"Howl's Love Advice"

Chapter 52: Clean Streak

For the first time this week, Sophie felt like hitting someone other than Howl.

"You lied to me?" she bit out, trying not to raise her voice since Markl was playing in the nearby living room. If that's what it even was. It was impossible to tell beneath the clutter.

"Just hear me out," Calcifer said sheepishly, but Sophie cut him off.

"Is there or is there not paperwork for me to fill out?"

"Uh, no, but -"

"You lied!"

"Okay I did, and I'm so sorry, but if ya'd just -"

"Does Howl even know I'm here?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if ya'd show up, so..."

Sophie abruptly stood. She couldn't do this. What if Howl saw her invading his privacy? Oh how she wished she hadn't dismissed that taxi driver!

"Sophie, wait, please," Calcifer begged, palms open on the island countertop between them. "The emergency bit was the truth! This is about Markl."

Furrowing her brow, Sophie reluctantly glanced over at the little boy again. For the first time, she noticed the resemblance between his hair color and Calcifer's. "Is he yours?"

"Aw hell no!" At her frown, Calcifer hastily amended, "I mean, the kid's great and all. He's, well, it's kinda confidential information." The redhead seemed to debate for a second. "That park you mentioned meeting him at? That's where Markl's old friends from the children's home play. Markl is adopted."

Reality picked itself up and fell over sideways.

Calcifer wasn't Markl's father.

So if Markl was living in Howl's house, then did that mean...?

"Howl finalized it a few months back, so a caseworker still swings by to make sure everything's dandy which, as ya can see, it's not." Calcifer gestured helplessly at the messy house. "Howl's gettin' here as fast as he can, but I've got barely two hours to clean this place so please help me. You're the only person I could ask. I swear it ain't for vengeance this time!"

Sophie stared at him in shock.

Howl had a son.

As in the love doctor who ate drama flakes for breakfast.

As in the man who couldn't commit to a meeting with his own grandmother.

Sophie cast her dazed sight about her - at the peanut-butter smudged cabinets, the containers of uncovered food, the miniature airplanes and plastic swords stabbed into the laundry pile, the piles of books and dirty socks and bottles and soft toy animals - and then her attention caught on a wrinkled photograph magnetized to the fridge. The photo's edges had been overlaid by various papers and crayon drawings, but the brightness of the scene was not diminished: Markl laughing merrily, his arms wrapped around Howl's neck in a hug.

The joy on Howl's face reminded her of another time, of an older man with warm, brown eyes, and of days before hospital beds and sunless mornings.

When Markl proudly skipped into the kitchen a moment later, Sophie knew what she had to do.

She knelt and looked the little boy in the eyes.

"Would you like to play a game?"


Howl mashed the accelerator pedal like there was a witch on his trail.

Why, of all his sponsors, had he chosen to meet the one in Market Chipping? There had been 60 miles between him and his home when the caseworker had called, and she never rescheduled.

Damn it, what if she arrives early again?

By the time his home hill came into view, Howl was close to full-scale panic. He threw his car into park next to Calcifer's jeep and raced for the front door.

"Markl! Calcifer! Drop everything, we're moving!" he yelled as he burst into his house. "Just throw some underwear in a bag and get in the car!"

Not even bothering to remove his shoes, he hurtled into the living room, where he promptly barreled down the last person he expected to see this side of hell.

Laundry flew everywhere.

Howl groaned as he picked himself off the floor. His eyes met Sophie's, and the two of them reared back, like unfamiliar cats upon meeting at a street corner.

Sophie's hands tightened around the empty laundry basket.

His basket.

In his house.

What was Sophie doing in his house?

"Daddy!" Markl yelled, and Howl felt more than the metaphorical wind knocked out of him as his son tackled his stomach. "Daddy, Sophie's here! And you're late! If you don't hurry, you won't get any!" Markl spun towards Sophie. "How much time I got?"

"Five minutes," his secretary said after a pause.

"Thanks!"

Howl's brows twisted as Markl ran off. "Won't get any what?"

"Scones."

A yelp split the air. Howl turned to see Calcifer using a spoon to tentatively prod a sizzling something in a cast iron pan. Calcifer never cooked. He had sworn it off after that stove-top fire a couple years back.

The redhead caught him gawking and scowled. "This ain't my idea. She bullied me!"

"Markl hasn't eaten breakfast," Sophie defended. She swiftly gathered the spilled laundry and propped the basket on her hip. That's when Howl noticed she was wearing pants. She actually owned normal clothes! As if sensing his thoughts, Sophie swept him with a look that felt uncomfortably like a dressing down (not to be confused with "undressing", he would know). "Get the plates. I'll have Markl wash up."

Howl's jaw dropped as she strode out of the living room. "Get the plates… Calcifer, why in the blazes is she here?"

"Because I asked her. It was too much for just me an' the kid!"

Howl sniffed the air and rushed into the kitchen. "Give that to me," he demanded, pushing his friend away from the stove, "and hand me a plate and six more of those eggs. Did I raise a hooligan? You're burning the bacon letting them sit like this!"

"Here's one for ya: may all your bacon burn," Calcifer spat. "All this work and not one lousy thank you."

Gritting his teeth, Howl briskly rescued the meat onto a plate before turning to fully absorb what they had done in his absence.

It was far from immaculate.

There were still little messes in every corner.

But overall, the house looked presentable.

The fear that had been ravaging him for the past two hours released him like a fist.

"Don't get too relieved," mumbled Calcifer, awkwardly patting Howl on the back as he slumped across the island counter. "We tossed it all in the downstairs den."

"I don't care," Howl said. And he didn't. All that mattered was that this post-placement adoption visit went well.

His thoughts shifted to the woman currently in the backroom with his son. "Sophie knows about Markl."

"She said they already met at the park."

Howl groaned.

"Dad, why's your face all red?"

And with that, the doorbell rang.