Fire and Ice

We watched as the daughter, Delia, disappeared down the hall. My father’s lips curled into a smirk as he turned to my sister.

“Well, my dearest?” he asked.

She arched a brow. “No,” she said. “For the millionth time, no.”

His jaw clenched and I knew he was ready to strike her. I looked over at my door, yearning to go in and be away from my father. I had to wait until he excused me, though.

“And why not?” he demanded. “She’s young, she’s beautiful, she’s unclaimed.”

Marie shook her head. “If her father were to find out, we will be in much trouble.”

My father started to laugh. “Ah, but we need a bargaining chip,” he said in a quiet voice. “Perhaps young Delia is just the one we need.”

“What do you think André?” my sister asked and I sighed.

“I have no opinion,” I said in a monotone voice.

I never did. I wasn’t allowed to have one.

My father glared at me. “That’s right,” he said. “You don’t have one. For the five days we are here, keep your silence. Do whatever your stupid brain comes up with except for one thing.”

“And what is that?” I sighed but I already knew what it was.

“Keep from Delia,” he ordered.

“Yes, Father,” I said. “May I go rest now?”

“I don’t care,” he said and turned his back on me.

I went into my room and closed the door quietly. I looked around my room in interest. Unlike my father and sister’s, it wasn’t nearly as grand. I knew that was part of his instructions as well. The bed looked comfortable enough, though, and I sat down.

A TV was built into the wall but I didn’t feel like watching television. Even though it was the 22nd century, my mind and heart belonged in the 19th. Back in those days, life was simpler. Back in those days, my mother was alive and able to curb my father. Now that task was my sister’s and she wasn’t as successful as my mother had been.

I fell onto my back and let out a long sigh. I had no idea what I would do while I was here. I really wanted to be around Delia. The minute I saw her I knew something was important and special about her. And the way she looked at me told me the feeling was shared. My father had made it clear, though, that all I’d be good for is a distraction while he went about his schemes.

I tried to take a nap but was unsuccessful. I took my jacket off and changed into a pair of loose jeans and a black t-shirt. After putting on my tennis shoes, I wandered down the stairs. A man that looked like Logan was standing in the living room, drinking something with a magazine. He saw me and smiled.

“You must be André,” he said and I nodded, doing the salute.

“Yes. And you are?”

“Oh! I am Kirk Wolfe,” he said, putting the cup and magazine down to do the wolf salute. “I am Logan’s father.”

“It’s a pleasure,” I mumbled.

“Shouldn’t you be in the meeting with your father and sister?” he asked.

“No.” I cleared my throat. “Do you have a garden by any chance?”

“We do,” he nodded. “Follow me.”

I put my hands behind my back and did so. He led me through a back door and into a courtyard. In the middle, was a beautiful garden. It wasn’t what I expected, though.

A small stream wound through it. Flowers and other shrubs sprouted in random places and there were a few sculptures. On the far side, a small waterfall provided the flow of fresh water.

“It’s lovely,” I said.

Kirk smiled. “Yes. This is Delia’s special place. Speak of the devil,” he added when he looked around a tree.

“Oh!”

Delia jumped. She had headphones in her ears and was sketching on a notepad. She stood up and smiled.

“Sorry,” she said, taking the headphones out. “I didn’t think anyone would come in here.”

I tried to speak but failed miserably.

“I was just showing young André the garden.”

Delia smiled at it proudly. “I love it here.”

I nodded. Kirk’s phone rang and he excused himself. I sighed, remembering my father’s orders.

“Well, excuse me,” I mumbled.

“Do you want to join me?” she asked, holding up the sketch pad.

It would be bad manners to say no; especially since I was a guest in her home. I did love to draw, too. I bit my lip and she smiled again.

“I don’t bite, Mr. Lebeau.”

It’s not you I’m worried about you.

“I suppose I can until my father and sister are out of session,” I said softly.

I sat beside her on the stone bench and she passed me some paper and a clipboard. I glanced at her sketch to see a replica of one of the flowers. I looked around for inspiration but the only thing I could think of was sitting beside me.

“Perhaps I could draw you?” I asked, hiding my face.

“Oh,” she said. “I guess. I’ve never had anyone draw me before so you’ll have to tell me what to do.”

I chuckled. “Just sit still.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

She sat up straight and straightened her hair. I tucked some of mine behind my ear so I could concentrate and looked up occasionally to make sure I was getting everything right. At the same time, I listened for my father’s voice.

It was amazing to draw her. Everything about her was beautiful from the few rebellious strands and her full lips. I’ve never seen the result of a mixed race marriage and it was wonderful to see.

I was putting the finishing touches on her lips when I sensed my father. Two seconds later, I heard his voice. I jumped.

“I-I have to go,” I said. “Um- Uh, here.”

I gave her everything then hurried out, looking around for a place to sit. I went into the living room and grabbed a random magazine.

“And then I drove the sword right through his chest,” my father boasted, coming down the stairs.

“Very impressive,” Mr. Wolfe said. “I’ve never been very good at swords.”

“No? What kind of weapon then?”

“Wolves don’t need weapons, Father,” my sister said. I stood up as they entered the living room. “Remember?”

“I always forget,” he said and narrowed his eyes at me. “What have you done while we were speaking?”

“I was resting,” I lied easily just as Delia walked in. “The beds are comfortable and a nap is what I needed.”

“Ah! Did you draw something new?” Mr. Wolfe asked Delia.

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before showing him something.

“I thought I’d try the perennial,” she said. “It didn’t come out very well.”

“My daughter is a wonderful artist,” her father said and mine swept over, standing to look over her shoulder.

She moved closer to Mr. Wolfe who looked upset and put his arm around her shoulders protectively. I knew my father noticed; I could sense his frustrations. He was realizing that his plan wasn’t going to be as easy as he originally thought.

“Oh, and a self-portrait?” her father asked and I did my best to keep my face neutral.

“Of sorts,” she said. I knew she was looking at me. “How did your talk go?”

“Quite well,” my father said, finally stepping away from her. “Your father is a good negotiator.”

Delia smiled proudly at him. “He’s the best.”

Mr. Wolfe narrowed his eyes. “All right, little cub. What is it you’re wanting this time?”

She laughed. “Oh, nothing,” she said innocently. “Perhaps a nap though?”

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “Please excuse her,” he said.

“Yes, yes of course,” my father said. “Proper resting is important.”

“Indeed it is,” Mr. Wolfe agreed and kissed Delia on the forehead.

He whispered something in her ear that made her smile falter. She nodded a couple times then hurried upstairs.

“André,” Mr. Wolfe said and I looked at him. “Perhaps tomorrow you and Delia could do a tour of the town.”

I shifted. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, avoiding my father’s gaze. “I’ve never been the one to enjoy the outdoors and-”

“I insist,” he said in a firm voice.

I looked at my father who nodded grudgingly. It was obvious Mr. Wolfe’s request was an order and we’d be stupid to deny him.

“A tour would be great,” I said and he smiled at me.