A Modern Love Story (2 page)

“I think it stopped. Don’t you worry about me. Snuggle in now to keep warm.” He hooked an arm around her slight form as he bit his quivering lip. “We have each other, right? We’ll take care of each other.”

Onward “Kashmir” played, stuck in a perpetual loop, numbing Robbie’s mind into a stupor as she absently rubbed her daddy’s blood between her fingers.

*****

It took her three months to stop referring to them as
Mommy
and
Daddy
in her therapy sessions—names she had never used before that day. Not that she remembered, anyhow. And there were still days she had to remind herself, convince herself, they were really gone. Yet, here she was. Bag packed and moving away from St. Joseph’s Orphanage. At nine months, it was the longest time she had ever called a place
home
in a long, long time. And she was terrified to leave.

They told her she was going to a nice home, a
real
home they called it. Foster care. The words sounded dirty to her. Isn’t that where the rotten kids went? The ones no one loved? But she wasn’t bad, and she was loved. Or had been, once.

“It’s time to go, Robbie.”

With one last look at the busy street, she turned away from the window and heaved the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“Do you need help with your bag?”

“No, ma’am,” Robbie responded, staring down at the toes of her Mary Janes, and then frowned. She really hated those shoes. She smoothed out her jumper. She really hated wearing jumpers.

They said they were taking her to another city. What was it called? Winooski. That was what it was. But she didn’t believe them; the ride was way too short and they never broke free of the sprawling city of Burlington. Maybe they had it wrong. Or maybe she did.

They stopped in front of the cheery yellow house with white trim. It was a nice little house, she decided. Nice wide porch. Nice big tree in the front. Nice green lawn. It was…nice.

A lean woman bounced down the steps to greet them. Her hair was a cap of blond—yellow to match the house, Robbie thought—and her smile was as bright as Robbie had ever seen before. She seemed…nice.

Mrs. Anita, with her no-nonsense business suit and tightly spun bun, gestured for Robbie to join them on the sidewalk. “Come along, Robbie. Let’s not dawdle.”

Dawdle. What a ridiculous word, and one of Mrs. Anita’s favorites, without a doubt. “Yes, ma’am.” She slid out of the backseat, dragging her bag behind her.

“Robbie Byrne, meet Leah Selwyn. She’ll be your foster mother.”

Leah crouched down and aimed that beaming smile right at Robbie. With a hand held out, she said, “I’m very pleased to have you in my home, Robbie. I hope you’ll be happy here.”

Robbie stared at her hand, looking for teeth, a trap, anything that should have her alert and aware. Glancing to the woman’s baby blues, she decided to go with her first impression: She was nice.

“Thank you, ma’am.” And with the manners her own parents had taught her, she took her hand and firmly pumped it once.

“Please, call me Leah. Lawson, your foster father, was supposed to be here to greet you, but, unfortunately, was held up on the work site. I hope you can forgive him that.”

“
S’okay
.”

“And Lucian was supposed to be around, too, but your arrival seems to have slipped his mind.”

Mrs. Anita squeezed Robbie’s shoulder. “Lucian is another child staying with the Selwyn’s. How’s he getting along these days, Leah?”

Leah straightened, nodding with a smile. “Very well. He’s continually testing the waters, but he’s a good boy. Certainly keeps me on my toes.” She held out a hand to Robbie. “Ready to go in and see your new home?”

Robbie nodded as she glanced to Mrs. Anita.

“Go along now, Robbie. You’re in good hands.”

“Yes, ma’am.” And she bravely followed, the gentle stranger leading the way.

*****

Luc raced through the thicket of underbrush, not noticing the way it grabbed to cling at his clothes; clothes already tattered and dirty from a day of rough play, and an even rougher fight.

She’ll draw first blood, he decided. Leah will skin him alive and then Lawson will pick the bones clean. Isn’t that what they threatened to do if he got into another fight? Or skin him alive and feed him to the dogs to pick clean? Whatever. They were going to kill him.

Let them try.

He slowed from a flat-out run to a slow jog, and then a brisk walk. Stubbornness slowed his feet, but sheer stupidity had his chin jutting into the air as he walked through the back door. Glancing to his feet, he cringed and walked back out, wiped them, and then came back in. He told himself it was only to save himself the hassle of cleaning the floor later, something Leah would no doubt nag him about until his ears bleed. Damn her.

“And this will be your room.”

Leah’s voice carried down the hall, and the statement had him confused until he remembered what day it was.
 
“Shit,” he mumbled, sulking through the kitchen. New kid. And not any new kid, a
girl
. And not any girl, one with a
guy’s
name. What the fuck, right? This was gonna suck ass.

“I’ll be making dinner shortly, and—” Leah’s eyes bugged out of her head and her hands flew to her hips. Luc successfully fought the urge to hang his head and even lifted it a measure instead. “Lucian Cintrone! What have you been into now?”

“Nothing.” He eyed the waif of a girl standing next to the highly annoyed woman. The auburn hair against pale skin was dramatic, as were her eyes. The way they glimmered reminded Luc of Leah’s favorite necklace. What was it? An emerald? She was short—What a little squirt!—and her skin was pasty and sickly looking.

She better not ralph all over his shoes.

“Have you been in a fight again?”

His eyes dragged back to Leah. “Maybe. So what?”

“What happened? Who was it this time?”

“Tommy, but he deserved it with the way he was looking at me.”

“And what way was that?”

He paused, almost confused by the straight-forward question. “What do you mean? I just
told
you. He looked at me.”

“That’s—” She pinched her nose and heaved a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Robbie, this is Lucian. Lucian, Robbie.”

Luc merely nodded and hopped up on the stool by the counter, turning his back before he saw her response.

“I think I’m going to go unpack, if that’s okay with you, Leah.”

Leah’s smile warmed the room. “Absolutely, Robbie. Take your time, and let me know if you need anything at all.”

She brought out the first aid kit, rummaging for the antiseptic and bandages as she slated a glance at Luc. “You were supposed to be here when she arrived.”

“Aww. And I missed Maureen too, huh? That’s too bad.”

Leah swatted his arm. “That’s Mrs. Anita to you, mister.”

“Child abuser,” he mumbled, holding back his grin.

Leah laughed as she examined his knee. Torn pants, skin scraped and bloodied. “Nice impression you made on Robbie there, Luc. Despite your limitless charm on me now—note the sarcasm—you just earned yourself KP duty,
and
a personal tour of the neighborhood for Robbie tomorrow. And I’m talking
the works
.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Leah merely pointed a stern finger in his face.

“Fine.” He watched Leah tip the bottle of antiseptic with a cotton ball shoved over the mouth. “Take it easy on that stuff, Leah. That shit stings.”

Her mouth pursed as she began cleaning the wound.

“
Sonofabit
—”

“Lucian Cintrone, that’s enough of that! You just mind your
p’s
and
q’s
in front of a lady.”

Luc held back the smirk, but couldn’t stop the unbelieving raise of his eyebrows.

Leah laughed. “No, I would never presume to refer to myself as a
lady
. I meant our newest addition to the house.” She nodded towards Robbie standing in the doorway.

“Fine. I’ll mind my
p’s
and
q’s
. What the hell does that mean, anyhow?”

“Good lord, the effort it must have taken you to last two whole sentences before swearing again…” She rolled her eyes as she continued dabbing at his knee. “And to answer your question, quite simply, I don’t know.”

Robbie piping up from behind had Luc twisting around. “It originated in British pubs. It means
Mind your pints and quarts
. That’s the different sizes of what people drank. We have small, medium and large, they had pints and quarts. The man behind the bar would yell
Mind your
p’s
and
q’s
!
when a fight broke out so people wouldn’t spill.”

Luc stared at her a beat and then turned back to Leah. “She’s weird.”

“Lucian! Apologize. Now!”

He saw real anger there and looked back at Robbie. “I’m sorry I pointed out the obvious.”

“That’s okay. I guess I am, a little bit.”

“Aww, sweetie. No, you’re not.”

Lucian gawked at Leah and mouthed
Sweetie?
as a deliberate question.

“You shush, Luc.” She slapped a bandage on his knee.

“Hey!” He winced and glared with no effect.

“Go clean your room or something. I don’t want to see or hear from you before we eat.” Then she beamed a smile at Robbie. “Come on, sweetie. You can keep me company while I make dinner. Sound good?”

Luc slid off the stool and scowled as he passed the red-headed squirt. “I wouldn’t get too close to her. She might—”

“Lucian.” The warning was clear.

Satisfied, he let his smile spread from ear-to-ear as he walked to his room.

*****

 
“You better keep up Squirt ‘cause I’m not waiting on you. I don’t give a fuck what Leah has to say about that. Or Lawson either, for that matter.” Luc glanced over his shoulder. “You hear me?”

“Yeah.” Robbie bit her lip against what she really wanted to say, not sure how the rough-n-tough boy would react. He did nothing but talk, in her opinion. Okay, sure, it wasn’t like she’d ever known that many kids before, but still, he sure did like to hear himself. She’d never met another kid with so much to say, without really saying anything. Except swear words. He loved to cuss.
 

She studied him as he grumbled under his breath about stick-figure girls and a tiny pain in the ass, all the while kicking at every stone or pebble in his path. Even at twelve, he towered over Robbie, and yet, despite his lankiness, he wasn’t awkward and lumbering. He was fluid and strong. A tussled mop of dark hair matched his dark-brown eyes, which, in turn, matched his dark moods. And Robbie had to admit, she immediately admired him. Why couldn’t she be like that? Not the tall and dark part, but the hard and mean part. With anger like that, she bet she wouldn’t be so scared all the time.

Here was a kid who wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind, and exactly what he thought about it. Here was someone not afraid of his own shadow and able to take care of himself. She imagined there was nothing that would ever scare him. He’d never cower in the dark and jump at every sound in the night. He’d never have nightmares that had him fighting for air and getting all sweaty. No. Not him. He was all sleek and dangerous like a—