FSE

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Knock-knock...

...the sound of his knuckles wrapping gently on the worn cedar door. The wind had picked up, rustling the trees and dragging dry leaves across the ground. Carl coughed, eager to carry out his errands and retire for the day.

After he heard the news that Sandra was expecting, and twins no less, his thoughts directed themselves at how to increase the farm's size. Hiding the existence of three half-human, half-animal hybrids was hard enough given their stature, but more? And children at that, who can and will wander and explore as much as their abilities allowed? You need a much wider area under control to keep everything secret, and everything safe.

Which brought him to the last landowner in the immediate area. Jen, her name was. Formerly married, now living a secluded life on what remained of her savings complemented by a meagre allowance made selling foreign curios to folks in Barson City.

Knock-knock...

...a second time. A doorbell would be more suited to modern times, however one couldn't be picky when it came to these old rural houses. Couple of good, old-fashioned, solid knocks it is.

He was about to make a third attempt when the door swung open. An olive scowl greeted him; light Eastern features 'neath short dark hair betrayed her Qinese heritage, and a sharp pair of eyes homed in on his wind-blown face, reading him like an old tome.

“Who are you?"

“I—"

“I have not got all day!"

Clearing his throat, Carl spoke properly: “my name is Mr. Redweather; Carl if you want to be less formal."

“And why do you visit? What reason?"

“Sorry I thought you knew. I did call ahead..."

Nothing for a moment. Time stalled while the woman turned her attention inwards, then — at last — recollection.

“Ah!" her look changed from suspicion to familiarity, “I remember. You were on the phone last day."

Last day? Oh of course, “Yesterday...correct, yes."

To Jen Hwang-Xhi this stranger in her doorway offered solutions to her money woes. Gone would be the days of tending a large country house without the means to afford it. Thanks to her husband...or rather...ex-husband's departure she'd been left high and dry. That would all change soon. Hopefully. If this mysterious stranger came through for her.

Carl was welcomed inside. He was brought through the front hall which, while dark and cramped, bore an air of well-to-do gentry about it, hinting at former occupants far more resplendent than its current owner. Where and when this woman from Qina was able to acquire such a home was not the question here, Carl knew enough about her failed marriage to a Unimerican stockbroker to hazard a couple guesses. Whether she would be selling it was the real question.

“Would you like to sit with me in the dining room?" she asked. Carl quickly accepted and found himself a seat.

They chatted, leaning about the other's wants. Carl revealed how deep his knowledge of Jen's situation went, catching her off-guard in the preamble to negotiations proper. He knew of her broken marriage, her debts, all of it.

Jen wasn't amused by him digging into her past, a feeling she vocalised quite clearly as Carl spoke. That chapter of her life was fun while it lasted, the affluence of the upper-middle-class, a doting wife to her successful husband. That all fell apart as his years of drinking killed stone dead any chance of remaining happily married. When she'd handed him divorce papers he didn't complain, he'd already abandoned her for other women long ago; a serial adulterer as well as a cut-throat businessman.

This stranger's nonchalant recital of her recent misery irked her. She just wanted to get all this over with, find someone to sell the house to, and move on. To where? Jen didn't know. But if she didn't try to move on she'd be stuck here — in the middle of nowhere — forever.

“You know I want to see. That should be enough. No need to remind me of the past."

“I...uh...apologise if I was too forward with my—"

“I don't care what you know. We talk business."

“I just wanted to say that I understand you've been through hard times."

“Stop!"

He again said sorry. Don't blow this Carl, don't piss her off any more! Ugh, I hate dealing with people, wish Lacey could do it instead, but that ain't exactly an option anymore. Ms. Cain was better at using a person's life story to manipulate them.

The conversation carried on, albeit with hesitation. Carl managed to convince Jen he'd been trying the hard sell, and that he shouldn't have discussed personal issues — that was overstepping the bounds of professionalism — hoping to get back into her good graces and make her more receptive to his offer.

Jen was hesitant to sound like she was fully on-board with his proposition. On the one hand, it seemed too good to be true: money, hopefully enough to move on with...and peace of mind, for closing this chapter of her life permanently. The other, of course, was the faint worry it wouldn't be enough. Jen wanted to make sure her life will be secure, and comfortable, from now on. Uncertainty was the biggest issue.

She excused herself. Leaving to make some tea, she gave Carl some time to think. The man's thoughts wandered as his eyes did around the house. Each nook and cranny had a storied history no doubt. Jen had been lucky to snag someone with cash — even if it was short-lived. She wasn't so lucky in the divorce, Carl pondered, if she got just the house and little in the way of other wealth.

That brought his thoughts onto the topic of Ms. Hwang-Xhi herself. She kept herself neatly-dressed, and groomed well for a person on the brink of financial ruin. How old must she have been when she met her ex-husband, how much of her young life did she commit to the black hole of failed marriage?

Early twenties? Yes, that seemed so. Young...Carl was sure she'd been something of a trophy to her ex-husband. Her youthful appearance having diminished after several years of stress and scrounging. That wasn't to say she was no longer pretty, just more world-weary.

She returned with tea, perfumed as was traditional in Eastern countries. Carl accepted the drink and took a tentative sip, the strong taste kicking his senses into overdrive. Whoa, this stuff's strong.

Watching him grimace she smiled. “Not to your liking Mr Rewed...Redwev... cough, excuse me. Red-Weath-Er." she slowly sounded out each syllable of Carl's name.

“Listen, if you need me to get someone, a translator I will—"

“No no, it's okay. I'm better at listening than speaking in Inglish."

“You sure?"

“Yes, sure. It is tricky for me to pro...prun...pronounce some words. That is all."

“I can see that," Carl joked, hoping he hadn't insulted his host.

Picking up on his apprehension, she added: “I speak much better Hispani and Alleman, Inglish is my fourth language."

“Impressive." Taken aback by her multilingualism, he took the time to study her expression. Stiff, with a hint of worry. For all her apparent talents she was lacking when it came to Carl's skill at reading a person's face. There it is! He'd found it. There was fire inside, a burning intensity. This girl's a fighter.

“I think I may have gotten the wrong impression Ms. Hwang-Xhi." I had you down as a gold-digger, he caught himself thinking, but you're clearly not some dumb broad are you?

“No apology ness...ness...needed, Mr. Redweather."

“Then it's safe to say we can talk plainly..."

He took another sip of tea. “The company I work for wants to buy this place, and all the land surrounding it. As you're the sole owner, the decision to sell is yours and yours alone. I can organise payment soon if you so desire."

“Not yet. We talk more."

“Okay then."

“You owe me that much for peeping (peeping? that's the word yes?) into my life."

Carl was ready to answer her questions. “Who you work for. What do they do?"

“My company. Uhh. Bovinex is an 'agri-genetics' firm. We...um...we — that is to say, the department I work for — investigate and test new methods of gene modification, and apply the successful ones to our agricultural business."

“Ah, like plants and animals. Changing them."

“In a way yes."

“Tell me more."

“I'm afraid I can't, not really. The sort of work we do is a company secret."

“Top secret?" she laughed, “like a spy movie?"

“Again...not quite."

“You are not saying much. How am I to trust you if you don't say much?"

“I'd risk losing my job, and jeopardising the lives of the people I work with."

“That is an excuse. You said plenty about me. Who I was with. Does that not jap...jepo...you know what I mean..."

“And I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to upset you. I was trying a...negotiating tactic." Carl spent a moment thinking. “All I can say is: it's something no-one else in the world can do, or is doing."

“Oooh, spooky!" Jen's amusement helped fix the tone of the conversation, lightening their moods.

“All I can do, right now, is make an offer to buy."

“Fine." Jen retrieved a pair of reading glasses from her cabinet. “Let's see what you got."

Carl handed over his papers. “You read well?"

“Well enough," she replied, “you shut up well?"

He shrugged. “I don't normally do this part. I had a colleague, well...boss who did. She's indisposed." Imagine if I told her what Lacey does now.

“But yes. I shut up well enough," he continued.

He waited awhile as she read.

“The, uh, exact structure of payment can be discussed, if you want. What I have there is a series of transactions across three months. I could do a lump sum if you—"

She shushed him. “A moment please. Still reading."

A sinking feeling gnawed at her stomach. The kind one gets before the steep drop on a roller-coaster. The amount stated was in the ballpark of 260,000 dollars. Which concerned her. This isn't enough. Trying to hide her upset from Carl as her mind fell over itself, her face blanked. This isn't enough!

“Are you okay?" Carl asked, noticing the change in her face.

Jen breathed deeply. Maybe this stranger wasn't her salvation. Better tell him. “It's half what I need."

Damn, Carl muttered, you're worse off than I thought. Five hundred grand in the hole. He failed to notice the long period where he didn't speak aloud until too late, when he came to Jen glowered at him.

“You think this is time to ignore me?"

“No-no-no! I...that's what we can spare to buy your house." Shit, I'm losing her. I thought we had this in the bag! What'll I tell the others, hmm? 'Sorry Ms. Cain, I know you're a big strong cow that can crush me like and insect if you're so inclined, but I screwed up because all that effort you went through to get more funding ain't enough. There won't be room to keep Sandra's calves out of sight and out of trouble. Oh well, live and let live?'

Honestly...I need something at least...

“Mr. Redweather," she nailed pronouncing his name this time, “I cannot make all my payments with that money."

“That's all we got. I'm afraid."

“Then our talk is done. Thank you, but I will have to find another."

Shit! She wants another buyer. We need that land.

His mind was running a mile a minute, thinking of a way to solve this problem. The irony that he was now the one with a money problem was lost on the man. All available brain-power was needed to counter Jen's refusal.

Wait! Can I? Should I? A plan emerged. Risky, but what plan hasn't been risky these past months?

“Please wait Ms. Hwang-Xhi. There's more we can talk about."

“I am listening."

“Don't write us off just yet. I'm not authorised to raise the price on my lonesome, but if you can't find anyone else..."

He wrote a phone number on the back of a card, and passed it over the table to her.

“The woman whose number I gave you is our manager. She handles all the finances. Her name is Lacey Cain. Miss, not Missus." Well, I suppose she is kinda married now...

“What I want you to do is this: if you can't find someone willing to pay what you need. Call us, call her. The sooner the better, but I understand if you want to spend time looking elsewhere."

“I do." She intended to keep searching for at least several months more. Carl had been her best choice yet, and she wasn't about to spurn him completely.

“You decide you absolutely, one-hundred-percent need more? We can give you more, but we trade," he tapped the side of his nose in a gesture of secrecy, “and what you do for us...is top secret."

“I will keep that in mind. For now I will just think about your price."

They said their goodbyes, Carl hoping he'd hear from her soon. Jen left all on her lonesome to mull over Carl's proposition.

* * *

“Will she sell?"

“Hard to say at this point. She didn't seem happy with what we could give."

“Wait and see I suppose."

Eric and Carl were standing in Lacey's office with her, debating the next step to take with Ms. Hwang-Xhi. Caution was the watch-word. They didn't want to press too much, or they risked scaring her away.

The only member of the Reimond herd not present was Sandra, who was having a lie down in her old bed. Her pregnancy was starting to show, a slight bump on her abdomen, announcing to the world the true beginning of a new species. Eric did not think it necessary to disturb her sleep. Things had been delicate between them ever since he hit Tommy.

“I wish we could spare more. The sooner we have it..."

Lacey and Carl chose not to mention it — Eric was in the room after all — but they both knew full well the reason they couldn't afford to pay double the price expected. Getting Tommy to hospital without raising suspicion that fateful day was a difficult task on its own, ensuring folks bought their story was a bigger hurdle.

The staff to keep quiet, local police to turn a blind eye and even a fucking bus driver to 'witness' the 'accident'. All that money down the drain. All because you couldn't control your anger. Your own son! She shot a fierce look at Eric, who saw but pretended not to. He knew what they were hinting at. He knew it was wrong, what he did.

Eric took it upon himself to break the silence: “We could be months, years, waiting for her to decide."

“I know."

“Can we wait that long?"

“We'll have to," Lacey said.

Carl hemmed and hawed. “I did suggest the idea of working for us."

“You mean..."

“Not necessarily, but if that's what it takes..."

“God-damn!"

“Mooh..."

“That's worst case scenario. Best case is she gives up and accepts our price. I didn't actually tell her what we really do though, kept it all under wraps so we're cool. Worry 'bout that when we need to."

They decided the best course of action was to wait it out, in hope she came around to their bid. Lacey left the office to continue her work elsewhere, leaving Carl and Eric together. Carl was about to leave himself, when Eric caught him.

“Hey hold up."

Eric gripped Carl's forearm tightly, causing the tired handyman to look back at him. His face wore a downcast look, a stern, neutral expression only barely concealing the hybrid's true feelings. Carl knew remorse when he saw it.

“Carl, how's Tommy?"

“He's good. Doing well."

“Listen...I've been thinking about...could..."

Eric stumbled over his words, his tongue knotted by the pain in his heart. Taking a moment to compose himself, he finally said what he needed to.

“...could you, if you can, please...please tell him...I'm sorry."

“Eric—"

“I'm sorry for what I did." Carl saw tears in his eyes. This had weighed on him heavily.

“I know Eric. But I don't know if Tommy will see it that way. Scars of that sort never fully heal y'know."

The huge bull sniffed, “I get it. I get it. The time's not right..."

“Sorry 'bout that. Didn't want to sound like I was striking down your apology...when he's ready, we can discuss this again."

“Thank you."

* * *

After a couple days Tommy was settled in to his temporary accommodations with his friend Nick. Time alone at last, to compose his thoughts, away from the farm, his parents, his old life. The spare room of Nick's house provided scant solace for Tommy, unfortunately. Though there was no cause for loneliness (he had his new host family for company after all), he still felt alone.

Nick was kind enough to avoid prying. He appreciated that. His friend was good at not invading others' privacy, or stepping on anyone's toes. Nick's parents were courteous as well. They made him feel more at home than he'd ever felt in a while.

Tommy focused on his schooling, first and foremost. He was soon nearing the last year of public education. What he decided to do with his life afterwards was entirely up to him, which both comforted and terrified the young adult. The best thing to do — he surmised — was to put his head down, and study well; put enough effort in to earn good grades, to increase his opportunities for the future.

The memory of the day his father struck him were as vivid as real-life when he first arrived here. The seconds before nothingness played out over and over again. Time was the key treatment. Slowly, but surely, the memories of what happened faded — first out of conscious knowledge, then subconscious — re-emerging on occasion, but diminished. It never hurt as bad as those early days, Tommy was glad to say.

If the need was ever felt he could always ring Carl, a patient ear for his problems; he had the man's phone number. He could also ring Lacey, but felt it was an awkward notion (given she was a hybrid and lived with his parents, bit too close for comfort). That can all be done later, when the time is right. Maybe, down the line, there could be reconciliation, but for now...

I'm setting my life straight.