Alliance of Shadows, Book 5: LEIF

Lost Child

"Papa, can you help me with my homework?" Conner asked as he stomped his way into the dining room where I was sitting. His face was set in a scowl as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

Glancing over at my now eight-year-old son, I took note of the fact that his clothes were a little dirtier than usual. He was also sporting a bruise on his left cheek.

"Conner, what ‘ave I told you about fightin’?" I said, grading another essay as I side-eyed him.

"Sam started it," he complained. "He knew my apple and granola bar were for my sugars after school, but he tried to eat it anyway. Wynter helped make him stop, though."

It’d been four years since we adopted them. Last year, we had to rush Conner to Alliance Hospital after he passed out in class. Dre and I had been terrified of losing him, only to find out that he was Type 2 diabetic.

Now, we took all the necessary precautions with him—meals timed just right, emergency supplies packed in both of our vehicles, and his teacher trained on what to do if he showed signs of a crash.

Heather ran in and dashed upstairs like a whirlwind. When she came back down, my now ten-year-old daughter grinned at me.

"Papa, I'll be back for supper."

"Homework?" I called out as she shoved her sneakers on and yanked the laces tight.

"Done," she called over her shoulder. "I'm going to study with Miss Flora, okay?"

Smiling, I nodded. "Alright, Princess. Stay safe."

"I will! I love you, Papa!" she shouted as the door banged open and shut behind her before I could even respond.

Conner looked over at me with a blank look. "What lesson is she in a hurry for?"

"Etiquette," I told him. "Uncle Kaden, your Dad, and I had them, too."

He tilted his head to the side and clicked his tongue. "What's etiquette, Papa?"

Hmm. How do I explain this one? I wasn’t expecting to have a talk like this with him at only eight, but still. Well, hey—at least he didn’t ask where babies come from. That was something I would have an issue answering.

Dreson was working late at City Hall again tonight, leaving me to care for the kids.

"It’s a code o’ conduct or behaviour that’s accepted by society," I said as I graded another assignment. "Ye’ll be startin’ them when you turn ten, jus’ like your sister."

Setting my work to the side, I explained further. "Keepin’ your elbows off th’ table while eatin’, sayin’ please, thank you, and excuse me—those are good behaviours. Stuff that’s socially acceptable across the board."

He looked at me, chewing his lip as he pulled his math book out of his bag. "Oh, okay. Papa, I can't figure out my multiplication homework. Can you help me?"

"Yes, of course," I replied.

"We're doing the three-digit ones now, but I don't understand how I got the answer wrong. I mean, did I write it down the wrong way?" He pointed to the question and sighed dramatically.

Smirking, I scooted closer and started writing on the paper. "Let's look at the numbers a different way, Con. Now, I'm going t’ show you how t’ break them up and put ‘em back together, okay?"

Grabbing another sheet of paper for him to work it out on, I asked him to tell me what each number multiplied by eight was and told him to write it down.

"Well, if I'm starting from the back, eight times four is thirty-two, eight times three is twenty-four, and eight times two is sixteen," he replied as he wrote the numbers down.

"Hmm, and did you remember to carry, subtract, or add where you needed to?" I said as I pointed out the pattern to him.

Scowling, he tried the equation again. "So, if I carry the three... oops. I know what I did wrong now. I forgot to add the numbers I carried. Thanks, Papa!"

"Anytime," I smiled.

Getting up, I made my way to the kitchen where the lasagna was cooking. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, warm and comforting. Following me, Conner pulled out a stool and watched as I checked the food.

I could tell by how he was fidgeting that something was on his mind. Putting the knife on the counter, I turned and said, "Alright, what's wrong?"

"I look like him, don't I?"

His voice was filled with anguish, barely above a whisper. Pulling him into my arms, I soothingly rubbed his back. I didn’t need to ask about whom he was talking.

I knew.

"Conner, we talked about this, yeah? You may share some o’ his features, but you are nothing like Seamus. Not by a long shot," I murmured.

He sobbed, "But what if I am?"

"Conner, sweetie, would you betray your friends if they asked you to keep a secret?" I asked.

Nervous, he nibbled his lower lip. "No, ‘cause you and Dad taught me better than that. I don't want to hurt my friends and make them mad ‘cause then they wouldn't be my friends anymore."

"That's right, and good friends are hard t’ find, so you need t’ keep them close." I gently pushed the hair back from his face and wiped the few tears that had fallen.

"Some of the kids are talking about how you and Dad are weird ‘cause you're both boys," he confided. His shoulders sagged like saying it out loud took the weight off.

I shook my head. "Conner, does it bother you that we're together th’ way your mother and father were when they were alive?"

"No, but the way they talk about it makes it feel like it's wrong or something, and I don't know how to react. The other kids at school poke fun at me ‘cause we don't have a mom, though."

Damn it, I thought.

"There's always something, isn't there?" I turned my head to see Rowan standing in the doorway.

"Grandpa!" Conner's blue-green eyes lit up.

He was dressed in his official uniform, so I knew this was not a social visit. Sighing, I sat down and waited for him to speak.

"Hey, little man, how's school?" Rowan asked as he lifted Conner into his arms.

"Other than getting picked on, it's good," Conner replied. "I usually just hang out with the Howlers, though."

Smiling warmly, Rowan kissed his cheek and told him to go finish his homework. As soon as the door swung shut, he turned to me.

"Leif, is everything okay with you and Dreson?"

"As far as I know," I said as I took the finished lasagna out of the oven, the smell of melted cheese and roasted herbs washing over me. "I mean, I've been pretty busy with teaching and keepin’ up with the kids' schedules, and he's been blocked with the election goin’ on. Why d’ ye ask?"

Nodding, he sat down and dropped his head to his arm. "I'm exhausted just hearing all that. How the heck do you do it?"

"I leaned back in my chair and looked him over. "Conner, go on an’ finish your homework. Da, what's going on? There's something on your mind, I can tell."

He smiled sadly and pulled an envelope out of his pocket, sliding a picture free. "The maid that worked with McDillard finally came forward. She’s admitted to… participating, resulting in a child."

The room started spinning. My life suddenly felt like it was spiraling out of control.

"This can't be," I whispered. "If that's true, then th’ babe’d be seventeen or eighteen this year."

Watching as he nodded, I suddenly lost my appetite.

"About Dre," he started.

The kitchen door opened, and my husband walked in with storm clouds in his eyes. He came over and hugged me, asking if I was okay before turning a glare in his father's direction. "She's here."

She?

Did I have a daughter?

"How sure are we that she or he is mine, Rowan?" I asked softly.

"A DNA test would provide all the proof we need, Leif," Dreson said with conviction. "Besides, you warned me from the start that there was a possibility."

Turning his eyes to Dreson, Rowan blinked. "You knew there was a chance he could have a child?"

"And I married him anyway, Dad. He was honest about it, so it doesn’t matter to me. Leif’s been through a lot already. We’ve been officially together for ten—almost eleven—years and married for four. We have to take into account that he was drugged into submission for most of the abuse, too." Dre snapped.

A sharp gasp echoed behind us.

Looking over at the doorway, I was shocked to see the girl who'd taken part in my hell. She was older, tired looking, but there was a glint in her grey eyes that said there was some other reason for her visit. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but I felt nothing for her.

"Mother, is it true?" A young girl glared darkly at the grey-eyed woman, a spark of energy swirling around her. My eyes snapped to her, and I felt the color drain from my face. The sharp cut of her jaw, the ink-black curls around her face, bouncing with each movement from her crown to her mid-back. Those green eyes, shimmering with tears that threatened to spill over.

All of it was so painfully familiar.

"Dre, honey, I don't need a DNA test," I whispered.

It would be useless, considering the fact that she looked like a female version of me. Taking my hand, he murmured that he wanted one anyway. Just to be absolutely sure.

"Mother, answer me. Is it true that ‘e was drugged?" the girl asked again.

Sobbing, the woman raised her eyes to me. "Yes, Kenna."

"How could you!?" the girl cried out angrily.