The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan (16 page)

“I know,” she said, giving Peter Vance a surprisingly calm once over. “He came from the bear.”

Kirk’s mouth fell open, as he glanced toward Peter, terrified of what the little girl might say next. She’d seen him. Jesus Christ, this little girl had seen him shift; she knew what he was.

Kirk held his breath, waiting for what was to come next.

“What’s that? You saw a bear out there, did ya? Sounds like a lot of excitement for one night.”

Rory just stared at Kirk, wordless.

“Well, Mr. Fenn here is a firefighter with Blackrock’s volunteer department, and he’s offered to take you home with him while your mother is being taken care of.”

Rory glanced toward the door. “Is she going to be ok?”

Kirk heard Peter swallow and took up the helm of the conversation. “She’s fighting really hard, sweetheart. The doctors are going to take care of her the best they can.”

“She might die?”

It was Kirk’s turn to swallow.

“Sweetheart, don’t talk like that,” Peter said.

Rory frowned. “It’s ok to talk like that. Momma told me – bad things happen sometimes.”

Kirk and Peter both stared at the little girl. Rory simply rubbed her eyes again, wiping away tears, but she was fixing her jaw, as though determined to show a brave face.

“Do you have a bed at your house?” She asked finally, pushing her legs off the edge of the couch.

“I do. I have bunk beds I built myself. With a slide to come down from the top if you want to.”

Rory smiled for the first time since he’d met her, and though it wasn’t a smile of true joy, it was enough to hint at the beauty of the real deal. His heart ached.

“Can we go, now?” She asked, standing up beside the couch and holding her hand out to him to take it. Kirk froze a moment. This little girl had seen him shift, seen what he became when he ventured into the woods at night, unleashing a creature that many great men feared. Yet this little girl stood before him, holding her hand out to him in wait, expectant of a warm bed.

He met her gaze, letting her green eyes burn into his a moment. Then, Kirk stood from his chair, fighting a lump that was growing in his throat, and shaking Peter’s hand, led Rory Little down the hospital corridor.

CHAPTER THREE

Joe was enraged.

Her body ached, immobile around her as she fought to pinpoint the source of the pain. It was somewhere, and it was everywhere. Her side hurt, her legs hurt, her collar hurt, and somewhere in the midst of all this hurt, there was an ache in her chest like nothing she’d ever experienced.

Yet it wasn’t the pain that was summoning up Joe’s fury, it was the incessant blipping sound of some contraption nearby, pulling her from sleep. She tried to swallow, finding the action almost impossible, as though something blocked her muscles from doing their work. She tried again, still unable to swallow. She tried to cough, dislodge this strange thing that seemed to have taken up residence in her throat. Coughing was nearly excruciating.

Joe opened her eyes to the dark room and forced her hand up to her face. There was a tube poking out of her nose. She tapped it with her clumsy hand and felt the thing move in her throat.

Rage. She pulled at it, feeling the sting of tape tearing across her face, coupled by the sickening sensation of something moving in her throat, the way spaghetti does when you only swallow the end of it. She hacked, pulling faster. Jesus, how long was this fucking thing?

“Theresa? Theresa, honey. Don’t do that. No, honey!”

The tube was out, spraying spit and something else into her nose as it came free. Joe hacked and gasped, swatting the nurse’s touch away.

“I need water. I need a drink of water.”

The nurse pressed a hand on Joe’s shoulder as she tried to hoist herself up. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know why her body ached and even screamed when she tried to shift toward the edge of the bed.

“Don’t move, Theresa. I need you to stay still. Larry!”

A figure appeared at Joe’s other arm, taking her by the shoulder and elbow and pushing her back into the bed. She fought to stay upright, but the muscles tensing in her abdomen sent searing pain across her side. She screamed, dropping into the bed to still the agony.

“Honey, if you won’t lay still, I’m going to have to restrain you. Alright?”

Joe turned to the nurse, glaring at her. “I can’t stay here! I need to go! Where’s Rory?”

“She’s in protective custody. She’s completely safe. I’m sure she’ll be very excited to hear you’ve -”

Protective custody. Rory wasn’t with her. Rory was with strangers. People who didn’t know what was out there, people who wouldn’t know to protect her. Joe’s face contorted in fury and grief. She had to get to her daughter. She had to keep her safe

Joe swatted the nurse’s hand away and reached for an IV needle taped to her inner arm, ripping it from her skin as blood appeared. Hands appeared at all sides, pinning her to the bed as straps were fastened around her wrists. She screamed at the figures as the fluorescent lights came on overhead.

“She’s waking up? Oh, Jesus. Theresa, dear. You’re not healed enough to be moving about like that. Sedate her.”

The man in the white lab coat spoke softly to the nurse, and she responded instantly, producing a syringe of something. Joe screamed in protest, but it did no good. They weren’t listening! Why weren’t they listening? Rory…

Her mind grew swimmy and warm, leaving her to slump back onto the bed as her eyes begged to close.

“I can’t stay here,” were the last words she could force from her lips.

CHAPTER FOUR

“You’ve had enough! Besides, if I give you another two, then I’ll only have five, and I need at least six for my own breakfast.”

Rory glared at him over her half-eaten pancakes, appalled by his senseless act of selfishness. He’d grown accustomed to this glare – the feigned, scandalized look she gave when she didn’t get her way. It was ten-year-old Rory’s favorite joke, and it was one of the most endearing things he’d ever encountered.

“I’m a growing woman. I need more food than you!”

“I’m six and a half feet tall. You’re, what? Two feet tall? I could eat you for breakfast, and still need another four pancakes to keep myself alive for the day.”

Rory gave an offended gasp. “I say good day to you, sir!”

And with that, she turned her back to him, only turning to fork another bite of pancake every few seconds. Kirk lifted the last pancake to be sure it was done. Then Kirk flipped the pancake up, turning the spatula toward the kitchen table, and with a flick of the wrist, tossed the pancake across the table to her plate.

It landed perfectly at the plate’s center. They both went slack jawed a moment before demanding high fives of each other in awe of his slick moves.

“That was awesome!” Rory cried.

“I know! I totally meant to hit you in the face with it, but that was way better,” Kirk said.

Rory rolled her eyes at him.

He shut off the stove and set his plate down on the table across from her just as the house phone rang over the kitchen counter.

“Hey, did you pack your school bag?”

Rory nodded, her mouth full of far too large a bite of buttermilk and chocolate chip pancake.

Kirk hopped up to take the call, pointing at Rory.

“Don’t choke, meatball. Hello?”

“Hello. Is Kirk Fenn available?”

Rory began to sing to herself at the table, forcing Kirk to bring the old spiral corded phone around the corner into the living room to hear.

“Yes, this is Kirk Fenn. To whom am I speaking?”

“Hey, Mr. Fenn. I’m sorry to call so early. This is Amanda Ross. I’m Peter Vance’s assistant?”

Kirk’s heart shot into his throat. “Hey there, Amanda. How can I help you?” He’d had Rory for long enough to fall in love with the child. He wasn’t ready to see her leave.

Amanda slowed her speech, betraying her caution as she rustled papers around to find her information. “We’ve been informed by the hospital that Mrs. Little has woken up.”

Kirk slumped against the wall. He was overwhelmed with relief to hear Rory’s mother was awake. Still, he felt that familiar pain. He’d experienced this moment before, having to return children to their parents after fostering them in his home for anywhere from a couple days to a few months. Mrs. Little’s coma left Rory in his care for nearly two months now. He squeezed the phone and closed his eyes.

“Theresa is? Really?”

“Josephine. Not Theresa,” Rory muttered to herself from the kitchen.

Kirk leaned into the phone, trying to quiet his voice. “Is she awake enough to have visitors?”

“She is, yes. If it would be possible for you to bring her down to Bangor, that would be spectacular.”

Kirk turned into the kitchen, watching Rory pack her papers and folders into her Captain America backpack. He imagined the relief and the joy the little one would feel at hearing her mother was awake – at hearing her mother was going to be ok.

Then he imagined the way it would feel to hug this little girl goodbye. His chest tightened.

“We’ll head out, momentarily. Thank you for the call, Amanda.”

Kirk stood there a moment, waiting to get his wits about him.

“Mr. Fenn? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“When you arrive at the hospital, Mr. Vance has some things he’d like to speak to you about. Can you give us a call back when you arrive at the hospital?”

“I’ll do that -”

“We’re gonna be late,” Rory said, appearing at his elbow. Kirk jumped at her appearance. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. You just startled me.”

Kirk said a quick goodbye on the phone and returned the receiver to the kitchen. He turned back to Rory, and took in the splash of freckles across her cheeks with new eyes. “Hey, I’ve got some good news for you.”

“You want me to what?”

Kirk stared at Peter Vance and the well-meaning Dr. Krivna, his eyes wide.

“I understand if you’re not comfortable, but we thought to ask, nonetheless. We know you take children in from time to time.”

“Yeah, children. Not grown women.”

Kirk glanced down the hallway at Theresa Little’s open hospital door. Rory was perched on the edge of the bed, her body slung across her mother in a full body hug. She’d been lying like that for twenty minutes now.

“I wouldn’t make such a suggestion if the circumstances weren’t exceptional,” Peter said. “She will be well enough to send home this week, but only with supervision. They’ve no family, no car. There’s nowhere for them to go, at this point. Given her state, she can’t go home alone for at least another two or three weeks – maybe even a month.”

“So you want me to babysit this woman?”

The doctor and Peter both shook their heads.

“No, no. She just needs to have someone close by for the next two weeks or so. Make sure she isn’t overexerting herself.”

Kirk took a deep breath. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”

He felt torn. On the one hand, he was a Fenn, and Fenn’s didn’t invite random strangers over for a slumber parties, for very good reason. They had secrets that weren’t meant to be shared. Yet, on the other hand, he imagined the joy on Rory’s face when she learned her mother would be there every morning to see her to school.

The doctor seemed to sense his wavering. He pressed on. “Look, I’ll level with you, Mr. Fenn. This woman is one of the most difficult patients we’ve ever had. She tries to leave her bed every time she is conscious, verbally accosting our staff and threatening us.”

“Wow, you sure know how to sell a guy.”

“You care about the girl, no?”

Kirk stopped. He nodded.

“Well, I can tell you right now, that girl’s mother is afraid of something. We have reason to believe she is running from something. Her ID says Theresa Little, but she doesn’t answer to it. They have nowhere to go. By month’s end, when she can be discharged safely without supervision, that woman and her daughter will be homeless. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought there was any other option. She will fight, and potentially harm herself to get to her daughter. This will kill many birds with one stone.”

Dr. Krivna’s Hindi accent made arguing with him almost impossible, as the lilt of his voice was too endearing. Kirk mulled over one detail – she doesn’t answer to her name. He remembered Rory’s comment earlier that morning, but didn’t say anything.

Kirk ran his hand over his face. He’d already made his decision. “You actually think this lady will go home with a complete stranger?”

Dr. Krivna and Peter smiled, and a nurse at the station behind them made a tiny celebratory gesture. Apparently, Dr. Krivna wasn’t the only one who wanted Theresa Little out of the hospital.

“She will if it means being with the girl.”

Kirk relented, and the doctor shook his hand, heartily, before turning for Theresa’s room.