"I could eat a horse" Grandpa said as he pulled into the driveway, killing the engine as the car aligned neatly with the porch, "lucky I got some horse stew in the freezer, won't take but five minutes to get heat up in the microwave. Your mother bought it for me, did you know that? Christmas present. Years ago, now. The microwave, that is. Not the stew. I made that just under a month ago. See, back then I'd been using the stove and oven but she insisted and well, just between you and me, I love that thing. Old now but still does the job..." he pulled the keys out of the ignition and slipped them in the pocket of his old jacket, "I guess it's kind of like me. Still functioning but rough around the edges..."
Not really paying attention, Elizabeth understood he'd come to a stop and gave him a small, ghost of a smile and nodded in response.
He fiddled with his seatbelt, "I was just kidding about the horse. It's beef. Beef stew. I thought you would have called me on the joke. Do you want some?"
Horse?
She smiled again, unlatched her seatbelt and opened the door. Sliding her body out of the passenger seat, she realized that he'd mentioned a horse stew but barely paying attention, she hadn't even really twigged that he'd been teasing her about it. She was sure all meat was on the menu for him, so that hadn't even registered as strange.
Besides, her thoughts were elsewhere and she thought he knew as much.
That's why he had been talking her ear off the entire drive home.
"I'm not that hungry, Grandpa" she said gently, not wanting to offend him but really just lacking the energy to really try and push past her feelings of hurt.
Her hand ached, her body ached, she was tired, exhausted and her heart? She just felt so miserable.
She heard his door slam.
"No appetite, huh?"
She shrugged and shut her own door.
No appetite kind of summed it up.
She stood and paused for a moment, frowning up at the house. Without the bright headlights of the car illuminating it, it remained covered in the early darkness.
There wasn't a single light on.
That was weird.
Was Sammy just relaxing in the dark?
Already in bed?
Grandpa stomped up onto the wide porch, kicking his feet against the wood. It looked like he was trying to rub off dirt from his boots and she guessed it must have been a habit of his. He moved to tug open the door but apparently it was locked. His hand jerked off the handle and he gave a grunt of surprise. Digging the keys out of his pocket, he gave her a little shrug, "well that's new. Door seems to always be open recently"
She supposed it was. With everyone coming and going...she barely even took her keys with her when she went outside. She opened her mouth to ask him where he thought Sammy was but something caught her eye: the papers from the hospital. They were rolled in his back pocket, sticking out comically and anhothe time she would have laughed at him, giggled at the way he was carrying important documents but this time, she felt a lump in her throat at the sight of them.
She'd been distracted by the house but then she was brought back to reality, reminded of her hurt. It was almost like the documents - insurance receipts and invoices - were taunting her.
Reminding her.
The door swung open and she shook her head a little.
"Sammy?" Grandpa called out.
The silence pressed in.
There was no welcoming bark from Nanook and no answering call from Sammy.
She sighed and folded her arms, the thick bandage feeling weird against her uninjured hand.
Just last night she had been pranked by the stupid, wonderful idiot boys she loved. She'd confessed her plans to her mate. She'd had the most amazing, passionate sex on the roof of her house, of all places. She'd been embarrassed, she'd been a victor, then the loser once again. She'd been kissed and loved so intensely she thought she would pass out...and then she had been attacked. Shouted at by her brother. Poked, prodded by doctors and here she was again. Back in the house, eyes heavy with sleep but a feeling of sadness, pain and emptiness so strong, it felt like she would never be able to sleep for the weight of it.
A lot had happened in such a short space of time.
A lot to take in.
With her good hand, she rubbed her eyes.
Grandpa flicked the light switch on with his elbow and Elizabeth didn't even need to flinch as the room was illuminated. All of the lights were a soft, almost orange sort of yellow. There was none of the harsh, bright, blindingly white lights of the hospital.
Grandpa called out again, waited for a second before muttering, "I guess he's out?"
Elizabeth figured that any barks from Nanook or any answering call from her brother would have been decidedly unwelcoming, so perhaps the stillness was better than answering company.
"...guess so" she murmured in response, edging the front door closed with the heel of her foot.
He shrugged in complacent confusion before dropping his keys on the side table and walking into the empty kitchen.
Elizabeth looked up at the staircase. She wanted nothing more than to go to her room, to curl up in bed and cry. She could feel it, she could feel the tears waiting and she knew that one way or another, they were going to come. She thought that's why Grandpa had been extra attentive to her: he was waiting for them, too. She also knew that he would forgive her if she went straight up but it felt like such a rude thing to do. After everything he had done for her that long day, to go upstairs without even so much as a small conversation would be wrong.
She also thought he might try to follow her up. She knew he wanted to support her, he wanted to help her. That's what was compelling her to stay with him for a bit. She felt guilty but it was what it was.
She wanted to be alone. She was going to breakdown and she didn't want an audience for it.
She just didn't want that support or help just yet.
She could tell he was already worrying and fretting over her. The long-winded sentences, stories, the side eyes and the sweet little nudges and side cuddles. He'd been very careful with her.
She loved him very much but she didn't want his sympathy or care right then.
Everything was still too raw.
She just wanted to go upstairs and cry into her pillow, to let out her hurt and pain and fall asleep.
She didn't want to have him try and work it all out with her, to talk through all of the bad feelings - the bad feelings that were swelling and expanding and threatening to overcome her - because she knew they would take time to pass.
This was the sort of hurt that only time could heal.
No amounts of cuddles from her grandfather or fussing from her mother could really make it right. She was thankful that he cared about her but it made her feel guilty, too, because she knew he wanted to help.
The fact was, he just couldn't.
She nodded to herself.
Yes, she was sure he would want to try and talk to her and while she wasn't ready to have the conversation, the least she could do was accommodate him.
Sit with him for a spell, try and assure him that she was fine. Lie to him. Be polite and then retreat upstairs to the privacy of her room.
Taking a small breath, she followed him into the kitchen.
"Hey, what's the time there, kiddo?"
She looked as Grandpa squinted with his mouth hanging a little open. He was staring at a scrap of paper clutched in his hand.
He must have picked it up from the kitchen table.
She glanced up at the clock, "seven?"
"Christ, but that was a long day..." he said to himself, dropping the paper and letting it float back down to the table. He looked up at her, "and you, sugar, barely ate. Can I make you something for dinner? I know you don't rate my culinary skills too highly but that stew really is good. I can have it ready in five minutes"
"Are you sure it's not horse?" she asked him, trying to smile as she shook her head in mild rejection. She hoped she could still his worry with a little joke. She was hungry but she didn't have the energy or the will to eat. She felt so pathetic but if she was being honest with herself, she'd never before felt quite this miserable, "I'm fine, thank you. I'm just not so hungry"
He wouldn't be swayed.
"It's been a long day. Here, how about I make you some toast? It'll sit easy in your stomach"
There was concern in his voice and she couldn't even object for he was already rooting through the stuffed bread bin. He must have known she was going to shake her head at that, too and was getting in before she could.
All Elizabeth could do was nod unnecessarily and slide into the closest chair, tilting her head as she quickly scanned the abandoned paper.
She frowned and picked it up, her bandaged hand resting awkwardly on her thigh.
'Hi Grandpa-'
The scraggly, scrawled handwriting wasn't as messy as usual. That alone made her think her brother had written carefully and thoughtfully rather than in the rambling way he usually did. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign but he was showing a measure of control he never usually did. His notes were usually written without planning or care, littered with errors and crossed out words, sometimes whole sentences were scribbled out. Just looking at the note, she got the feeling her brother was being careful to censure himself.
It made her bristle but she couldn't help but continue to read.
'I'm with Nanook at the Comic Book shop. I didn't want to be here alone and I definitely didn't want to leave him, either. I'm taking my bike down. Could you please pick me up at eight thirty? If you can, please phone the shop to let me know. If you don't phone before eight fifteen, I will cycle home. I would appreciate a ride. Thank you in advance. Your grandson, Sam'
There was a number printed neatly at the bottom of the page.
It was such a cold and formal note, it was absolutely nothing like he would usually write.
There was also a painfully obvious, clear omission in the letter: any mention of her.
That stung.
Given everything that had happened at the hospital, it stung badly. She loved her brother and sure, emotions had been high but she still loved him. She was angry with him but she still loved him...and she didn't even get a mention?
How did he know she was OK?
She swallowed thickly.
"Are you going to pick him up?" she asked quietly, just wanting to fill the silence.
Silence meant she was just alone with her thoughts and right then, it was getting harder and harder to keep her composure.
He hadn't even asked after her. Not even a little P.S at the end.
She pushed the note away.
"Yeah. I just about figure I will. He's a good kid but I don't know if I trust him to bike all the way back here in the dark. I'm surprised he uses his bike, to be honest. He just doesn't seem the type" he laughed a little with a shake of his head, probably thinking of Sammy's fashionable clothes and disgust of all things dirty and dusty, "besides, it ain't safe at night and the bike'll fit easily in the truck" he pulled some butter out from the fridge, clearly being careful to focus on the task at hand and not look at her, "listen, Lizzie-"
Oh no.
She knew that tone. The lack of eye contact, the casual and long winded lead-in.
No.
She couldn't, not then.
"-I'm OK. Really, Grandpa. I'm fine"
Her injured hand still rested heavily on her thigh. It was bandaged tightly; the nurse having done an efficient job and she glanced down at it, knowing full well that he wasn't talking about that.
She just hoped he could take the hint.
Apparently, he could.
"I liked the nurses a lot more than I liked the doctor" Grandpa said with a small smile, turning back to the toaster as it ejected the perfectly browned bread with a loud pop, "you have the tablets, right? Didn't leave them in the car?"
"I do, yeah" she told him, patting her pocket with her good hand. The tablets inside their orange container rattled a little, "I'm glad we asked the nurse for them. It's already starting to sting a little"
The pain wasn't bad, not like before but it was definitely creeping back again.
"I'd take them before bed. That way the pain won't keep you up"
"Yeah" she agreed.
Silently, she thought other things would do the job just fine.
"I wonder when your doctor will be heading home?"
She watched as he buttered the toast.
"Now, I hope? I have the feeling it'll be later, though. Guess doctors don't get much sleep"
Her mom had tried hard to clean up her hand in the house but the pain was too much and every time some antiseptic touched the wound or even a gentle stream of water grazed it, she'd snatched her hand back. Still, it had been a patient and kind effort on her mother's part. A failure, yes, but a good effort all the same. In the end, she'd had to carefully slide on some clothes - a pair of Michael's old sweatpants and tee that she'd liberated from him years ago - and gingerly cover her hand in a dishtowel to stop smearing drying, congealing blood everywhere. Her grandfather had used his old beaten truck to take her to the hospital, chatting with her the whole way there, doing a good job of keeping her mind off her brother and her hand.
Sammy had refused to leave his room.
She hadn't seen him once after the initial bite.
She and Grandpa had arrived at the hospital around nine in the morning and had been seated for about thirty minutes before someone came to check on her. She wasn't screaming, crying, writhing or bleeding out, so she wasn't exactly a big priority. The staff had seemed pretty exhausted and a little overrun, as if they'd only just gotten over a mad rush. Grandpa had muttered to her that she was coming in after a night in Santa Carla and that the nurses, doctors and staff had probably dealt with a non-stop stream of drunks, drugged and who knew what.
The first nurse who had seen her, after ushering the two of them into a clean little cubicle separated on all sides by pale pink curtains, had told them upfront and bluntly that they had two choices. The first was to wait an hour or so for the shift change. The second was to be seen then and there by a doctor who was coming to the end of a fifteen-hour shift. After conferring with her grandpa via a second's long glance, she'd readily agreed to wait.
The bleeding had stopped on its own, the blood congealing in an ugly but efficient way and the pain had been reduced to an uncomfortably painful throbbing. The swelling was pretty bad but she'd known it was a given that she'd be getting stitches and she'd wanted someone who was well rested and ready to do it. The wait had been a little closer to two hours but the doctor had been brusque and efficient and there hadn't been even a small shadow under his eye.
The injury had been a bad one but the doctor had drawled that it hadn't been the worst dog bit he'd seen. He'd actually said it was a pretty easy fix, just five stitches on the fatty, fleshy area under her thumb and four above it. He'd told her the area beneath her thumb had a bit more padding for the dog to tear through and while it had made Elizabeth grimace, he'd assured her the injury could have been a lot worse.
"If the dog had really wanted to maul you, this'd be a different story. I'd say you're a lucky young girl. Not to encourage you to go around provoking dogs, that is, but all in all...yes, you're quite lucky..."
He had consulted with a nurse and a trainee about the injury, administered a local anesthetic and told her he'd come back to do the stitches when it had kicked in.
That had taken another hour.
Her hand had become a heavy, floating lump of nothing at the end of her arm.
She couldn't curl her fingers; she couldn't wriggle them.
She couldn't even rotate her wrist.
It had been the oddest, strangest feeling but she was thankful she hadn't been able to feel the pain anymore.
A nurse had washed the blood away fully, cleaning it out with saline solution in a very brisk way that he would never have been able to manage if she'd been without the numbing injection and when the doctor had come back to stitch her up, lunch had passed them by. Time hadn't really felt like it had been passing, for her at least, but it really had been. By the time the doctor had stitched her up, a different nurse had bandaged her up, another nurse had given her a tetanus shot, a pharmacist had given her pain medication, it had been almost five.
Grandpa had then spent a very long time arguing with a combative receptionist who seemed adamant that something was suspect with the insurance situation and that was when she found out-
-Elizabeth cleared her throat.
Why was she thinking about it?
Why was she torturing herself?
"Jam? Marmalade? I have a peach, pineapple and also a kiwi preserve. I got some good honey in my cupboard. I recommend the kiwi; it's tart but good. Pineapple's also a pleasant surprise"
She gave him a small smile and shook her head, "just plain is fine, thank you"
He nodded and slid her the toast.
She took a breath as she looked down at it.
For a second, tears threatened to prick at her eyes. She closed them briefly, recognizing the absurdity of her reaction.
It was just toast.
...but it felt like more.
Like it was an offering.
A branch.
She remembered when she had been frightened, scared and hurt after finding out what Dwayne was. She had been petrified after what Paul and David had done to her and Marko had been in the very same kitchen, trying to offer her comfort.
He'd made her toast.
He'd given it to her, sat opposite her and let her pour her heart out.
He'd listened to her, supported her.
Cared for her, loved her.
...and now her Grandpa was trying to do the same.
He was trying to dull the hurt he knew she was feeling and Elizabeth felt guilty because she knew that she was rejecting him.
She didn't want to, it was just that she was dealing with a different sort of hurt.
With Dwayne, Paul and David it had been fear.
Fear was the driving factor in her upset but now...now she was hurting.
Aching.
It was different.
If Marko had been there, she would have rejected him in the same way.
She just wanted some time to process it by herself.
"Guess I should give the Comic Shop a ring, huh?"
"Yeah" she agreed with a nod, nibbling at the toast, swallowing heavily.
She was glad he was back to her brother.
"Lizzie. I gotta ask...are you upset with him?"
There was a hesitant sort of lilt to his words.
"Yeah" she sniffed and shrugged, taken off guard by the direct question. She was expecting him to ask something else, "I mean..yeah but..it is what it is"
She was hurt that Sammy had called her an asshole and attacked her when she hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't cared to ask if she was OK, he hadn't mentioned it in the note he'd left for Grandpa and instead of waiting for the two of them to get home, he'd just hightailed it out to spend time with his stupid friends. He was rude and unkind and selfish and yes. She was angry with him though a part of her - a reasonable, logical voice whispering gently - knew her feelings were amplified because of what had happened at the hospital...but then she was reminded of the note and a flash of pain - this time rooted in insecurity - exploded again.
"I understand that you'd feel a bit more sensitive now, with everything that just-"
Yes, there it was.
Grandpa knew why she was feeling more stung than he thought she should be and he was going to try and talk to her about it.
"-no" she said, shaking her head, doubling down a little, "I felt like that since this morning"
That was true. His dog had attacked her for absolutely no reason and he'd gone off on her. Those were the facts. She had been upset with him then and she was still upset with him.
It was just stronger now.
She looked down at her toast again.
"Elizabeth, are you sure you don't want to talk about this?"
She shook her head. She'd really hoped he wouldn't try to push it.
She just wasn't ready.
"I'm fine. I promise. I...I'm just tired right now. I kind of...I just really don't want to talk about it. Maybe later but...not now"
"I understand" he replied quietly.
Her lip trembled for just a moment but she took a breath, pushing the toast away from her.
It wasn't sitting right in her stomach.
"Do you mind if I just head up?"
"Of course, not" he replied, softly.
"Thank you. And breakfast, you'll forgive me if I sleep in?"
"No question about it"
She nodded. She felt guilty for shutting him out but she didn't know what else to do, "thank you, Grandpa. I know today must have been boring for you-"
"-not even a little. I spent a day with my granddaughter. I was a happy man even if the circumstances weren't entirely great" he patted her shoulder softly as she made to move past him. He turned back towards the table and the note that Sammy had left, looking away from her, "you're my family, kiddo, and I love you with my whole heart. Always have done and I always will. Absolutely nothing has or ever will change about that, alright? You're my Granddaughter. My one and only Granddaughter. Nobody can change that or take that away"
She scrunched up her face as she fought back the tears but she knew it was a hopeless cause.
They were going to fall.
She tried to say something but she couldn't find her voice and so instead she retreated upstairs.
Sammy put the phone back in the cradle, smiling in relief. His grandfather had sounded chipper enough and he was getting a ride back home. The old man had offered him stew for dinner but he thought maybe, just maybe, he could push for a drive through. A burger sounded mighty good but not one of the boardwalk ones. He wanted a chain restaurant and some perfect golden arches came to mind. There was uniformity and quality control there. Plus, the fries were good and after the day he'd had, he thought he deserved some.
"Guys, my Grand-
- he stopped.
The Frog Brothers were staring intently at him and he blinked in confusion. They'd been kind of weird all day. He'd arrived and they'd been in the middle of ' a project' that they wouldn't expand upon and had been covered almost head to toe in sawdust and grime. They had been a little sweaty, too. Obviously they'd been doing some strenuous work and were clearly not in the mood for company but when he'd arrived with Nanook and a story to tell, they'd dropped everything and taken him in.
He guessed they were good friends in that way.
Still, seeing the way they were almost scowling at him now, he was reminded of their...eccentricities.
"What?"
"How did he know to call here?"
"...um...I gave him the number?"
"Why?" Edgar asked.
"We keep to ourselves. We're lone wolves, we don't want people knowing where we live or-"
"-guys, you work in a comic shop. On the boardwalk. You interact with strangers every day. They give you money in exchange for comics. Your address is public property. You encourage people to know where you live"
"Well, yeah but...the phone number..."
"...what's wrong with you? Your phone number is in the book. You're listed"
"We are?"
Sammy paused and looked at the two boys. They looked a little tired, a tiny big haggard with some dark circles under their eyes but honestly, they didn't seem any weirder than usual but it continued to be insane to him that they were responsible for a whole shop. Sure, he was a kid, too but these two barely seemed able to take care of themselves.
"How do you not know you're listed? You're a business, guys. The number's on your sign outside, too" he shook his head and closed the comic book he had been flicking through, blinking for a second as he studied them. Trying to lighten the mood he added, "unless you're closing up?"
"What?"
"Why would we close?"
Sammy shrugged for a second.
Well, that had gone down like a lead balloon.
"Just joking. You look tired and the shop's closed, I thought something was up" he grinned, "thought you were retiring"
"Haha" Edgar said dryly.
"It's our parent's shop. We can't close up, it's their choice"
"Besides, we're never retiring"
"Trust and justice, man. That never retires"
Sammy raised his fist, "right on"
Nanook whined a little and Alan wiped some sawdust from his jeans, "what time's he picking you up?"
"Soon"
"What about your bike?"
"S'OK. He's got a truck"
"So, what's your plan? What are you going to do about the dog?"
"Huh?"
He looked at Nanook. He was tired after the run down to the boardwalk but it was good to see him content and relaxing. He had his exercise for the day that was for sure. Edgar and Alan had given him some really good belly rubs, murmuring that he was a 'good boy' and a 'good dog'...which was true. Nanook was a good boy. It was nice to see his bud getting some positive affirmations.
"Your dog. What's your plan, man?" Edgar repeated.
"Plan?"
Edgar sighed, "your sister did something to him. We weren't there, you told us what happened and we're telling you as impartial voices: she must have baited him. There's no other explanation. You're not gonna let him go back there, are you?"
Sammy looked at Edgar, then back to Alan and Alan shrugged, "what if she does it again? What if Nanook really hurts her?"
Sammy frowned and touched Nanook's head softly.
It was good to have someone on his side. The Frog Brothers were something else but he had to admit, they were being great friends. They'd listened to him, they'd let him vent but more than that: they got it. They understood what he'd been saying. Back home, Grandpa had been all over Elizabeth and so had his mom. They'd fussed over her and not once had they come to check if Nanook was OK and they hadn't even asked Elizabeth what she'd done to provoke the dog. He understood that she'd had a little injury but to totally ignore the reasons behind it? It wasn't fair. He'd been thinking about it all day. Nanook was the softest, sweetest mutt to ever live. He didn't even try to eat spiders. Back home, the neighbor's cat had come into the garden and Nanook had whined and cried until he'd come out to shoo the smug cat away. That was Nanook's personality. He wasn't a fighter. He didn't bite or attack. He cuddled. And foraged for food in the kitchen but bite?
Never.
But, of course, in their worry of his stupid sister, nobody had thought to twig on the fact that it was so out of character for Nanook to do such a thing.
He didn't get why they were so blind.
The thing was, it was scary to him. Elizabeth had made that jibe about biting dogs but she was right. Dogs that bit people got put down, they got sent to live on farms. He would die if that happened to Nanook.
It just wasn't fair.
Elizabeth must have done something. Why else would Nanook have acted the way he had?
"Hey?"
Sammy looked up at Edgar.
He sighed and shook his head, taken from his thoughts, "well, what else is there? That's home. That's where we live...she just happens to be there, too"
"I dunno, man" Edgar said gravely, "but if she's there...what's to say it won't happen again?"
Sammy shifted.
That's what scared him.
One bite was an accident, two bites...that was straight into the hypothetical farm territory.
"He could stay with us?" Alan offered and Sammy paused.
They'd definitely been good to Nanook but he couldn't imagine leaving him there.
Nanook was his best friend.
He sighed, "maybe...I...would that be OK?"
"Definitely" Alan said.
"Totally" Edgar nodded.
Sammy pursed his lips, "...OK...OK...look, I'll take him home tonight and keep him close and then if anything looks like it's gonna happen, I'll bring him straight here"
The brothers nodded.
"Be careful, man" Alan said gravely, "I don't think you can trust her"
"She must have done something...if she didn't admit to it, maybe she'll do it again..."
Sammy sighed, "I know"
He shook his head and glanced at the clock.
His Grandpa would arrive soon enough and he had to think about how to approach it.
Did Elizabeth accidentally hurt Nanook? Was he protecting himself? Was that why she wouldn't own up?
He just didn't know but he hoped that everyone else would see some sense, too.
He was glad for his friends but he didn't want them to be his only allies.
And his sister?
He loved her but he was so angry with her.
If she would just admit to it, admit to whatever she'd one...
He nodded to himself.
He wasn't going to let her off.
Nanook was his best buddy and he was going to protect him.
"Uh, Ms. Emerson? I'm so sorry, I accepted the return in person. It didn't come from the drop-off box, I mean and I didn't check it properly and I know I should have but we were in a rush and the guy behind the guy was gettin' kind of snippy and I was kinda - I mean, I know it's pretty calm here but the guy was with his kids and he was tryin' to rent-well, OK, that's not important - what I mean, I was-I was stressed and getting overwhelmed a little so I accepted the return but I didn't check it and I'm so, so, so sorry but look...it's cracked. Real cracked. I didn't even know VHS tapes could crack like that and I'm so sorry do I gotta pay outta my wage or-"
"Stuart? Stop" Lucy smiled and took the broken tape from the flustered boy.
He was tall and lanky, definitely not a popular fellow in school and it seemed he was quick to worry but he was never late, he didn't do drugs, he didn't smoke and he didn't drink. The boy didn't take advantage of lulls in business, he didn't abuse his breaks. He was a good employee. He was also painfully dull. Maria had been a disappointment. Well, not a disappointment. Her reaction had been disappointing. She was a little too sharp and a little too smart for her own good and so she was no longer with them - or with it, at all - but Stuart was far too uninteresting to be recruited or be killed.
The poor insecure, simpering little boy had no idea how his boring, uninspired nature was his saving grace.
In school he likely envied the jocks, the sportsmen, the pretty cheerleaders, his charismatic, charming peers who graced the hallways. He probably watched them with a heavy heart and a pit in his stomach, perhaps a roaring flare of petulant jealous every now and then. He would hate himself, wish to be them...all the while unknowing, unaware that their charm, their magnetic personalities and dazzling smiles made for the most compelling of kills.
Max laughed softly to himself and shook his head.
The boy was staring at the broken tape in Lucy's hands and she looked up, shooting Max a look of bemused but sweet mirth.
Max shook his head again, shrugged his shoulders and glanced down at the papers he had been looking at.
Painfully dull, like Stuart but unfortunately, business often was.
"This won't come out of your wage, don't worry. These things happen" Lucy patted his shoulder and Max tried to be discreet in his observation, "why don't you go in the back and take five minutes, alright? Find a replacement to put out. That's why we have multiples!"
"Thank you Misses Emerson"
He sounded relieved, so relieved.
It was quite pathetic but he had no doubt Lucy found it endearing.
She truly was a wonderful woman.
"Ms. is just fine" she beamed and Max shuffled the papers, watching as Stuart gave a smile of relief and strode towards the store room.
"...sweet kid" Lucy said, placing the useless tape on the table beside him, "probably doesn't have it easy in school"
"Oh, definitely not" Max agreed.
"Still, he's a good employee"
Max smiled, unable to help himself.
He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to kiss her and hold her.
His Lucy.
So sweet.
So kind and caring...but also a wonderful business partner. She would never submit herself to something so unprofessional.
"He is. You made a very good choice in hiring him"
She smiled brightly at his praise and Max had to really fight the urge this time.
She truly was so perfect.
Seeing her reaction, the pleased, shy acknowledgement of her good work frustrated him. Lucy was a hard worker but an excellent one, too. Diligent but fair. Her ex-husband must have been a foul man to have crushed her spirit so much. She was always somewhat unsure of herself.
"Did you manage to get through to Maria?" Lucy asked, taking the receipts he had been looking over and beginning to organize them, "she didn't collect her last paycheck"
Max shook his head ruefully, "unfortunately not. It happens though. The young kids often leave their jobs on a whim. It's the peril of owning a business near the boardwalk"
Lucy nodded and sighed, "that's a shame. I liked her"
"Indeed"
Maria would have been a nice addition but he supposed in the long run it really was for the best.
Lucy's children may not want another sibling so soon.
It would have made a new, challenging adjustment become an even bigger one.
Lucy glanced towards the cashier's desk, checking to see everything was running smoothly and Max smiled.
"Technically, you should be on break"
"Ah" she laughed and stacked the neat receipts in front of her, taking the second pile he'd just finished with.
"People will think I'm a slave driver"
Lucy smiled, "or that I just enjoy my job. Though Maria twigged pretty fast that we were dating"
"Even worse!" Max laughed, "a boyfriend who makes his dear, sweet love toil away"
Lucy looked up at him with a soft, genuine smile and he squeezed her hand, "I do love you...and I do want you to take your break. Really, you work too hard"
"It doesn't feel like work when I'm with you" she assured him, her gingers dancing over his, the receipts momentarily forgotten, "besides, if I take a break..."
Max nodded, "you'll think about Elizabeth?"
"Yes"
He nodded again.
Elizabeth, Elizabeth...naughty little Elizabeth.
Lucy had come to work so upset and flustered, so stressed. Of course, she hadn't shown it. Professional and on the ball as ever but he knew. He could tell something was wrong. He didn't even need the smell of blood and coffee perfuming the sleeve of Lucy's cardigan - she'd cleaned it, of course, but some scents linger - to tell she was upset. He just knew. She was his love, after all. The shop had been pleasantly busy as it often was but he had convinced her to take dinner with him, though she had insisted on it being a short one. She had to set an example for the staff but during that short and sweet meal, everything had come out.
Elizabeth's injury, the coffee and blood decorating the upstairs landing.
The angry brother, the harsh words.
The guilt she felt at not being the one to go to the hospital.
The concern for her son and worry for her daughter.
Curiosity about the dog. Mild fear he would bite again.
Despair at the petty, cruel action of the man she had once married and fear her daughter would come to find out about it.
It had taken him some time to assuage her fears, to calm her down.
He'd soothed her but it hadn't been without effort.
Still, he had some questions of his own...the most pressing being: what had Elizabeth been doing to instill such a violent reaction from such a sweet dog?
What scent had been covering her?
Naughty Elizabeth indeed.
He was a welcome, invited guest and Nanook had been as accommodating as he could dream...so who did Elizabeth smell of? And what had she been doing for the scent to be so strong it warranted an attack?
Curious.
"Um, Misses-Ms. Emerson?"
Lucy gently took her hand back from his, ever the professional, and smiled at the boy.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry but I can't find the VHS..."
"Where did you look?"
"Um. In the back?"
"Did you check the 'E' aisle?"
"Yes"
"Alright, here, let me help you. Sometimes things get put back in the wrong place, this could be under 'T' or even under the director's name-"
"-which would be S?"
Lucy laughed and nodded, "exactly"
She shot another smile at Max and he gave her one in return, raising his eyebrows in the same bemused look she'd shot him earlier.
She smothered her laugh and escorted the clueless boy towards the stockroom once more.
Max neatened the receipts Lucy had been working on and gave one last glance down at the numbers on his papers.
Everything seemed to add up quite nicely.
He liked it when that happened.
He liked it when everything came together.
It was a shame Elizabeth was being such a naughty little girl.
She certainly needed a strong father figure to guide her and his Lucy?
Well, she needed him more than ever and he needed her.
He coughed and smiled as he shuffled the papers into one pile, ready to store.
Perhaps it was time.
Perhaps it was time to secure his family.
A/N: thank you for the sweet reviews. I have this completely mapped out and there's actually an end in sight now! It's coming and it's going to be quite epic. The reviews really do motivate me. I get so many hits on this story but reviews are quite rare and they make my day when I get them, so thank you!