Now:
“Katie, stop that,” Ororo snapped. She reached over to snatch her from the ledge of the sidewalk where she pretended to walk a balance beam. Her right foot dipped centimeters shy of the street as she cat-stepped, letting her backpack bounce against her body. The morning was overcast again, and Ororo smelled and tasted a hint of rain in the air.
In typical Katie fashion, her daughter had to keep pushing the envelope.
“I’m not doing anything. I’m just walking,” she insisted. Her footing wobbled as cars whizzed and roared past at the green light. Katie stood out amongst the crowd of sedate people in trench coats and business beige, buttoned up snugly in her red fall jacket with a brown corduroy collar. Baby blue sneakers with Tinkerbell smiling out from the sides stomped through the shallow remains of puddles from the day before.
“Don’t do that, Katie, you’ll get people wet and your pants will be dirty!”
“I’m not getting anybody wet,” she sang innocently, but she found herself hauled firmly against her mother’s side by the hand. Ororo raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice.
“You’re getting your mother upset. I wouldn’t keep that up if I were you. Unless you feel like having a talk when we get home.” Katie peered up at her through solemn hazel eyes. “Talks” meant groundings and time-outs.
“Uh-uh.”
“Look both ways.” She diligently hooked her hand through the crook of Ororo’s arm, and they swam through the crowd of people crossing Main Street. The car was still in the shop, and the muffler was the tip of the costly iceberg. Her alternator was acting like it wanted to go out, and she was three hundred miles away from needing a tune-up.
So she was hoofing it to the Katie’s school from the route five transit, groaning at how much longer her day was just from waking up at the crack of dawn. The blankets whispered seductively, Don’t go. Stay. Feel how soft we are. You know you want to. She wrested herself from their embrace; they seemed to tangle around her and cling like Velcro to her flannel pajama bottoms. Oh, the humanity. They ran the gamut of their morning routine that found Ororo hunting down Katie’s backpack and nagging her to finish her cinnamon toast.
She was just so damned tired.
“I need a new lunch box,” Katie informed her before she resumed her cat-stepping along the curb.
“What happened to your old one?” Of course, it had actually been pretty new.
“I don’t know.” Ororo already promised her lunch money for pizza day, so she hadn’t noticed that it had gone missing over the weekend.
“You need to find out, then. I don’t have new lunch box money every time you lose your belongings, baby. You need to be more careful than that.” They were approaching the next intersection, four blocks from the school.
Before Ororo could launch into the rest of her lecture “ falling upon deaf ears “ she heard the ominous snap of Katie’s backpack’s toggle clasp giving way. Several items tumbled out, scattering across the pavement.
A pink rubber ball rolled free, bouncing into the street.
“I’ll get it!” Katie was off like a shot before Ororo could blink.
“KATIE! GET BACK HERE!” Her heart trip-hammered in her chest, and her voice rushed out in misty puffs into the frosty air. She didn’t think. Her own vinyl cold pack fell from her fingers, and her feet leapt from the curb. “KATIE!” Her flight stunned passerby for five breathless seconds.
The screech of brakes was shrill and deafening, followed by the thump of the rear tires bouncing to a halt. Her arms flew around her daughter’s slender, sturdy body, and she curled her own around her, sliding to her knees to avoid knocking them into the next lane. Her breath shuddered out from her lips, and the slam of a car door punctuated the murmur of voices in the street.
“Oh, my God,” she panted, “Katie, you can’t ever do that again! Do you hear me?”
“My ball fell out,” she answered in a small voice, and she looked stunned, suddenly afraid in the wake of what almost happened. Ororo stood on shaky legs, and she was greeted by the angriest looking man she’d ever seen. A long line of cars behind his made a stark backdrop, making her stomach roil. She tugged her daughter to safety, and she searched for words to appease the driver, who’d surely been scared out of ten years of life.
“Are ya okay?” he barked, his dark eyes pinning Ororo and her daughter to the spot. His face was regaining its color, and he was just getting warmed up. “She ran right out in front of my car!” he accused.
“I know; I’m so sorry,” Ororo began, hugging her daughter against her side. He scowled and relaxed his shoulders a bit; they’d locked themselves against his ears when he lurched to a stop.
“This woulda been the worst day of my life, lady, and yours, if I hadn’t stopped in time,” he snapped. He turned his gaze toward Katie, staring into her gamine face. “I know ya wanted yer ball back, kiddo, but ya coulda been hit by my car. When that happens, people don’t just get back up. There could’ve been an awful accident.”
“I dropped it,” she explained petulantly. His frown was still pasted firmly in place, even as his eyes roved over her to make sure she was all right. Ororo felt the tension thrumming within him like a plucked string.
“It’s important to remember yer street safety rules, kiddo.”
“Katie,” she little girl insisted, feeling a long, well-deserved lecture coming on. Two cars drifted into the next lane, edging around his once the spectacle was over and honking impatiently.
“Wait one sec,” he ordered Ororo tersely, and he turned sharply on his heel to retrieve and move his car. He pulled it up two spaces to parallel park. She was inwardly impressed with how easily he manipulated the wheel and parked on a dime. He hopped back out before she could begin to walk away; Ororo was restless with how late her watch said it was, and she had to get her child to school.
“Ya never run into the street,” Logan puffed. “I don’t care if the ball’s made out of solid gold. I’ve seen too many kids get hurt.” Ororo’s mouth settled into a mulish line when he said “I watched ya for two blocks. Keep your girl off the curb.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” She gathered up her lunch pack and Katie’s backpack, stuffing the contents inside. She was bristling and muttering under her breath when she felt a gentle nudge through her sleeve.
Katie’s ball, gripped in a broad, large-boned hand. She followed the line of his arm to his face. It seemed familiar, and intense. Anger still tightened his features, but there was nothing unkind in his eyes or tone.
“Here. Don’t let anything happen to it.”
“Thanks.” She plucked it from his grip and stuffed it inside. The momentary contact when her fingers grazed his made her shiver; his skin felt slightly rough and warm.
“M’sorry, Mom,” Katie murmured. Ororo spared her a glance, and her daughter’s face was crumpling, the first sheen of tears appearing in her eyes.
His rough demeanor softened just for a second. “I don’t want anything to happen to ya.” His words were earnest. Ororo emitted a ragged sigh. She was glad he’d stopped and shown some concern; his hard demeanor rankled, and it was scaring her daughter.
“We’ll get going,” Ororo announced. Then she added, “We didn’t mean to hold you up like this, or practically give you a heart attack.”
“Ya did a fair job of both,” he admitted. Her hair had come slightly loose from her bun. It was a startling, blazing white, even though she was only in her mid-thirties. He’d bet on it. His fingers itched to touch it; he had no idea where that urge came from. “Please. Just stay safe.”
“Say goodbye to Mister…?” Ororo waited for him to supply a name. Katie looked at him expectantly.
“Howlett.” He cocked his head at the woman’s little girl. Her mannerisms reminded him of Gayle.
It still hurt. It pained him a little more when she ducked behind the flap of her mother’s coat when he stared too long. “Goodbye, Mister Howlett,” he heard her mumble.
“Bye,” Ororo murmured, and she tugged Katie along with her. He got back into his car and cursed at the spilled coffee dripping onto his upholstery. He spied the clock; he had ten minutes to get to work for a fifteen-minute drive, and he was already fishing his cell out of his pocket. She was nearly out of sight by the time he rejoined the stream of traffic, but he caught tresses of that remarkable hair whipping loose, a sharp contrast to her daughter’s sandy crown of curls.
~0~
Ororo was in a lather by the time she reached the women’s locker room and signed in. Bella stared at her grimly as she shucked her coat.
“Emma’s on the war path,” she quipped. “We’re short today.”
“Great,” she groaned. She checked her hair in the mirror above the sink. It was hopeless; she took it down and re-pinned it anyway.
“What held you up?”
“Just my little girl, almost getting herself killed,” she replied cavalierly, even though she was still shaken. Bella’s intake of breath was accompanied by wide blue eyes as she covered her mouth.
“Shit!” she cried before smothering the profanity.
“S’okay. I said and thought worse.” She still sounded rattled. “It was bad enough trying to get here on the bus with no ride for Katie today and no car. But her backpack flew open and this damned ball rolled out right into traffic.”
“Wow. I would have been seriously upset and then crying my thank you’s to God.”
“Everything stopped,” Ororo replied. “Even when I’m old and gray “ really gray,” she qualified, “I won’t forget how horrible that was.”
“So what happened?”
“The driver hopped out of his car and gave us good tongue-lashing. I don’t blame him, but that didn’t make me feel any better. It’s just lucky he didn’t end up rear-ended, too.”
“But Katie’s okay?”
“She was shook up; she cried when we got to school, and she didn’t want me to leave.” The feeling was mutual. It was always hard to let go.
Emma breezed inside, meeting Ororo’s apologetic look with one of annoyance. “You need to get out there, we’re understaffed, and we just had two air transports from a wreck a hundred miles from here.” She peered down at Ororo’s lunch sack. “Put that away,” she huffed. Ororo’s eyes screamed No, duh. Emma hurried back out in a pink blur.
“Back to the salt mines,” Bella sighed, and Ororo gave a weak wave as she went to stow her lunch. She unzipped the flap and frowned.
“Great.” Everything had spilled. Her bread was soaked. She ended up emptying the contents and rinsing out the pack. Hello, vending machine.
Her morning was complete when she found a sticky note on her timecard. Luke had called her at work. She swallowed back the beginnings of indigestion.
~0~
“Ya seem mighty quiet, homme,” Remy remarked as they navigated through the business district, on their way to a call about public fighting and disturbing the peace. Logan scrubbed his hand over his face.
“Day’s been crap, and it ain’t even noon.”
“Who pissed in yer coffee?”
“It wasn’t like that.” After a pregnant pause, his voice rumbled through thin lips. “I almost ran down a little girl.” Remy sobered, his black eyes full of concern. “Damn. She all right?”
“Yeah. I ain’t. Her mom looked pretty shook up. That ain’t how I wanna start my day. Scared the crap outta both of us.”
“How old was the girl?”
“’Bout ten. Old enough to know better. She ran after her ball.”
“I hate that. Damn it, I hate that more’n anyt’in’.”
“Ya know me. The speed limit’s my Bible. And ya know why.” Remy listened intently as he turned right. “So I guess if anybody had ta have a near miss, it had ta be me.”
“Ya think?”
“Yep. Anyone else wouldn’t have missed.” Remy nodded thoughtfully. They didn’t have any trouble finding the source of the disturbance. A small crowd of bystanders were blocking the sidewalk when they parked.
The crowd dispersed as soon as they approached. Logan’s eyes looked like flat chips of black ice. Two young men who were old enough to know better broke apart when they saw them and attempted to rearrange rumpled clothing. Both of their faces bore myriad cuts; the shorter of the two had the beginnings of a swollen lip. Remy took up the gauntlet first.
“We’ll need you folks t’clear out of the area now,” he informed them, his tone crisp and once again all business. Logan’s eyes swept over the two men, searching for bulging pockets. When the onlookers weren’t moving fast enough, Remy strode forward and continued to wave them away. People dragged stubborn feet away from the curb while Logan approached them.
“We received word of a disturbance. Physical altercations aren’t allowed in public places like these, and I think ya know that,” Logan mused. The taller one already had scars across his nose from previous conduct, marring an otherwise clear, almond brown complexion. His eyes flitted between the two officers, and Logan saw dawning realization that he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this one.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t try.
“We weren’t doin’ nuthin’, officer, we just had an argument, you know, and my boy was just messin’ with me…” This was met by a scowl from the other one, who was rocking back and forth from one foot to the other, looking like he wanted to bolt.
“Yer boy, eh?”
“We weren’t doin’ nuthin’,” he insisted. “I was on my way to work!”
“Looks like y’might end up bein’ late,” Remy sighed as he beckoned to him, tugging him by the arm toward the squad car. He patted him down quickly and found no blunt objects or weapons; he ignored the muttered curses of disgust. Logan followed his partner’s example as he took down their names, mentally cataloguing the details that would end up in his report before the day was through.
When they were securely cuffed and tucked into the car, Remy was just radioing dispatch when Logan’s eyes gave the street one more sweep. Various sets of eyes stared back at them from shop windows and a nearby newsstand. His glance hesitated at the sight of a tall, dark-skinned man clad in a Minnesota Vikings jacket, rifling furtively through the magazines and taking his time selecting a pack of gum at the register. He continued to peer at the squad car, trying to sneak looks inside.
His eyes were still following them as they pulled away.
~0~
Ororo’s stomach rumbled noisily as she crammed the key into her lock, but her first priority was to call her mother to let her know she was home so she could drop off Katie. She ran through her to-do list, mentally ticking off points on her fingers. Homework. More permission slips. Bills. Balancing her checkbook. Calling Belladonna to RSVP no to her Pampered Chef party that weekend. Calling the shop back to see when her car would be ready.
She drew herself up short as soon as she set foot in her empty apartment. Something felt wrong. Something smelled wrong. Her sneakered feet lightened their steps as she made her way down the front hall without shutting the door behind her.
She clapped her hands over her mouth on a hollow, hoarse cry. “Oh, my God!”
Her kitchen was a shambles. Sofa and couch cushions were overturned, her kitchen jars lay smashed across the counter and floor, leaving fresh scars in the linoleum. Food that she hadn’t left out of the refrigerator was lying open on the kitchen table, spilling from the Tupperware bowls. A small wooden jewelry box that she used for spare change instead had been emptied except for a few pennies winking up at her from the carpet.
A photo of herself and Katie was missing from a frame on the side table, its glass cracked. Terror bloomed across her flesh, leaving icy tingles in its wake.
She felt weak in the knees as her feet carried her toward her bedroom, her heart pounding its way out of her chest. She felt violated and raw, but she already had her cell phone out of her purse as she rounded the corner to peer inside. A voice of reason screamed at her to get out, and move it as fast as she could, but she squelched it.
Nothing had been spared. Bed sheets were flung aside, her hamper was emptied, and her clothes littered the floor, the wire hangers hanging crookedly and tangled together along the rack. More of her personal effects were strewn about. Her underwear drawer hadn’t been spared; it even hung slack from the runner, gaping open and about to fall loose.
Her computer was missing from its nook in her desk.
“Oh, God, no,” she moaned. All of her personal information. All of her pictures of Katie, taken. Her hands were trembling as she made her way out again, knowing she had to see one more thing before she exited her ruined home.
Katie’s room. She nudged it open with her elbow, letting her eyes sweep over her daughter’s belongings.
Everything was intact except for the same disregard for the drawers in her bureau. Her clothes were still hanging but were shoved askew, as though whoever it was couldn’t be bothered to do a more thorough search. The biggest offense was that the tiny jewelry box that Kitty had given her as a gift for her First Communion was gone, and the keepsake gold identification bracelet engraved with her name with it. The covers on her bed were rumpled and folded aside as though someone looked under it.
She’d finished dialing 911 before she even left the apartment.
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