THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

Twelve years ago; someplace at Mexico.

“Look at me, Uncle Tyler,” A little girl called proudly, waving from the top of the high wooden tower she had just climbed.

“You’re crazy, John.” An older man said and shook his head, shading his eyes against the sun as he stared up at the replica of the high platform used for training Navy SEALS recruits.

“Lucille could break her neck if she fell.” He glanced away toward the fragile woman lying on the chaise lounge, cuddling her newborn son.

“What about it, Maryanne? Lucille isn’t even five yet, and John has her training for Special Forces,” He said.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

Maryanne smiled absently and looked up at her husband as if asking his opinion.

“Lucille’s great,” John said immediately, reaching to capture his wife’s hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

“She loves this stuff. She was doing it practically before she could walk.”

Tyler waved to the tiny girl calling to him.

“I don’t know, John. Maybe Luke is right. She’s so small. She takes after Maryanne in looks and build, except for her hair though.” He grinned.

“But off course, we were lucky in that department. The rest of her is all you. She’s a daredevil, a little fighter, just like her daddy.” He stated.

“I’m not so certain that’s a good thing,” Luke said, frowning. He couldn’t take his eyes off the child. His heart was in his throat. His own little girl was seven years old, and he would never allow her near the tower his compatriots, John and Tyler, had constructed in John’s backyard.

“You know, John, it’s possible to force a child to grow up too fast. Lucille is still a baby.” He mentioned.

John laughed.

“That ‘baby’ can cook breakfast for her mother and serve it to her in bed and change diapers for the little one. She’s been reading since she was three. I mean, really reading. She loves physical challenges. There’s not much on the training course she can’t do. I’ve been teaching her martial arts, and Tyler has been working on survival training with her. She loves it.” He said.

Luke scowled.

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging John, Tyler. He never listens to anyone but you. That child adores both of you, and neither of you has any sense where she’s concerned. I hope to hell you don’t have her swimming in the ocean.”

“Maybe Luke’s right, John.” Tyler sounded a bit worried.

“Lucille’s a little trouper with the heart of a lion, but maybe we push her too much. And I had no idea you were allowing her to cook for Maryanne. That could be dangerous.”

“Someone has to do it.” John shrugged his wide shoulders. “Lucille knows what she’s doing. When I’m not home, she knows very well she’s responsible for Maryanne’s care. And now we have little Jr. And just for your information, Lucille is a good swimmer already.”

“Are you listening to yourself, John?” Luke demanded.

“Lucille is a child, a five-year-old – a baby . Maryanne! For God’s sake, you’re her mother.”

But Maryanne said nothing.

As usual, neither parent responded to anything they didn’t want to hear. John treated Mayann like a porcelain doll. Neither paid much attention to their daughter, except on special occasions.

Exasperated, Luke appealed to John’s best friend.

“Tyler, tell them.”

Tyler nodded slowly in agreement.

“You shouldn’t put so much pressure on her, John. Lucille is an exceptional child, but she’s still a child.”

His eyes were on the small girl waving and smiling. Without another word he got up and began striding toward the tower where the little girl was calling to him persistently.

***

Ten years ago:

The screams coming from Maryanne’s room were horrible to hear. She was inconsolable. Bernice, Luke’s wife, had called the doctor to administer tranquilizers.

Lucille put her hands over her ears to try to muffle the terrible sounds of grief. Jr. had been crying for some time in his room, and it was obvious her mother was not going to go to her son.

Lucille wiped at the steady stream of tears falling from her own eyes, lifted her chin, and went across the hall to her brother’s room.

“Don’t cry, Mattie,” she crooned softly, lovingly. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’m here now. Mommy is very upset about Daddy, but we can get through this if we stick together. You and me. We’ll get Mommy through it, too.”

Uncle Tyler had come to their house with two other officers an hour ago, and had informed Maryanne that her husband would never be coming home again. Something had gone terribly wrong while they had stopped at the bar to drink. He had been hit by stray bullets.

Maryanne had not stopped screaming ever since.

**

8 years ago:

“How is she today, honey?” Tyler asked softly, stooping to kiss Lucille on the cheek. He laid a bouquet of flowers down on the table and turned his attention to the little girl he had loved since the day she was born.

“She isn’t having a very good day,” Lucille admitted reluctantly. She always told “Uncle Tyler” the truth about her mother, but no one else, not even “Uncle Luke.”

“I think she took too many of those pills again. She won’t get out of bed, and when I try to tell her things about Mathew, she just stares at me. He’s finally stopped needing diapers, and I’m so proud of him, but she won’t say anything at all to him. If she does pick him up, she squeezes him so hard, he cries.”

“I have something to ask you, Lucille,” Uncle Tyler said.

“It’s important you tell me the truth. Your mom is sick most of the time, and you have to take care of Mathew, manage the house, and go to school. I was thinking maybe I should move in and help out a little.”

Lucille’s eyes lit up.

“Move in with us? How?” She asked.

“I could marry your mother and be your father. Not like John, of course, but as your stepfather. I think it would help your mother, and I’d sure like to be here for you and little Mathew. But only if you want me, honey. Otherwise, I won’t even talk to Maryanne about it.”