cults in the first place. Although, to be fair, anything my brother had to say nowadays burrowed under my skin, then suffocated and died. Look, I’m not saying Kyle was the most irritating person on the planet, but he’d sure better hope the other guy doesn’t die.

  “And plus,” Kyle continued, “if you put aside the brainwashing, cults come with free food and lodging.”

  “I don’t want to talk about cults!” I snapped at him.

  “Fine,” Kyle huffed. “Jesus. What’s up your ass?”

  “Apparently, lots and lots of coronavirus.”

  Kyle’s eyes widened before he burst into a fit of hysterics. His laughter abruptly ended when he caught sight of my venomous glare. Kyle knew better than to rile me up, having weathered my violent, irrational outbursts for most of his life. Granted, this experience was bringing out the worst in me, and Kyle was the most convenient, no—the only—punching bag.

  I did feel bad about taking my frustrations out on my brother, but there was nothing funny about the situation we found ourselves in. We were going on a month of isolation now, with no end in sight. And, the shitty part of it was that neither one of us was sick anymore. The virus, and all its symptoms, had passed through us two weeks ago. We both felt fine; yet the follow-up testing continued to show up positive.

  “All I can say is, if we don’t test negative this time around, I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

  Okay, sure, that was a bit dramatic on my part, but I’d had all I could take. Three times the doctor had arrived to jam a footlong Q-tip into my brain, and twice he’d come back forty-eight hours later to deliver the unwelcome news. And now, here he was again, crossing over the pool deck on his way to the guest house to give us the results of the latest test. They say the third time’s the charm. It had better be, or my parents would be dealing with their insurance company.

  “What do you think?” I asked, standing at the window watching the doctor approach. “Does he look happy?”

  “Who, Dr. Fry?” Kyle replied.

  I turned my head to shoot daggers into his soul. “Do you see anybody else out there?”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe you were talking about the unicorn pool floaty.”

  My eye began to twitch. I think… yes, it was official… the most irritating person on the planet had died, and now my brother wore the crown.

  Between clenched teeth, I explained my previous question. “I meant, does Dr. Fry—not the unicorn pool floaty—look like he’s about to deliver good news or bad?”

  “He’s wearing a hazmat suit, Jake. That’s never a good sign.”

  “Dammit!” I roared, swinging the door open to the startled doc. “Let’s just get this over with. Are we still positive, or not?”

  The man spoke through the confines of his mask. “Jake, I’m pleased to tell you that you are free to go.”

  His words took a moment to register. I’d been waiting to hear Dr. Fry say that for so long, I honestly wasn’t sure how to react. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You tested negative for the virus.”

  “Oh, thank god,” I blew out the breath I’d been holding before realization took hold. The doctor wasn’t looking like he’d just emerged from a bat cave to deliver bad news to me. He was here for Kyle.

  “What about my brother?” I asked.

  Doctor Fry and Kyle exchanged a conspiratorial grin. I looked between the two. “Wait, what’s going on? What am I missing?”

  “May I?” the doc asked Kyle.

  “Sure,” he replied. “Go right ahead.”

  “Jake, Kyle tested negative two weeks ago. He was free to leave whenever he wanted.”

  I let the words sink into my brain. My god. He’d stayed locked in here… for me.

  “Why?” I asked my brother, although I didn’t need to hear the answer. I already knew. Kyle would do anything for me.

  I didn’t deserve him.

  13

  Kenzie

  Lockdown – Day 30

  “I think you missed your calling, Quinn,” I said to my brother-in-law, who was perched high up on a ladder, painting the second-floor exterior of the Scottish castle playhouse that he’d insisted on buying for his nieces and nephews, to spruce up the McKallister’s already ridiculously child-friendly backyard.

  “At least I have something to fall back on if music doesn’t work out,” he said, smoothing more paint over the wood siding.

  Quinn would not be needing a backup plan. With a string of hit songs, he’d already secured himself a place in history—and in my good graces. Younger than his siblings, I’d always considered Quinn the most elusive of the McKallister brothers, fading into the background of the big personalities that had propelled the famous family forward. For that reason, I’d never really felt much of a connection to him… until the pandemic hit, and suddenly, we all found ourselves living under the same roof.

  With the other men of the household locked away in the guest house, Quinn emerged from his own two-week quarantine as the only other male presence in the house besides Scott, and was instantly propelled into celebrity status amongst the kids. Filling the ‘fun uncle’ role effortlessly, it was not uncommon to see him swimming with his nieces and nephews in the pool or rolling around with them in the grass. But what I’d appreciated most was that he’d taken the time to sit down and chat with me. As it turned out, Quinn was every bit as personable as his older siblings, and I kicked myself for not having made the effort to connect with him sooner.

  “And how did you
say you were with Ikea furniture?” I asked.

  “I didn’t. I don’t even try.”

  “It’s not that bad.” I laughed. “I’ll have you know Kyle is a wizard when it comes to putting that stuff together.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The directions are in a storybook form.”

  I laughed again. It was true. With Kyle, explanations had always gone easier with pictures. “How about I do the figuring out and you do the screwing?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, dazzling me with his smirk. “I’m good at screwing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are.”

  Before he could reply with more innuendo, Quinn glanced behind me while raising a hand to block out the sun. I saw his eyes widen.

  “Sweet merciful crap!” he exclaimed. “They live.”

  I swung around, and like a slow-motion scene straight out of a movie, Kyle and Jake strolled across the grass toward us. There were a few moments in life that meant more than others, and this was definitely one of them. I’d been waiting a long time to see my man in the flesh, and now that he was here, I couldn’t repress my high-pitched squeal as I ran to Kyle, flinging myself into his arms.

  Grabbing his face, I planted a series of kisses on his lips. It was hard to describe how much I’d missed him. Kyle and I weren’t one of those couples who needed space. We worked together. We played together. And we were raising two boys together. Kyle was my best friend in every sense of the word, and although I’d glommed on to his little brother in the interim, there was no substitute for the real thing.

  “Oh man, Kenz, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see your beautiful face. No offense to you, dude,” Kyle said with a nod to Jake. “But I wasn’t sure if I could take one more day of your ugly mug.”

  “Right back at ya,” Jake replied, smiling as he moved past us with purpose.

  “Oh, and Kenzie?” he called over his shoulder. “You’ve got yourself a good man—the best.”

  “I know,” I answered back. Not a day passed that I wasn’t thankful for the life I had. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Jake raised his hand, receiving my words but not looking back. I knew exactly where he was headed: to Casey.

  Turning back to Kyle, I mouthed, “He knows?”

  Kyle nodded. “He does now.”

  I hugged my husband a little tighter, savoring the moment. Two weeks ago, I’d received a call from Kyle with the good news—he’d tested negative for the virus. But my joy was short-lived when, in the same breath, he’d told me that Jake had not. I knew before he even asked for my permission that Kyle wouldn’t leave his brother. And no way was I going to ask him to, either. I’d known when I married Kyle that his loyalty to Jake was absolute. Sure, I could have demanded that he to return to us, but it would’ve pained him. So, as much as I wanted our little family reunited, I understood that this was something Kyle had to do.

  “What about me?” Quinn asked, waiting for a similar compliment.

  “You’re a good man too,” I said, flashing him a thumbs up.

  Quinn tipped his head in thanks.

  Kyle looked up, as if only just realizing his brother was up there on the ladder. “Dude, not cool. Put a shirt on around my wife.”

  Tossing me straight under the bus, Quinn replied, “She’s the one who suggested I take it off.”

  Oh, boy. Thanks, jerk!

  Employing the use of my big Bambi eyes, I spun an emergency web of damage control. “I suggested he take it off so he wouldn’t get paint on his clothes,” I explained. Very, very logical. And, while the whole paint angle wasn’t a lie, I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit Quinn was a sight for bored eyes.

  “If that were the case, why isn’t he totally naked then?” Kyle asked.

  I bit down on my lower lip, cringing. “I didn’t think I could get away with it.”

  Never one to hold a grudge, Kyle fought off a smile and said, “You get one communicable disease and suddenly your wife is undressing your baby brother.”

  I laughed, sidling up to my hubby. “Come on, Shaggy, you know I like my men pale, skinny, and goofy.”

  “Well then, lucky you.” Kyle grinned, tucking his head into my neck and blowing raspberries. “I’m your dream come true.”

  Grabbing onto Kyle’s shirt, I dragged him toward the castle door. “You have no idea. Come on. Let’s play Outlander in the castle. You be Jaime.”

  “I have no idea what you just said,” Kyle said. “But I’m digging the tone of voice.”

  “Oh, my god,” Quinn panicked, scrambling down the rungs. “Let me at least get off the ladder first.”

  14

  Casey

  Lockdown – Day 30

  “Slater, watch your sister a second while I help Miles with his homework.”

  Just the fact that I found nothing alarming with that sentence proved how far I’d come as a single mom since the lockdown began. Four weeks ago, tasking three-year-old Slater with any more responsibility than popping a pacifier into Lily’s mouth would have seemed inconceivable. Now, I had the kid actively keeping her alive. How times had changed. Of course, it wasn’t like Slater was going to be alone with her. I was right here checking Miles’ work. I mean, how far could Lily get on her hands and knees?

  Bending over Miles’ shoulder, my eyes rounded in wonder as I scanned his writing assignment. He’d been tasked with writing something he liked about his kindergarten teacher. The prompts were all there for him, and all he needed to do was choose words from the provided list and fill them into the underlined blanks. Ms. Stout is a good teacher. She is smart. I like when she does meth with us.

  I burst out laughing.

  “What?” Miles asked, a quizzical expression on his face. Because he was such a meticulous child, he took his homework seriously, and clearly didn’t appreciate me laughing at his efforts.

  “Sorry, honey,” I said, smoothing down his hair and kissing his head. “It looks good. You just misspelled math.”

  Before he could correct his work, I snapped a shot of it with my phone. It wasn’t every day we got priceless material to add to the scrapbook, and I knew his daddy needed a laugh as much as I did.

  “Mommy, Lily is a kitty,” Slater announced proudly.

  My middle child loved make-believe. He was always dressing up in costumes and was never without his trusty plastic sword. If he was pretending his sister was a cat, there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about that.

  “I bet she’s a pretty kitty,” I replied, flipping the page in Miles’ workbook.

  “Yes,” my middle child agreed. “She goes potty in the litter box too.”

  Mother of God! My heart dropped out of my chest. I already knew where my baby was without even looking her way. The McKallisters had a cat-sized door off the kitchen that led out to a fully enclosed kitty condo with wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the backyard. Inside the feline paradise were climbing platforms, toys, and an oversized litterbox large enough to accommodate their three cats—and my nine-month-old daughter.

  “Slater!” I screamed, racing to the window and peering through the glass at my precious baby girl squealing as she cast fistfuls of litter into the air. “What have you done?”

  “She wanted to play with the kitties,” he explained, his bottom lip already quivering.

  “How’d you even get her in there?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. He’d pushed her big ol’ diapered rump through the itty-bitty kitty door—of course.

  Slater swayed in place, his expression unbalanced, as anger and embarrassment took hold. I had three… no, two seconds before the glass-shattering shrieks began. But when he opened his mouth to scream, no sound escaped him. I grabbed for my son but was not quick enough as his skin paled to a deathly white, his lips turned blue, and he collapsed to the floor.

  “Michelle!” I screamed, scooping Slater’s limp body up into my arms. I knew what to do because I’d been in this situation many times before. Sticking my finger into his mouth, I che
cked for an obstruction before determining that my middle child was, once again, suffering from a breath-holding spell. See, Slater had always been a hotbed of emotion, feeling everything to extremes. When he was happy, there was no one happier. When he was sad, the world cried with him, and when he was angry or embarrassed, my dramatic son held his breath and passed himself out.

  Michelle rounded the corner just as I blew into Slater’s face. He jerked, his arms splaying out before taking a breath. That was when the screaming started. With him in my arms, I slid to the floor, exhausted and relieved but also angry with myself for putting Slater… and me… into the situation in the first place. I knew better. What happened to the mother I’d always thought myself to be?

  “Is he okay?” Michelle asked, running her fingers over the swelling already forming on his sweaty forehead.

  I nodded, still too traumatized to explain. Instead, I tipped my head in the direction of the kitty condo and simply said, “Lily.”

  Forty minutes later, Miles had completed his homework, Lily was changed and bathed, and Slater had mercifully cried himself to sleep. Days like this were not in the brochure. They were also a reminder of how fortunate I was to have a part-time nanny to pick up the slack where I was clearly lacking. There was nothing like a little leveling of the playing field to knock one back down to size. Before the virus, before Jake fell ill, I’d prided myself on having it all: holding down a part-time job while raising three kids and attending glittery social events with my hot hubs. But the truth was, I did it all with help. Without it, I was the mom who set her kid up to fail and who had, quite possibly, introduced her daughter to a full-fledged furry fetish in her later years.