The Lover's Children

Chapter 124 – Autumn’s Fury – Part 16

MICHAEL

Mitch smiles brightly. “James showed me how to draw in perspective…” James’ head pops up. He and

Richard wander in, inspecting her work. “… It means I can draw, not just the outline sketches, but an

impression of the finished room. I can fix what's in my head onto the paper.”

James contemplates a sketch, nodding, lips curving. “You’re a fine artist, Mitch. It’s good that you’re

getting the benefit of your talents and skills.”

She smiles absently, then frowns, seeming properly to register me for the first time, “Is there something

I can do for you, Michael?”

“Actually, no. It's Larry I came looking for.”

Klempner tilts up the brim of his hat on a finger, squinting upward. “Oh?”

“You feeling up to some physical work? What with the plaster-cast off at last. I could use an extra pair

of hands today. Or to be precise, Kirstie and Ryan could.”

He stretches and yawns, then rolling his shoulders, stands. “Absolutely. In fact, I’d welcome the chance

for some exercise. What are we doing?” He scans Mitch’s sketches, sniffs and turns back to me.

“Setting up a marquee for the housewarming party next week. It doesn’t have to be all day if you’re not

up to it. If it gets too much you can stop. But any help would be useful.”

“Stop fussing. I’m fine now… Housewarming? That old mill of theirs? I thought they were turning it into

a restaurant?”

“That was their initial thoughts. But since they’ll be living there and they'd like a home to call their own,

they've zeroed in on Events: weddings, parties. That kind of thing. Hire the place out for the weekends

for as much as they can get. Then it's theirs the rest of the time.”

Mitch pipes up from her sketching. “And someone else gets ninety per cent of the work with the

catering and the cleaning.” She pauses, her eyes flicking to mine… “Ah… And if they want the catering

provided…” Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

I grin. “That's where we come in. Sally’s more than happy to take on some outsourced work. And it

means Kirsty and Ryan don’t have to pump money into full-blown catering facilities. Or at least, not

yet.”

Mitch grins. “Everyone wins.”

I click my tongue. “As in all the best business deals.”

Beth wanders across. “Mind if I join you?”

“What? Raising marquees?”

“No. Kirstie’s designing catalogues and leaflets for the events. I said I’d help.”

I tug at an ear. “It’s not going to be a good place for a toddler today. Too many people milling around

and who-knows-what working equipment on the site.”

“Mitch and Charlotte are looking after Adam.” Beth dimples. “You can imagine how Charlotte reacted

when I suggested she helped with designing brochures for wedding dresses.”

I huff a laugh. “I can imagine. Fine. Jump in.” I pat my thigh. “Scruffy. You coming?” My ragtag terrier

bounces around, yapping excitedly.

“Mind if Bear joins us?” asks Klempner.

“So long as he doesn't mind riding on the back with Scruffy. He won't fit in the van with three of us.”

“Not a problem.” Klempner snaps his fingers, and Bear, ears pricking, moves into heel behind him.

He pauses briefly by Vicky in her bouncer, gurgling a conversation with a knitted pink teddy bear.

Extending a finger toward her, “See you later,” he murmurs. Forgetting Teddy, she grips the finger,

smiling and babbling baby-speak at him. Bear snuffles at the tiny girl, then follows Klempner out.

“Time we were moving too,” says Richard. “James?”

As we head for the parking lot, Richard throws a glance over his shoulder, then mutters to Klempner,

“You might compliment her, you know.”

Klempner throws him a blank look. “Sorry? What are we talking about?”

“Mitch. She’s a skilled artist, doing fine work, but you barely so much as acknowledge it.”

Klempner still looks clueless. “What for?” He sounds waspish. “She knows what she’s producing is

good. She doesn't need me to prop up her ego.” He pauses, then moderates his tone. “But thank you,

James, for taking the trouble to teach her the technique.”

“My pleasure, but it was no effort at all. I guided her through the basics and she took to it like a duck to

water.” He pauses, then, “I suspect if you checked Mitch’s browsing history, you'd find she's been

getting lessons elsewhere too.”

“Why d'you say that?”

“I didn't teach her how to nail perspective on an irregular shape like those arches using a constructed

geometric figure. But the way she just skipped through it just then, she's been getting practice. Don't

underestimate your wife. She's far from stupid.”

“Have I ever even hinted I consider Mitch unintelligent?”

“No, but when I first partnered with Charlotte, I made the mistake of judging her simply as a beautiful

woman I'd fallen for.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“My point is that events taught me the error of my ways. Charlotte is intelligent, brave and has the

courage of her convictions. And she is her mother’s daughter. We should never judge any of the

Kimberleys simply as beautiful women. They are so much more than that.”

*****

HARKNESS

From my sheep shelter, I see it all. The car pulls out of the front gate, heading down the mountain.

Quickly I drop my binoculars, before the angle of the sun can betray me.

Two of the men gone…

A few minutes later, a pick-up truck follows. Spinning the focussing wheel, I zoom in on the cab

window.

And that’s the two blond bastards gone too…

No kids…

Shame one of the women was with them...

Still, on the plus side, the two mutts were in the back.

And that leaves me the other two women.

If I can’t have Lily…

Play time.

*****

CHARLOTTE

Mom calls up the stairs. “You want to take a break, Jenny? I’m doing coffee and cake.”

From my rocking chair in the nursery, I call back. “On my way.”

Setting my book down, I lift Cara, then Adam, out of the playpen. “Come on. Let’s go see Granny

downstairs. She’s making us all something nice to eat.” Cara beams “Ya! Ya! Ya!” Adam gurgles

agreement.

Taking Adam by one hand, Cara by the other, I lead them down the stairs. Cara protests, tugging her

hand from mine. “Big girl!” Gripping each bannister in turn, she makes her way down, step by step. I

match her, one step at a time. Adam placidly accompanies me, doing it my way.

I thought Mom was in the kitchen, but instead, she’s there, in the hallway, standing frozen, staring

toward the back end of the hall.

Her mouth is open. Her breathing is shallow and sharp, her face pallid.

“Mom, you okay there?”

She whips a look up at me, eyes savage. “Jenny! Stay there. And the children.”

Faltering, I take Cara’s hand again. She squeals, trying to pull free, but I hold tight. “Mom? What’s

wrong?”

Then, two steps lower, and I see…

It’s Him…

Harkness.

He’s got Vicky. My little sister whimpers as he grips her, his hand wrapped around her tiny wrists,

dangling her by the arms over the hard tile floor. In the other hand, he has a knife, the tip tangling into

Vicky’s hair.

“Well, hello there…” He grins manically. “I was wondering when you lovely ladies would drop by…” He

lifts Vicky higher. “Hey, what a pretty kid. Dead cute, isn't she. All that ginger hair.” He widens eyes,

flashing the whites at me… “She's gonna grow up looking just like her Mom.” He looks completely

unhinged.

His head cocks and the grin morphs to a snarl… “Isn’t she…” He bounces her a couple of times,

roughly, then makes as if to slip… “Whoops! Nearly dropped her.” Vicky’s whimpers grow to tears.

He looks terrible…

Hair matted and filthy. Cheeks sunken. Eyes red. And the stink reaches me halfway up the stairs.

But he’s the one with the knife and Vicky.

He’s still talking, and the grin is back. “Of course, to grow up like Mom, she has to grow up at all…

Doesn't she?”

The blade-edge glints as he tucks her under one arm. “Such a little girl. They’re so vulnerable, aren’t

they? Babies. Anything could happen to her between now and then.

My stomach knots, chilling. I hang on to Adam and Cara. “Don’t hurt her. Please don’t…”

He jerks his chin at me. “Shut the fuck up. You, down here where I can see you. Those kids too.”

The chill turns to heat, flushing my cheeks. “Do you have any idea what a dangerous game you’re

playing?” I hiss. “When my father finds out you…”

“Your father…” He leans forward, face twisting… “… isn’t here!”

He yells the final word, but then his voice turns calm, almost chatty. “I know who he is. I’ve been

watching you all for weeks. And today. None of them are here. It’s just us.”

He straightens up and his smirk returns. “Speaking of which, you…” He jabs the knife toward Mom…

“Empty your pockets. The phone. I saw you using it. I know it's on you…” Then to me… “You too.”

“My phone’s upstairs.”

“So what’s that in your back pocket? Don’t fuckin’ lie to me…” As I hesitate, he sets the knife against

Vicky’s throat. “Unless you want the fun to start quickly. I don’t need the kids. I’m happy to start with

them. I’ll enjoy it, but the kid won’t. And it’s very useful that you’ve got two to spare with you there.”

The grin widens at me. “Drop the phone on the floor, then kick it across to me. Both of you.”

Both phones by his feet, keeping his grip on Vicky, he stoops, stuffing them in a back pocket.

“That’s better…” He jabs toward me with the knife. “You're coming with me. You…”

Mom jolts to life. “You don't want her. You like hookers, don't you. You want a whore to play your games

with.”

Harkness pauses. “So?”

“She's not a hooker.”

“I saw her. Playing those men against each other. Making out with all three of them.”

“She’s an amateur. It's me you want.”

“Why would I want you?”

*****

HARKNESS

“Why would I want you?”

They both stare at me, horrified, groin-rippling shock on their faces.

The younger one picks up one of the kids. The brat still on the floor starts bawling, totters close and

grabs her leg. She glances down at him… “Shhh. It’s alright. Be a good boy.” She stares at me with

gimlet green eyes, clutching the kid to her.

“You think?” I grin.

The older one plasters on a smile. It’s fake, but it’s a good try. She shimmies closer, turning it on. “You

don't want her,” she murmurs. “It’s me you want.”

“Mom, no…”

“I told you to shut the fuck up. When I want your mouth open, it won’t be for talking.”

She’s pretty good-looking, the old whore. Almost as much so as her bitch daughter. Must have looked

after herself well.

“You don't want her…” she repeats. Her voice is smooth and sultry. “…And the children don't belong

here. I understand. I’m good at what I do. I know what you’d like. Let my daughter take the children

away. I'll give you what you’re looking for.”