“I’m so sorry, Max,” I whispered. “This is my fault.”
His tail wagged at the sound of my voice, then he turned to walk to the kitchen. I listened as his body opened the doggy door, and he slid through it to the backyard. Wendy turned her attentions to my fingers and washed them with the dedication to cleanliness only a cat can have.
I smiled at her.She reminds me so much of Dancer.
“Look, kid,” I muttered, picking her up to set her beside her brother. “I have to get up.” I stood, stiff, and stretched. Declan stood at the top of the stairs, gazing down at me. I lifted my hand toward him.
“Come on, honey. Let’s get you some breakfast.”
Obeying me, Declan sat at the table in his jammies, watching as I made breakfast. I sensed the questions hovering behind his lips. What should I say in reply?The truth.Even a child of five deserves to hear the truth. Especially when his home was invaded and his father injured.
Declan didn’t ask until after he’d downed his morning cereal. Not hungry, I drank my coffee, watching Wendy and Peter sit patiently on the floor watching Declan eat. Max declined his morning repast, lying near the door with his muzzle on his paws.
“Who was that man?” Declan finally inquired.
“A bad man,” I said slowly. “He was looking for me.”
“Why?”
While I knew the question was coming, I found it difficult to answer. At last, I replied, “I saw something I shouldn’t have. A crime. The criminal knows I witnessed it, and now wants to hurt me.”
“Why?”
“Because I can put him in jail.”
Declan frowned. “But if he’s in jail, he can’t hurt you.”
“True. But he has friends whowon’tbe in jail andcanhurt me. That man last night was one of his friends.”
“Oh.”
Leaving my chair, I crouched beside his to look up into his troubled face. “That’s why I need to leave you, kiddo. Your dad got hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“No,” he cried. “No. You can’t leave.”
“Honey, if I stay here, you might get hurt. If I leave, you’ll be safe.”
His frown morphed into a scowl, an expression that should be comical on his small face, but oddly wasn’t. “I’ll protect you.” His fierce tone startled me. “I can, you know. I have claws and fire. If that bad man comes here, I’ll get him.”
“Thank you, sweetie, but I can’t risk it. I have to go.”
“You hafta stay here and take care of Dad,” he said, stubborn. “It’s your job. Right? You take care of Dad and me.”
I sat back on my heels, defeated. How can a five-year-old be clever enough to utilize emotional blackmail? Well, he just did. He was right. I couldn’t abandon them now. Avery was in no shape to care for Declan, and he needed me to nurse him back to health.
“You’re right,” I murmured. “I’ll stay until your dad is well again. Then I’ll leave.”
Declan smirked. “I’ll find a way to keep you.”
***
Avery lay on his back, staring at the ceiling when I quietly entered his room. His gray flesh hadn’t regained much color, and lines of pain encircled his nose and mouth. He rolled his head on the pillow and tried a smile.
“Mawning,” he drawled.
Sitting on his bed’s edge, I cupped his cheek and pressed my palm against his brow. “No fever.”
“Told you, I don’t get infections.”
