by W. C. Peever
“Alright, my love. Just be sure that it’s solid before you go out. You know how I worry.”
“Stop nagging, Mom. I’m not an idiot. What time are you going to work today?”
“The usual time, but I’ll come home early tonight so we can celebrate, so don’t you stay out too late.” She paused, then added, half to herself, “Twelve – you really are my little man!”
“Love you, too, Mom.” Charlie sighed. He had been the man of the house for years now, killing the spiders, changing the light bulbs, shoveling the driveway and doing all the other ‘man of the house’ chores. The thought suddenly reminded him that he still needed to shovel the walkway. Deciding it could wait a while, he sat down at the table.
Ellen grabbed her work bag. “Hun, I’ve been looking everywhere for my nurse scrubs. I thought I washed them last night, but they weren’t in the dryer this morning.”
“You forgot to take them out of the washer before you went to bed, mom. I dried them, folded them, and put them in your bag.” His mom forgot a lot of things these days. When Charlie’s father left, his mother had to take on double shifts at the hospital to make the bills. Now that Charlie was turning twelve he was old enough to work after school. Maybe then his mom would be able to take a day off here and there. He had already secured a job as a bag boy at the grocery store on the corner of Birch Street.
“Thank you, dear.” She kissed him on the forehead, checked her bag and ran out the door. “Love you. Be good today, and don’t be late coming home.”
Charlie shoveled the rest of his breakfast down, grabbed an extra biscuit and ran upstairs to get dressed for the pond. On his way up, he grabbed the cordless phone and punched in a number without even looking at the keypad.
“Bailey, up for a skate?” Charlie paused to listen and a big grin extended across his freckled face. “You can’t say no, considering what day it is! That’s what I thought. See you in fifteen. Bye.”
Charlie threw the phone on his bed and scooped up an old pair of jeans, along with a red flannel shirt and a pair of socks with holes in the toes, then headed for the bathroom. Ten minutes later he was down the stairs and snatching his house keys as he ran out the door. His blue ten-speed was leaning up against the house where he had left it the day before. He jumped on and tore down the icy driveway towards the pond. It was only two miles. Bailey had to ride three times as far, but somehow she always beat him there. He could never figure it out. Today, however, was his birthday and he was determined to beat her to the pond.
As he rounded the final corner he realized that his wish would not be fulfilled this year. Bailey laughed at him from the end of the road.
“Did you remember your inhaler or should I call an ambulance?” Bailey giggled.
“Oh, shut up. I’ve never needed an inhaler in my life and you know it. One of these days I’m going to find the secret short cut that you take!”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Charlie? I am just faster, smarter, and better than you in every way.”
Charlie laughed. “Nice scarf. Did you get it for your birthday? I don’t remember seeing it yesterday.” Bailey’s birthday was exactly one day before his, and she never let him forget that she was the older of the two.
“Yeah, it arrived today in the mail. It’s from my great aunt Bertha. She also sent this gold locket. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s nice Bail. So, where is my present?”
“Here! Let me give it to you,” she said, and pushed him hard into a snow bank. She grabbed her skates and ran for the pond. He ran after her, laughing.
He reached the bench where she sat to lace up and flopped down on the snow-dusted ground next to her, noticing, out of the corner of his eye, a man in a dark brown cloak at the far end of the pond, sitting, smoking a pipe. It wasn’t unusual for people to sit at the pond, reading a newspaper, feeding the ducks, or just watching the skaters, and smoking a pipe was not that far from the norm. There was, however, something about the man that seemed…odd? Familiar? Charlie could not quite put his finger on it. He shook off the feeling of disquiet and returned to lacing up his skates, glancing up at Bailey to keep up with her.
He and Bailey had been friends since birth. Their fathers had been best friends through school and college. They had each acted as best man at the other’s wedding. After college they had started an investment firm together. Beyond that, Charlie knew little except that they traveled together frequently, and it was on one of those business trips that they both disappeared.
It was almost ten years ago to the day, but Bailey still held out hope that they would come back. As a kid, she often romanticized their fathers’ lives, telling imaginative stories about where they had been. Charlie wanted to believe them, but as time went on he realized that they were simply never coming back.
“Charlie, stop daydreaming and come skate with me.” His pale cheeks flushed. She had caught him staring off into nowhere again. He looked at Bailey. She was wearing a pink polar fleece coat, with a white hat and gloves. And, she was skating circles in the middle of the pond, her dark brown, almost black hair swinging freely behind her. She refused to put it in a ponytail, despite her mother’s pleading. Charlie vividly remembered the fight she had had with her mother over it when she was seven:
“Do I look like a horse to you, Mother? Well, I’m not! So why would I wear my hair like a pony? Ponytails! Hmmph!”
Even at that age she had an independent streak that always led to trouble. Whenever she could, she got them into trouble, but she was always there to get him back out of it. They were inseparable. Charlie could never admit it, but she had gotten quite beautiful over the years.
He watched as Bailey jumped into the air, did a triple axel and fell flat on her bottom. He laughed, then wobbled on to the ice and skated his way out to her.
The ice was solid and smooth after the recent cold spell and it was turning out to be a perfect day for skating; a blue sky and warm sun battled the winter winds and warmed their stinging faces. They spent the day racing each other around the pond and later played hockey. He beat her every time, and after the sixth game, became suspicious that she was letting him win on account of his birthday.
Late in the afternoon, Bailey spoke up. “Charlie, it’s getting late. What time is your mom coming home?”
“I’m not sure, but we should get back. I assume you’ll be staying for dinner?”
“When have you ever known me to pass up chocolate cake? Anyhow, I still need to give you your real present. I think you may even like this one.”
“I honestly don’t need another pair of fuzzy bunny slippers, Bail.” They both laughed heartily. As they took off their skates and mounted their bikes, Charlie noticed that the man with the pipe had disappeared. Together he and Bailey rode the winding road back to Charlie’s home.
The sun was setting as Charlie and Bailey rounded the top of the hill. They propped their bikes together against the side of the house. Charlie’s mother’s car was already parked outside the garage – she must have gotten off especially early to be sure that she could spend his birthday with him. As he and Bailey walked around back and entered, he was surprised and disappointed not to meet the usual wall of delicious aromas. He had expected his mother to be in the kitchen, busy making dinner, ready to chide him for being late, but the oven wasn’t on. His cake was still in the white cardboard bakery package, wrapped with red twine.
Charlie searched the small kitchen. His mother was not there, hiding to surprise him. Charlie began to panic. She always made a big deal over his birthday. It was her way of dealing with the anniversary of her husband’s disappearance.
Then he heard voices coming from the living room. It sounded like an argument, but who would she be arguing with? It didn’t make any sense.
“No! No! I am not going to lose Charlie. Especially not over what his father did sometime in the past. I just won’t. He…he won’t hurt me like this…not again.” It was his mother’s voice, and even th
rough the door he could hear the tears welling in her voice. It was the half yelling, husky, slightly gravelly voice of a jazz singer that only came out when she was remembering his father.
A moment later a calm, accented voice sounded through the door, drawing Charlie and Bailey closer in order to hear the words. The voice was mesmerizing. In a controlled tone that gave every impression of kindness, the speaker spoke soothingly to Charlie’s mother. His manner of speaking placed him definitively from the United Kingdom, although Charlie could not place where, specifically.
“Ellen. It is for this reason and this reason alone that I have come. I could not bear the thought of you losing another loved one to these men. Not if I could prevent it. I left you without a husband, ten years ago. Don’t let this be on my conscience as well. Please.”
There was a clink of metal against china. Charlie and Bailey looked at each other, puzzled looks on their faces. Were the man and his mother drinking coffee together? It was almost too absurd to imagine – a conversation about the past, and what sounded like Charley’s future, over coffee and cookies. It felt as if they had been transported into some bizarre nightmare.
“The children are fine Henry. For ten years, Ellen and I have raised these two remarkable, sweet and caring children the best two single women could. We never received a cent from the agency, or you, in all that time. There was supposed to be a life insurance policy, wasn’t there?”
The new voice was Bailey’s mom. She seemed much more collected than Ellen, or maybe it was just that her anger, which she used to propel her words like cobra venom, was also the source of strength that had kept her going all these years. “So now, you’re telling us that after ten years of silence, the children are in trouble? Ridiculous!” She spat the last few words. Charlie could hear his mother sobbing in the background.
“It was the safety precaution that your husbands put in place that has kept us, and our enemies, from your doorstep. The two never disclosed the location of your homes to us, not during the entirety of their service to the Queen. It was an important secret, and one I respected. It was not until recently that news came to us that the enemy had discovered your location. They are coming for your children, now, as we speak. They may be near already. Thornfield is the safest place for the children, Ellen. You know this to be true. I promise we will take good care of them.”
“We don’t have the money to send them to Thornfield,” Ellen Burrows’ raspy voice retorted. “Maybe ten years ago, when things were different, but not now.”
“That’s all been taken care of Ellen, and you two will be also. Daniel and John had insurance. Everything has been worked out.”
Bailey looked at Charlie and grasped tightly onto his hand. Her eyes seemed to be asking a question that she could not get her lips to form. He could hear her unspoken words. They shouldn’t be here; they needed to run. It was as much a part of Bailey’s nature as a fish’s need to swim. Many times, Charlie he had woken up freezing because Bailey had run away from home in the middle of the night, jumped into bed with him, and stolen the covers. She would never talk about it in the morning, but he always knew when she had dreamed about her father.
Charlie tightened his grip about her hand. They had been through a lot together, and from the sound of the conversation behind the door, they were about to embark on an adventure whether they wanted to or not.
Charlie pulled Bailey back through the kitchen and over towards the garage door then opened and slammed it smartly. His mother would be terribly hurt if she knew he had heard her crying. She was proud, and always tried to act so strong around him. It was only late at night, when she thought he was sound asleep, that she would quietly sit and cry at the kitchen table. The bills and past due notices all bore tell tale tear stains, as did the picture of Daniel Burrows that she held tenderly.
“Mom! Mom, where are you?” Charlie called loudly.
“In here, Charlie. Is Bailey with you?” she answered anxiously through the living room door.
“Yeah, why?”
“Her mom is here too.” She paused. “Why don’t you both come in? There is someone here that would like to meet you.”
Charlie and Bailey entered the room, hand in hand, looking cautiously around. Sitting in his father’s leather wing-chair was the old man from the pond. Charlie froze, not so much in fear as in shock. Charlie’s free hand balled up into a fist. The man was much older than Charlie had first thought. He was probably seventy, but his age only showed in the corners of his eyes. The eyes themselves were as blue as a gas stove flame, and twice as bright. There was immense wisdom hidden behind them, as if he had seen more of the world than most people were even aware of.
He was also thin. Not the old man, wrinkled skin kind of thin, but toned and weathered. He had a face framed in thin gold rimmed glasses and a closely cut snow white beard. The wavy, white hair on his head had silver streaks in it, though it was slicked back like a 1920’s businessman. An old-fashioned black bowler hat lay at his feet and in his hand was a shiny black cane with a silver Scots terrier for a handle. He smiled immediately when he saw Charlie
“Greetings, dear boy, and to you also, Miss Relling. A true pleasure, a true pleasure indeed.” His thick accent enhanced by his sophisticated clothing and polite posture.
“Lord Henry Grayson,” he said, then paused. “I was both your fathers’ employer years ago.”
Charlie looked at his mother. Her red eyes indicated that she had, as he imagined, been crying. Her glistening cheeks were proof.
“Mom, what’s going on? This guy was at the pond watching us while we skated. Why is he here, now, on my birthday?” His eyes darted from his mother to Ms. Relling to Bailey, who had stopped and let loose of his hand in the doorway.
His mother got up from her chair, walked over, knelt next to Charlie, and grasped his hands.
“Hun, your father…had a secret. A big secret.” She stood and paced in front of the fireplace. From the sound of it, Charlie surmised he had missed a great deal of the conversation. Ellen continued to pace, unsure of how to proceed. The truth was a fresh slash in her heart – a hurt that would never heal.
“There were always pieces of our life that seemed odd back then. In this new light…” She paused to take a stifled breath. “Well, Lord Grayson has put all of the pieces together. Oh Charlie, your father loved you and me so much. I just knew he wouldn’t have left us. Not if he could have helped it.”
Could have helped it? Charlie thought to himself. Was his father alive, then? Maybe he had walked into the room too soon. Was it possible? Could his father have been taken hostage years ago! Was he trying to get back home even as they were standing there in the living room! What were they waiting for? His gaze darted over to Bailey in whose eyes shone the same tantalizing glint of hope.
Mrs. Burrows took her son’s hands in hers.
“Your father loved you so much, Charlie, that when you were born he cried. It was the one and only time I saw him cry. She wiped away a few tears that had worked their way past her defenses. “He didn’t leave us, Charlie,” she then looked over at Bailey. “Your fathers were very brave men. They served England and the world. They…” She paused once again, trying to retain her composure. “Oh Charlie. Your father is gone. He died ten years ago. He’s gone, my love. They are both gone.” Ellen Burrows collapsed into her chair sobbing, clutching her son tightly.
Lord Grayson took over. “They died in the line of duty. You were barely toddlers when all of this happened. You should be honored to call them your fathers.” Speaking directly to the two children, he continued. “That being said, the same men that took your father’s lives would now like very much to take your lives and your mothers’ lives as well. I will not let that happen to you or to your mothers. Your two families have gone through quite enough on my watch, and I refuse to let it happen again.”
“Wait,” said Charlie, feeling as if the house was collapsing around him. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. When he finally did,
he asked, “What do you mean he’s dead? What do you mean he died with honor? What did my father do?”
Lord Grayson stood taller and smiled. It was not a condescending smile, far from it. Lord Grayson was being kind, understanding and most impressively, genuine. He was irritating Charlie to his breaking point, nonetheless.
“Your fathers worked for the British Secret Service. Their job was to protect the Queen from harm. Both your fathers died believing they were saving her and that they were saving their country as well.” He looked longingly at the still steaming tea cup on the coffee table beside him. “I have come to take you back to England, to protect and to educate the both of you, as is your birth right. It was their parting wish that you attend the same preparatory school that they enjoyed, and I am overjoyed that we have found you, so that I may grant their wish.”
“England?” Charlie said incredulously. “You want Bailey and me to go to England? You can’t be serious. We are already half way through the term…” Charlie was cut off by Ms. Relling, who had connected again with the anger boiling inside of her.
“How dare you! Neither of us has given permission for them to leave, and I still find it very hard to believe that they are in much danger. Lord Grayson, if indeed that is even your real name, it has been ten years since John and Daniel’s deaths! Why would their killers be so intent on murdering our children? There are too many holes in your story, and I, for one, will not stand by and let you dictate terms to me!”
Charlie turned to Bailey. She was ashen white. A shiver ran down Charlie’s back. As badly as he was taking this news, he knew it was somehow much, much worse for her.
“Bailey?” Charlie pled, needing to reach her. She returned his gaze for a moment, then turned and ran out of the living room, through the door and outside. Charlie froze, but only for a moment. He had to catch her before she ran and something happened to her. Without further thought he gave chase, and caught up with her crying as she attempted to unravel her bike from his. He reached out and held her tight to his chest. Bailey sobbed for a few minutes until the words came to her.