by Bethany-Kris
He’d started kindergarten that year, later than other kids, his teacher had said, but even then, his father didn’t allow him to play with other children, or to have them come to his house. He didn’t know why, and he no longer asked, because the last time he did, Sean gave him a whooping he didn’t soon forget.
“Checking something,” Connor said, wiping his hands on his pants.
Just beyond the line of trees, he could see Evelyn waiting for him to come and play, like she always did when she came looking for him first.
Today, she was wearing a yellow dress with a matching hat and mittens, and a pink coat that wasn’t zippered all the way up.
She always had something new and pretty on.
He liked that about her.
“Can I see?” she asked.
Connor didn’t want to say no, but he thought if he did, Evelyn might be sad. He’d seen her cry once, after she’d tripped over a fallen log in the woods, and skinned her knee up pretty bad. He hated when she cried; he didn’t want to be the reason she did, ever.
Maybe he could bring Kitty to her?
That way, she didn’t have to come out of the woods where his father might see, even if they were hidden behind the shed.
Quickly, Connor bent down and scooped Kitty from the den, pulling him away from the other kittens. Not that they seemed to notice, as they simply snuggled into an even tighter ball together. Kitty blinked up at Connor as he darted into the woods, keeping his kitten close to his chest, just in case the animal got scared and tried to jump from his hands.
He’d learned that kitten scratches hurt, even if they were tiny.
Evelyn gasped at the sight of the kitten when she could finally see what Connor was holding. The closer he came, the bigger her smile grew.
He thought—knew—she was prettiest when she smiled. None of the girls in his kindergarten class were as interesting as Evelyn. He didn’t like them nearly as much as he liked her.
“Can I hold her?”
Connor’s gaze narrowed. “It’s a male.”
Evelyn’s hands went straight to her hips in balled fists. “How do you know that?”
“Well, I think he’s a male.”
Her pretty green eyes rolled high to the sky. “Whatever, can I see?”
Connor passed the squirming kitten over, and watched as Evelyn petted Kitty from the very top of his head, to the very tip of his tail over and over again. Kitty’s purrs became louder the longer she stroked him.
“It’s very soft,” she whispered.
“He likes it when you rub his ears.”
She did that, too, happiness radiating around her. Connor was just excited that he had found something to make Evelyn happy, as he didn’t have much to give her except his time to play, which sometimes, wasn’t a whole lot. She always had nice things—cool toys, brand new pencils and papers to draw with, and colorful clothes that were never dirty or ripped like his always were. To give her something from him, even if it was just enough to make her smile for a while, made him feel … good.
Connor explained how he had found the cat and the kittens while Evelyn kept petting Kitty, but he never mentioned his father’s dislike of animals, or why he couldn’t bring them inside his own house.
“Does it have a name?”
Connor felt almost silly when he replied, “Kitty.”
He knew it wasn’t a good name, but he had picked it.
That counted for something.
Evelyn’s smile grew even wider. “I like it.”
Then, Connor had an idea. One that he wasn’t sure he entirely liked, as it meant he might not get to see Kitty as often as he did now, but it would mean the kitten would be safe and warm all winter, and even longer. Forever, maybe.
“You can have him,” Connor said quietly.
Evelyn looked up from the cat, her eyes sparkling at him. “Could I?”
Her dad was not like his—he was a nicer man, and he’d never said a word when he’d sometimes seen Connor playing with Evelyn. He also knew it was Evelyn’s dad who bought her all the new and pretty things she always seemed to have, so he didn’t think there would be much of a fight if she brought Kitty home and wanted to keep it.
“Yeah, he likes you,” Connor said.
“What about the others?” Evelyn asked. “I can’t take all the kitties home, Connor.”
He’d worry about the others.
He just didn’t know how.
“It’s okay,” he lied.
Kitty would have to do.
Evelyn would love him, Connor was sure of it.
That was enough.
Evelyn smiled brightly, leaned forward, and planted a kiss right on his open mouth. Connor wasn’t sure what to do, so he just stood there, looking like a dense lad.
“I love you, Connor,” she proclaimed.
He blinked, unsure of that word and its meaning. Sure, he had heard it before, but never directed at him.
“Are you sure?” he dared to ask.
Evelyn glanced up at the sky like she was considering what he said. “Pretty sure.”
Well, okay then.
“Connor! Where are you, lad?”
Connor leaped a good foot away from Evelyn at the sound of his father’s shout, his heart leaping into his throat as he stumbled to get farther away. “Go home, Evelyn.”
“But—” She looked down at the kitten. “Won’t you say goodbye to Kitty?”
“Connor!”
“Go,” he said, before darting out of the woods, not once looking back.
Evelyn would listen.
She was smart that way.
• • •
His father had a new maid—Missy, was her name. He’d heard Sean call her that a few times, but never when he thought Connor was close enough to hear. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened to the last maid, but one morning, she hadn’t left him his juice on his nightstand, and he knew she wouldn’t be waiting in the kitchen with food.
He had been right.
Sean never said a word about Lela, where she had gone, or what happened to her. A good two weeks had gone by before the next maid showed up, so late one night that her arrival had woken Connor from his dreams. He’d snuck down the stairs to see what the noise was, only to see a very young lass crouched in the hallway, her hair a tangled mess, sticking to tear streaks on her cheeks, and snot running from her nose.
A large red welt on her cheek had just started to form.
Connor’s father had been standing over her, ready to hit her again.
He’d gone back upstairs to his bed.
This maid wasn’t very good at cooking, not like Lela had been. And despite the many accidents and ruined meals since she had showed up that night, his father was … happier, or so it seemed. Connor wondered if his father overlooked the fact the maid didn’t cook very well, and also didn’t seem to like to clean, because she was younger than Lela was.
Missy didn’t look to be any older than some of the girls in the middle school grades that traveled on his school bus.
She didn’t talk a lot.
Neither did Connor.
He didn’t really know what to think of her, so he tried not to think of her all that much. Each time he had become fond of one of their maids, she eventually left in the night, leaving him to wonder why she couldn’t say goodbye to him.
He was not going to do the same for Missy.
Connor kept his eyes down on his plate of scrambled eggs—the first eggs Missy had made that weren’t runny—as he ate, trying as fast as he could to shovel down the food without pissing his father off. Then again, Sean’s attention seemed to be preoccupied on what Missy was doing at the sink, and not on his son.
For that, Connor was grateful.
“Are you almost finished?” Sean asked.
Since he wasn’t looking at his father, Connor thought Sean was talking to Missy, and shoved another bite into his waiting mouth.
“Connor!”
Apparently, he’d been wrong.
“Yeah?”
“Are you almost done?” his father repeated, slower the second time.
“Yes,” Connor said quietly.
“Good, then finish and get outside for the day.” Sean’s gaze slid back to Missy, and then right down to her arse. “And don’t let me hear about you effin’ and blindin’ at school again. Goddamn teacher calling my house in a rage, the cunt.”
He knew better than to explain an older lad had been picking on him, and so Connor had finally taken enough, and let the kid have it. Instead, he thought about playing outside, and how cold it would be.
Connor’s brow furrowed. “It snowed all night.”
“Dress warmly.”
That was that.
His father didn’t sound like there was room for argument.
Connor made sure to leave nothing on his plate, and only had time to get the front door closed before he heard Missy’s first scream. He didn’t remember Lela being that loud.
He would not be going home soon, even if he froze his balls off.
• • •
“Connor, boyo, how long are you going to stay out there, shivering like a lost mutt in the cold?”
Evelyn’s father had a smooth brogue, albeit loud, like every other Irishman Connor had met in his short lifetime. The sudden voice coming from the back of Evelyn’s house startled Connor from his position at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t been waiting there long, but he had hoped Evelyn would join him outside if she saw him there.
“It’s not that cold, sir,” Connor mumbled against the neck of his coat.
That was a lie.
It was feckin’ cold.
Declan raised a single eyebrow, his silent way of calling out the lie. “It’s cold, Connor.”
Connor shrugged. “Guess so.”
“Evelyn’s had a nasty cold all week—she’s not allowed outside in this mess to play.”
His shoulders dropped at that statement. “Oh.”
Declan sighed loudly. “You can come in, I suppose, but not for long. Does your father know you’re over here today?”
Connor shook his head.
His father wouldn’t be happy if he did know.
Declan didn’t even look surprised at the omission. “Get in the feckin’ house, before your fingers fall off from the cold, and your father comes over here, looking for me when he figures out where ye went to, lad.”
Evelyn’s dad was a strange man—especially where Connor and his father were concerned. Declan didn’t talk very fondly of Sean, though Connor knew the two worked together for that thing they called the organization. And even though Declan was the man that Connor had heard others call their leader, or the boss, he’d also seen Declan give Sean a wide berth of space whenever the two were near each other.
Which wasn’t very often.
Connor didn’t understand a whole lot about it.
He figured it didn’t much matter.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Declan’s irritation spilled over into his tone, and it sent Connor running for the back of the house. The tall man stepped aside to let him in, but made sure to tell him not to get the snow all over the floor before he closed the door.
“Evelyn’s in her room with that damn cat of hers—keep the door open, understand?”
Connor nodded. “Yes, sir.”
It took Connor no time at all to strip down from his winter clothes, and head for the back of the bungalow style house where he knew Evelyn’s room was. While he’d been allowed inside once or twice before, he’d never been allowed inside his friend’s bedroom, but he still knew where it was because she had told him.
Sure enough, Evelyn sat on her bed in pink pajamas, her hair tied up in a high pony-tail, and Kitty sleeping in between her crossed legs. She had an opened bottle of nail polish that she was carefully balancing on her pillow as she tried to paint a streak of blue on her fingernail. Once she saw Connor standing in the doorway, she pushed all the stuff aside, except Kitty, and smiled.
“Daidí said I couldn’t play today,” she said.
Connor could tell why as soon as she spoke—her words sounded different, stuffy maybe, like her nose was full. “It’s okay.”
“Want me to paint your nails?”
He made a face. “Nah, that’s okay.”
That wasn’t a guy thing, really.
“Want to help me paint Kitty’s nails?” she asked.
“He probably won’t—”
Evelyn’s laughter interrupted him from saying more. “Kitty is a girl, just like I said. Daidí says the vet told him so. She’s all fixed now—no kittens, no scratching.”
Well, then …
Connor strolled forward, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How’d they do that?”
“Some operations. She had bandages on her belly and paws for days.”
He frowned. “Did it hurt her?”
“I think so—I had to be careful, and not hold her too tightly.”
Kitty looked okay, now. Her multi-colored ears flicked as Connor tickled and rubbed the cat’s head. She was a great deal bigger than she had been when he handed her over to Evelyn a couple of months earlier. He knew her father hadn’t been very impressed by the kitten, but had allowed her to keep it.
“Is it very cold outside?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes. Didn’t you see the snow when you went to school this week?”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “I don’t go to school; I learn here, with Miss Teal.”
Connor hadn’t known that at all. Evelyn was only a few months younger than he was, her sixth birthday was next month; she had told him so. He thought she just went to a different school than him, even if they lived in the same area. Some kids did.
“Oh,” he said lamely.
“Hey.” Evelyn’s voice dropped to a whisper, her gaze darting toward the open doorway. “Want to see my drawings this week?”
Connor nodded, sitting down on the edge of her bed as Evelyn pulled her spiral sketchpad out from beneath her pillow. She never went very far without her drawings, and a pencil, in case she found something to try and draw. She was very careful about letting people see inside her books—only letting people see what she wanted them to.
He didn’t understand, but he listened when she told him no.
Evelyn flipped open the book, going back a good ten pages, to where she stopped at the drawing of a flower. Sometimes, her drawings were very real-looking, other times, they were more like blobs and scratches that barely made a form at all. Connor had seen different drawings of hers for a whole year since they had become friends, and each one got a wee bit better than the last. Not perfect, and they still looked like a kid had drawn them, but better.
That said something.
“That’s cool,” Connor said about the flower.
Evelyn nodded, but flipped the page.
For a long while, Connor stared at the rough image on the page, trying to discern what it was exactly. Of course, he picked up the human shape right away, but it was the other details on the image that confused him.
His childlike mind couldn’t process …
A woman, he knew. Naked, because her breasts were out, although misshapen and odd, and her hair was long. She looked to be on her stomach, lying on something, but her head was pulled back, and her chest was pushed out.
Connor kept staring, though a part of him wanted to look away.
Evelyn had tried to draw people before, and those drawings weren’t much better than this one, as learning took time, and a lot of practice. But he could still tell things about the image.
Like the naked woman.
And the ropes tied around parts of her body.
“Keep that door open!”
The bellow from down the hall made Evelyn slam her sketchpad closed, her gaze shooting to her doorway.
“What was that?” Connor asked.
“My dad.”
“No, the—”
Evelyn loo
ked up at him, her eyes wide with something he didn’t understand. “I found pictures. In my daidí’s office.” She glanced down at her book, her hand placing down overtop it as if to keep it closed. “This was one of them—I wanted to show you.”
Connor didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t … understand.
“Do you know what that means?” she asked him. “Why he had them—why she had no clothes and was tied up?”
Connor shook his head.
He didn’t know about any of that stuff.
He wished she didn’t, either.
However it was that she knew.
It wasn’t long after Evelyn’s nanny had brought soup and bread to them for lunch, that Connor realized the time, and that he had to leave. The nanny—an older woman who was nothing like the maids his father had—rarely said a word to Connor when she was around, but he was thankful she had reminded him of the time.
He’d been gone too long.
Evelyn’s father had said his visit would be a short one, but he must have not minded him being there after all.
Connor didn’t really want to go, but it was better he did before his father came looking for him.
That didn’t stop him from taking the walk home a bit slower than he normally would. Even with his winter clothes on, the chill still seeped through the heavy fabrics, making him shiver. His boots crunched on the snow with every step he took. The cold weather made him think of the last two kittens denning under the old shed with their mother. He was happy that Kitty had a good, warm home with Evelyn, but he worried about the others.
Connor settled himself on checking the cats before he went home, despite knowing he should go right inside.
As he rounded the final turn on the path that would lead him to the spot where he could come out of the woods behind the shed and not be seen from the house, Connor knew something was … off. The denseness of the woods was lessened after the leaves had fallen, leaving the tree line more open than it was during the rest of the year. He could see from his position on the turn that the trail he had made from the back of the house to the shed, and then to the woods, was more beaten down than it was that morning when he’d left.
His father rarely came outside when he wanted Connor out of the house—Sean never buggered about in the shed, if he did come outside. Yet, the closer Connor came, the more obvious it was to him that the large footprints in the snow overtop his likely belonged to his father.