The Fledge Effect (20 page)

Dusk turned to dawn.
Emily woke to just a sliver of sunlight
escaping through her curtains. She trotted
down the steps then sidled between Maddie and
Trudy only to find no coffee has yet been
brewed. She scowled, turned to the living room
in silence.
She paused at the doorway, saddened.
“Nick still hasn’t woke up?” she said as Trudy
rounded behind her with a take-out cup from
Coffee World. “Thanks.”
“No, nor has Calista. Sweetie… it has
been over twelve hours. I think, well, you know.
Maybe it’s time for some arrangements.”
“No. We, I, just need to go see him at
the hospital. Maybe my voice will wake him up.”
Her mother, glazed with sympathy, patted her on the arm. “You, go. We’ll be fine right
here.”
She sauntered over to the front door,
stopped by the line of Red Fates in the plant
holder on her windowsill. “What are we going to
do with these? I mean, I worked so hard raising
them. It’d be a shame to see them wasted. I
mean, if you raise something, you should love it.
Right? No matter how much trouble came along
with it.”
“Yes, but some things are best left in the
past. Whether you raised them, or not, doesn’t
mean you have to keep them.
Or, keep reminders of them
.”
She stepped out onto the front porch,
smelling the sweet scent of the first spell of
morning dew. Strange as it may seem, that was
her therapy. Something about the mixture of
damp mud, and autumn, always gave her an unwinding-a-tight-knot-in-the-gut feeling. She
gazed over to the swing set, captivated by the
smiling faces of Jack and his daughter.
“Hey, you’re up early.”
Jack shrugged. “Well, they do say ‘
kids
bring sleepless nights
’,” he said, chuckled. “In
this case, they weren’t kidding.”
She giggled, short, and then dropped
her gaze.
Yeah, even if you don’t have the child
in your arms, you still worry where they are.
“Hey. Are you okay? You look like
you’re about to cry,” Steven said, sneaked up behind her.
She jumped, wiped away a faint tear.
“Uh, no. Just… uh… worried about Nick, is all.”
He slipped his hand out of his pocket,
revealed her box. “I think this belongs to you.
And, uh, I know. Nick knows.”
“What if he forgot?”
“This,” he tapped the top of the box, “is
not something anyone should ever forget.”
She nodded, faintly. “Yeah… you’re
right. I should
never
try to forget anything, or
anyone, I care about.” She grabbed the box,
placed it safely inside her purse.
“Have you found Agent Kay?”
“No. But, all of the Fledges are back to
normal. So, I don’t really see a threat there.”
“She worked on Project Fledge. She has
the knowledge to recreate it. What if she brings
back the Fledge gene?”
“She was just a pawn. Look, go see Nick.
Check on him.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to stay here. I mean, Maddie
may not live forever, but my forever will always
have her.”
Emily grinned, shy. “Okay. Just, be
careful. I’m her sister, and I know how to use a
gun.”
“Sounds fair.”
She climbed into her car, and drove off.
After a short drive, she arrived to Nick’s
hospital room. She peered around the door, seeing him wide-awake. “Nick?” she whispered,
bolting to his side then hugging him tight
around the neck.
“Emily, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she pulled away,
gripping his shoulders until he winced. “How
long have you been awake? Why didn’t you
call?”
His lips went from a curled line to a,
flat, stern, appearance. “Emily, I think there is
something we need to discuss—“
“Look, I know. I should have told you
about her sooner. But I didn’t know hos, and I
was scared to tell you, and, and… I am so sorry.”
She began swelling in the eyes with tears of resentment. Not at him, but herself for lying to
him for so long.
“Um,” he grabbed her hands, brought
them up to his lips, “its okay. I’m not mad.”
“Wait, what? Not mad? You have every
right to be mad. You should be furious with me.
Why are you not mad?” she narrowed her eyes,
failing to read his steady gaze. “Why?”
He smiled. “Because I know who she is.
I saw the pictures and adoption papers in the
box. I only had time to see the pictures before I
passed out.”
“Y-you’ve s-seen h-her?” she said, wobbling her chin, fighting back the warmth in her
cheeks.
“Yeah.” He nodded, pulling his lips
back into a heart-melting, chiseled, grin. “She’s
good.”
“Where?”
“You know that coffee house, in Middletown? Uh, Espresso Café?”
“Yeah. I send Marcel there two or three
times a week. It’s the only place in town that
sells a decent cup of coffee. Why is that so important? I want to know more about my daughter.”
“She’s the owner. Well, semi-owner.
Her adoptive family runs, owns, and operations
the entire corporation.”
“Wow, so she is okay?”
“And always will be. You have nothing
to worry about anymore.”
“I just want to meet her. I mean, actually, meet her.”
“You will. We will, together.”
“What will she think? Will she think I’m
a bad mother? Will she forgive me? Will she understand it wasn’t my choice to give up my precious angel? I just want her to know that I love
her, and thought about her every day.”
Nick pulled her into his chest, rubbing
her back. Her sobs calmed as he hushed her
gently.
A shadow covered the floor at the doorway. Nick waved, then dropped his lips to
Emily’s ear. “
Turn around, and meet your
daughter.
”
As if time stood still, Emily spun
around. Her daughter, stood, holding her elbow
with one hand. She wore a white sweater that
drooped across her chest and shoulders. Her
jeans, untethered, and well hemmed. Emily
could tell, by her pinkish complexion, that she
was, indeed, well taken care of.
Her heart pounded, hard. She felt almost breathless, speechless. “H-hey.” Was all
she could muster, choking back a hard lump in
her throat.
Brooke, with wide, emerald eyes,
dropped her chin. She pinched back a smile,
and said, “Hey.”
Even though their time has passed, the
warm embrace of a daughters’ hug always fills
the heart with the memories no mother should
erase. They are meant to reside in the heart, no
matter the situation. Memories, some, are
meant to serve as they are intended; as reminders. Reminders that life is all too real, and time,
is just a clock ticking away. At this time, Emily
realized, instead of years of grief, and pity, she
should have been dreaming of the day she first
met her daughter. Instead of the days, she’s imagined in her mind.

This book would not have been possible if it wasn’t for
the disinterest of my family. Never were they there to
read or sample my stories. Nor were they there to tell

me, “You are doing a wonderful job.” Instead, they were
there saying, “Get your head out of the clouds and get a
real job. You are a lazy person for being a writer.”
If it weren’t for their disbelief in my art, then I would
have never found the fuel to light the fire beneath me and
bleed out these words. If it wasn’t for that, I would not
have been inspired enough to prove them wrong.
For that, I thank them. So, thank you dearest family.
With much love, I give to you, for finding what pushes
me. Even though you were being honest, you did not realize that honesty is what I have always craved in a world
full of snakes, liars, and backstabbers.
Thank you, again.

RJ HENRY lives in a hardworking life. As does
many fellow other people. RJ loves the life of
writing more than anything. RJ dedicates every
second to spare to writing. RJ lives in the mind,
and inherits the heart. If you enjoy the life of
thrilling reads. RJ will not disappoint you.