Freedom in Chains

by Ann Raina

  "Someone familiar?" He looked over her shoulder when he handed her the picture.

  "Yes." Kyra compared the two pictures. "It's not from the same event, but I'd say it's the same man. Don't you?"

  "That's Cresgood, the mayor."

  "So?"

  "You don't assume the mayor's my father, right?"

  Kyra frowned at the sudden anger in Julian's voice. "Why not? It was you who said that your mother knew he was some important person."

  "Kyra, are you…no, that's bullshit, you can't assume he's my father." He took back the picture. "And I told you not to dig."

  "Listen, he married his wife Katherine in 1999. That's clearly after you were born. So if he had a relationship with your mother it wasn't an escapade. He had no obligations at that time."

  "Fine. What would that tell me?"

  "No, that's the wrong question. It would mean that he could accept you as his son of a deceased lover and would not compromise his wife."

  Julian's nostrils were wide and his anger flared like a living beast. "I told you I don't want any digging. No investigation, no trying to find him. He dropped my mother when he could have stayed and taken responsibility. Now she's dead and I have moved on. I don't need no father, no fucking man who tells me that I lived my life a shitty way!"

  "Did I mention that I just wanted to help?" Kyra asked. His anger ignited her fear. She felt it on her skin, in all the goose bumps along her arms and down her back. She watched him cautiously.

  "You want to help, yes. But isn't it just that you want to prove a point?"

  "No."

  "I'm the bastard child of a poor woman who didn't even know the father of her only child. So my life was predestined the moment she died. No training, no job, no nothing. And now convicted for dealing with Fidelity. That fits, doesn't it?"

  "I did not say that the mayor is your father. But the resemblance is there."

  "And what would you do?" He stooped to her so quickly she jerked back, dropping the paper. His eyes were wild. "Make an appointment and say that you wanted him to know of his son who's a convicted criminal? Was that on your mind?"

  "A blood test would confirm the relationship. I think I could bring the mayor to comply with it to avoid press involvement etcetera. After that…and if it would be positive you could go on and build a real relationship or drop the idea. That wouldn't be my story to tell."

  "You're a dreamer, Kyra." He pushed himself off the couch and paced the living room. "You live in an ivory tower. Not as thick as that of your mother's, but…firm."

  "Come on! Don't gimme that crap!"

  He stopped, his eyes fierce, conveying anger, but also disbelief. "The mayor would move heaven and hell to get me out of his way, out of town, out of the States! He would never in life accept me and make that public."

  "He has got no son. And he's about to retire. Even if you were not named his son you could still stay in contact. He could help you move on in your life."

  "Do I need a retired mayor to do that?"

  She swallowed. "No, probably not." She bent to collect the scattered paper. "So drop the idea, drop the chance. It's fine with me."

  "You'll really forget about it?"

  She looked up, bundling and shifting the loose pages. "If you want to be an ignorant, I'll respect your ignorance. You were right to call me lucky that I know both my parents and that they treat me nice. Sometimes overbearing, but okay, I can live with that. Your mom couldn't be saved, that's a fact, too. But I, for my person, wouldn't throw away the chance to either learn of my father or at least know that the mayor isn't."

  "I don't…" He shook his head and his anger mellowed. "I don't want to know. Not anymore."

  She stood to meet him halfway, cocking her head. "Does the idea scare you that your father might be a celebrity?" He weighed his head. "When he loved your mother he was not. He was a politician already, but not that famous."

  "So why did he leave her?" The overwhelming anger was back for a second then only sadness prevailed. "Why didn't he stay to see me grow up? Was my mother such a bad person that he wouldn't stay with her?"

  "They might have had very different reasons. We never know exactly why people love or leave each other. Okay, in case of Chris and me I'm sure why I wanted to be rid of this asshole, but in general you can't force people to love each other. It just happens. And sometimes this love ends. One part's sad enough to lose, the other's sad to cause pain. But they both have to move on. You told me that your mom described your father in a good way. Maybe this was how she saw him. A good man. To her chagrin one that didn't stay to love her till she died."

  Julian's mouth twitched. He hung his head, thinking if he could accept the explanation, which was so far away from his own. Years of frustration rammed into a completely new view. He parted his lips then, gently took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Do you think of me as a good man?"

  If being startled could cause a heat wave they would both have sweat. Kyra fought for words. She had thought her statement to be an explanation about Julian's parents, but her intentions had hit home differently. "Yes," she breathed. "I think you are a good man."

  Julian exhaled as if weights and more had been lifted off his chest. He stooped to kiss her and this time she did not draw back.

  * * * *

  "I think I really like having you around." Kyra handed Julian one more straw angel to hang up high on the Christmas tree. He gave her the look she deserved and she smiled. He made her feel so comfortable it was surprising. Ever and again. "Do you think that painting the ceiling in the hall is an option for after Christmas?"

  "Sure. Damn it!"

  "What?" Kyra busily searched for a set of straw stars to alternate with the angels.

  "The thread sticks and won't come loose! How do I get that straw thing off again? And the needles prick!"

  Kyra laughed at his annoyed tone. "Oh, come on, my dear Julian, you sound as if this were the first Christmas you ever decorated."

  "It is my first tree." He fumbled to get the red thread of the angel figure out. "Don't gimme that pitiful look, Kyra, I can't stand it! Fuck!" The angel came off, but the thread was torn. "Sorry for that." He exchanged the angel for another. "My mom was never a person to celebrate Christmas." He shrugged and placed the thread over a twig more carefully than before. "Small wonder if you don't have money." The angel dangled from the twig and Kyra handed him a handful of stars next. He glanced at her, anger filling his eyes. "You still pity me. For God's sake, I'm twenty-seven now, and I'm really beyond the age of missing Christmas gifts or something like that."

  "Shall I say that I'm sorry for being sorry? I know that there are a lot of people out there in need of money or a home and family. That doesn't mean that I stop caring. And I do care for you and your life." She stepped closer while he had his hands between two twigs to place a star. "Julian, we're learning more of each other every day. What's so bad about taking care or thinking about your life?"

  Julian dropped his hands. Kyra was close enough to embrace him around the waist and his tension loosened with her touch. She loved to have such an influence on him. "I hate being pitied. I share my past with you, but not to be pitied."

  "I know that."

  "Christmas doesn't mean anything to me."

  "Maybe we can change that." She looked up to him, flashing a smile. He took the invitation for a light kiss. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered then straightened and let go of him. "And now, since it's almost noon, we should get this tree done."

  "All that you want."

  Oliver entered across the rear porch and quickly closed the glass door. "I heard that last sentence." He bent slightly forward, his voice was low and his green eyes held the hint of seduction. "Tell it to me face-to-face and I'll tell you what I want."

  "You bet." Julian glared at him, but his anger was pretended. After all, Kyra had confided that she had learned quite a few things from Oliver so Julian could do nothing but be grateful.

  Right,
and Antarctica was a green, green island. Kyra stifled a laugh. "Thanks that you arranged the appointment with the barber," she said to Oliver who stood looking up the tree with his arms propped on his hips and his paunch turning outward. A gesture like a very satisfied Buddha.

  He turned his head to her. "Yes, sure, though I don't know why you assumed I'd know a barber who'd make house calls."

  "'Cos you're gay," Julian stated matter-of-factly from his place behind the tree where he hung some more angels and stars.

  "Oh, that's something new." He wiggled his brows and, getting closer slowly, added in a husky, seductive voice, "But you were lucky, honey-baby, that I knew quite the right person, hmm? Didn't I?" The last was almost a melody. Oliver was so pleased with himself Kyra smiled.

  "If he had done more than cutting my hair I'd have eaten him for breakfast."

  "Julian!"

  "Oh, that's all right. I know him." Oliver grinned and the Buddha image in Kyra's head manifested. "You've seen him, haven't you? He's quite a bite."

  "He was very polite and helpful," Kyra said to save the situation. The barber had indeed been a bite, but more in the sense that Oliver preferred him undressed and chained. Oh, well, living next door to Oliver had its ups and downs. The barber with his frilly blond hair, the diamond earring and golden chain had heated up the room in his own special way. Julian had had his hair stood on end the whole time--not only literally--and Kyra had barely avoided a laughing fit. "I really like him. And the haircut. He did a good job. I suppose, it's the way Julian wanted it…though he didn't say much." She glanced at her favorite convict who pretended to be angrier than ever.

  "I'll tell him," Oliver promised, his gaze amused.

  Julian appeared from behind the tree, glancing at Kyra and Oliver as if he suspected them to unite behind his back. Kyra handed him the candles. "Genuine candles?" he asked. "Do you know how many accidents happen every year with fire in the house?"

  "I know, but…"

  "Do you really want them on the tree? I mean, we could have candles on the table or the boards. But…within the tree? That's really dangerous. At least that's what I think."

  "I don't have any animals so why should it be…"

  "You don't?" Oliver asked and pointed at the cream-colored cat with long fur that hurried through the living room and into the kitchen. It was up the cabinet in one elegant jump. "Then who's this?"

  "Mrs. Bickerham's," Kyra and Julian said simultaneously. They laughed and Oliver flicked his brows, a knowing smile on his lips.

  "Ah…and Mrs. Bickerham leant you this one?"

  "No, it must have slipped in with you." Kyra turned to search for the cat, but when she got into the kitchen the cat ran across the carpet and vanished into the hall. "Great," she sighed. "Now the cat chase is open."

  "I can get her for you," Julian offered. "A friend of mine had three cats. If you know what to do they're easy to handle." He handed her the candles and went for the hall.

  "Sure. Be my guest." Kyra returned to Oliver who gazed up the tree. "Now? What do you say?"

  "About what in particular?" he asked quietly. "The tree, the excellent haircut or the fact that you bought him new clothes? Again?"

  Kyra made a face. "I know. But I like shopping for him. I asked him to go with me, but I think he's too embarrassed to accompany me while he still wears that collar. You know, people staring at him and me having to take him around handcuffed. That's not…" She shrugged. "You know."

  "I got it." His smile was friendly and warm like a cozy blanket. "But you bought a complete wardrobe by now. And you seem to know which colors suit him best. I really like that gray knit pullover with the cornrows. It's an excellent choice. He looks even taller and more muscled in it. If that's possible. And the jeans… Do you buy them one size smaller than he needs them? I mean," he countered her reply, "do you have his ass measured before? I don't believe you can buy pants without him ever trying them on!"

  "Guess I have him measured with my eyes."

  "Oh, well. He's one lucky guy."

  "Jealous?"

  "The last time someone bought clothes for me I was…let me think, fifteen. After that time I preferred to go shopping alone. But I think it would be nice if my lover bought stuff for me."

  "I just do it because--"

  "You do it because you like dressing him, Kyra." He gave her a look that told her he knew exactly what she thought. She stopped pretending and just sighed. "See? Chris tried to influence you and you rebelled. Julian doesn't and you live it up. That's okay."

  "No, it's much better than that." She stopped when she heard the cat hiss with anger. Julian cursed, but kept chasing the little fur ball. "You should've seen his eyes. He was…happy like a child."

  "What did you buy him for Christmas?"

  Kyra hummed and grinned. "You want to know, hmm?"

  "That's why I ask because I already got something for him."

  "Oh, oh, I think, I don't want to know what that is."

  The cat made a very elegant jump across the small board in the hall and was back in the living room in a flash. Kyra only saw a glimpse of cream-colored fur, then nothing, but a swishing tail. The cat hid under a chair close to the chimney. Christmas decorations and strings of pearl hung down tempting, but the cat was not interested.

  Julian came next, looking for the small beast, and Kyra and Oliver pointed under the chair. "Damn that fur ball!" he said. Oliver bit his lips. "Open the porch door, we'll chase it out."

  Oliver did it, but the cat made no move to run outside. It was much too cold, the reason, Kyra thought, why it first had come in. "It's not really cooperating," Oliver observed.

  Julian crouched toward the chair and, now cornered, the cat made the only move possible--up the Christmas tree. "Get out of there!" Julian shouted. "That's our tree, not yours!" His agitation drove the cat further up, nimbly and fun to watch. Julian had to straighten to reach for it. Stars and angels danced and the glittering chains in between came loose. "Got it!" he shouted in triumph and pulled down the struggling, scratching and hissing cat. The tree wavered and shook and some pieces of the decoration rained down. "Shall I throw it out?"

  "Good idea," Kyra said when the door bell rang. "Or maybe not."

  Julian beat her to the door and, the cat held by its neck, opened the door. Mrs. Bickerham looked up to him. The moment she realized who he was she gawked and stepped back.

  "Your cat?" He held it out so that she could see the mass of fur on four legs squirming in the tight grip. Its tail rotated and switched and the claws dug into everything in reach.

  "You're…you're the lawnmower!"

  "Yes, but right now I have a very agitated cat here who wants to go home."

  "Oh! Oh, yes, that's mine! Grisella, come here to mommy!" She took the fighting animal, but could not get it under control. The cat jumped off her hands and ran like hell through the front garden. Mrs. Bickerham looked back to Julian. "Now, at least she's running home. That's a good sign. And you should wash yourself, mister, you've got some scratches." She pointed at them.

  "From your cat."

  "Obviously. Put some iodine on them." She squinted and eyed him closer. "You're one of the convicts, right? I hope you thank Ms. Jennings every day for the chance she gives you. A good day to you." She left.

  Julian closed the door, anger burning like fire on his face.

  "I'll look after the scratches, Julian," Kyra offered, her voice soothing. She glanced at him, trying to calm him down. His eyes were so wild her heartbeat sped up. "Sit on the couch. Please."

  "She didn't even apologize!"

  "She's Mrs. Bickerham," Kyra said on the way to the bathroom. "She doesn't apologize because she thinks the whole area belongs to her."

  "Including slaves in kennels." Oliver grinned. "Hell, that beast really cut you up!" He stepped closer, hissing air through his teeth. "My, that looks awful. What did you say your friend had? Cats? Genuine or…"

  "Perish the thought," Julian growled and kept his
arms from his jeans as he sat down. Kyra brought antiseptics, gauze and bandages and knelt before him. Blood trickled down his forearms where the cat had done the most damage. "Hey, it's not that bad. It didn't slice me up."

  "It's bad enough." She cleaned the cuts. "Cat scratches get easily infected."

  He flinched. "Says you who has no animal."

  "Says me who knows about the Bickerham cats. They're always outdoors. You don't know where the cat's been before. Oh, that one's really deep. Didn't you say that you know cats?"

  Julian took a deep, deep breath and clenched his teeth. Oliver fought to stay sober, but his eyes were laughing, and a second later he roared loud enough to make Kyra turn her head.

  "Anything funny that I missed?"

  "Nope." Oliver stepped back, fighting in vain to stop.

  "Yes," Julian said. "Next time I push Mrs. Bickerham up the tree to catch her damned cat alone!"

  "Oh, come on, she's a nice old lady. You wouldn't harass nice old ladies, would you?"

  Julian's glare found Oliver's reddened face. "Maybe I should harass overweight neighbors about age thirty."

  "How flattering." Oliver bowed.

  "Don't outlive your luck, neighbor."

  Kyra looked from Julian to Oliver and back. "What are you guys doing behind my back?"

  "Nothin'."

  She frowned. "Tomorrow's Christmas, and as far as I know we'll have company. So you both better keep your shirts on, okay?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Julian said, but it was strained.

  Kyra finished dressing the scratches and he stood up so quickly Oliver stepped backward, even though it spoke of his anxiety. "Shirts stay on." He retreated.

  "Shirts have nothing to do with this."

  "Guess they have."

  "Boys." Kyra stepped between them, shaking her head, tired to have them brawling. "Come on, stop bickering. We got a tree to finish…"

  "No real candles," Oliver said. "Julian's very right about this. I've got electric candles if you want them."

  "Okay, before I start a debate about this…"

  "Great." Oliver almost bounced into the porch door and was gone. Kyra turned to Julian.