The taste of blood filled Frankie’s mouth. Huddled in a corner of the closet were three boys, practically on top of each other. They varied in age, but shared the same eyes, dark skin, and dark hair. The littlest one looked like he might cry. The oldest looked like he might attack. And the middle one looked like he didn’t care what either of them did.
She slapped her hand across her mouth, her eyes frozen, fear and pity battling in her chest to the point of pain. The older one sneered with such fury she blinked. Before she could say a word, the little one sneezed.
“Bless you,” Frankie said automatically. The middle one arched a dark eyebrow and his lips quirked slightly. The oldest one, perhaps because Frankie had found her voice, pushed forward from his crouched position, putting the other two behind his body. His military-style haircut made the anger shining in his eyes that much more noticeable. She glanced down to be sure the nine-one was still on her phone.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice deeper than Frankie expected. She almost smiled at his bravado, but fear and mild curiosity held her back. She straightened her shoulders, but in sizing him up, she realized he would be taller than she was if he stood up.
“I’m the owner of this house. I think the better question is, who are you three?” Frankie stayed still and kept her face neutral, even when the youngest one peeked around his brother. His dark-skinned face was somewhat sallow but showed a softness the other two didn’t. Frankie hoped her voice sounded stern as she held their gazes. Show no fear.
“Have you guys been staying here?”
The oldest put his hand on his little brother’s face and pushed him behind his back.
“You’re real quick, ain’t you lady?”
“Dude. Don’t be an ass,” the middle kid muttered behind him. He leaned against the closet wall and pushed one of his thin dreadlocks behind his ear.
“We don’t say ass,” the youngest reminded him.
“No, you don’t say ass,” the middle replied.
“Shut up,” the oldest demanded. And they did.
She needed to call the police. Or social services. Someone. Jesus, she’d been worried about finding a cat. Biting the inside of her cheek, she took a small step forward.
“Stop fighting. Why are you in my closet?” They looked at Frankie then at each other. The little one started a coughing fit. His little body shook. Middle put his hand on his shoulder, holding the boy against him and both boys watched him with more fear than they’d shown at Frankie finding them. They might not have manners, but they cared for their brother. His coughing eased up slightly as he attempted to clear his throat. Frankie hunched down but kept her distance, wanting to be on eye level with them.
“How long have you been here?”
Oldest eyed her and measured her up, and some of the ice in his eyes melted.
“Since before Aunt Beth died. She let us stay here,” he said, his eyes darting away. Frankie’s heart skipped a full beat and she stood. Who are these kids and how did Aunt Beth know them? Tears burned her eyes as wariness came back into the boy’s.
Her voice hardened. “How did you know my aunt?”
Had they been here when Beth died? Her heart beat in a slow, dull thud. They hadn’t been close, she and her aunt. In fact, the few times Aunt Beth had torn herself away from this house to visit Frankie’s family in the Hamptons, she’d been impossibly hard to please. Frankie had always thought her attitude was a way to cover the pain of losing the man she loved and not being able to have children. Or maybe Frankie just had a soft spot for the woman who had taken her and Dean in during the summer their parents couldn’t decide whether or not to divorce.
The oldest stood up, signaling to the others to do the same. “She let us stay here, okay? We don’t want no trouble. We’ll grab our stuff and go.”
The middle grabbed a bag he’d been sitting on and the older one helped the little guy zip a worn, too-large sweater that dwarfed his small frame.
“I asked you a question. How do you know Beth?”
“I answered your question. You deaf?”
Frankie arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. He glared at her, unmoving. Middle met her gaze.
“She did let us crash here. We met her at the soup kitchen that’s attached to the shelter where we stayed. Actually, Miles met her,” the middle one said, pointing to the youngest, “and Beth said we could come stay with her.”
“And then?” Had Beth just decided they could stay indefinitely?
“Then she died,” the oldest said. The anger in his voice crumpled Frankie’s, unbalancing her emotions.
They cared about Beth. Beth had cared about them. The woman wouldn’t send Christmas presents because of overpriced postage but she’d take in three strays. They could be lying to her, but she didn’t feel like they were. Their expressive faces hid nothing.
“Come out of the closet for God’s sake. And give me a minute to think,” Frankie said, backing up. The youngest sneezed again. Frankie looked at him and frowned. “Do you have a fever? Miles…that’s your name?”
“He’s fine,” oldest snarled. Frankie stepped forward, intending to feel the boy’s forehead but the brother automatically shielded Miles, who flinched and stepped back.
“I was just going to feel his forehead,” Frankie said, her voice barely audible.
“He’s fine.” The middle put his hand on Miles’s shoulder.
Twenty minutes ago, Frankie had thought figuring out dinner was going to be a tough decision. Now, it seemed a whole lot easier than learning about the three kids in front of her.
“What are your names?” She kept her eyes on Miles and her voice clipped.
“What’s it to you?”
She shook her head and used his brother’s words. “Dude, don’t be an ass.” She was sure she saw the middle one smile.
“I’m Travis. This is Carter,” middle said, earning a glare from Carter. “Look lady, we’ll just go and then you got no trouble. We didn’t take nothing.” Miles sneezed again several times in a row. Frankie sighed.
“Go on into the living room. Miles, go get yourself some toilet paper out of the bathroom. I haven’t bought any Kleenex,” Frankie instructed.
Miles looked at Travis, who nodded. The other two followed after him but Carter kept glancing over his shoulder at Frankie. The all waited in a silent train while Miles blew his nose and washed his hands, then she ushered them into the living room. Travis sat on one of the sagging couch cushions with Miles glued to his side. She walked into the kitchen, dug around in her purse, and found her stash of Tylenol. She grabbed a bottle of water from one of her bags and walked back into the living room. Carter immediately cut off whatever he’d been saying to his brothers. Frankie kneeled in front of Miles.
“Can I touch your forehead to see if you have a fever?”
He nodded. His face was hot to the touch and she was nobody’s mother but she figured Tylenol could only help. She passed it to him.
“Don’t touch that,” Travis said to Miles, blocking her hand.
“Travis. It’s Tylenol. He has a fever. If I was going to drug one of you, it’d be Carter just to get the scowl off of his face.”
Carter glared at her but Travis smiled, considered her, looked at the pill, which was clearly marked with a trademark T, and told Miles it was okay.
“I’m Frankie. Beth was my aunt, and this house is mine now. You need to get some sleep and more importantly, I need some sleep.” What she really needed now was time to think.
“You’re gonna let us stay?” Carter asked, his eyes wide.
“For tonight. I’m trusting you guys aren’t going to do anything. Mostly because your brother is sick,” she said, saying a silent prayer that she wasn’t an utter fool. She grabbed her car keys from her purse and clutched them in her hand a moment. Leave them all in her house while she ran out to get her bedding or send the oldest one? Biting her lip, she decided Carter wouldn’t do anything if his brothers were inside. With a sigh, she handed the keys to Carter. “I have some blankets in the car. Grab them. Looks like you guys are already set up in the spare room so you can sleep there. Stay in there until you’re sure I’m up and moving around in the morning. Clear?”
“You gonna lock it?” Travis asked.
Frankie tilted her head. “Did Beth lock it?”
“No! Ain’t no reason to lock us in,” Carter growled.
“Prove it. Go onto bed and stay put.” She pursed her lips together and looked at Miles. “Unless your brother gets any warmer. Then, knock on my door and wake me up.” Kids or not, she’d sure as hell be locking her own bedroom door.
The three of them studied her with a mixture of surprise and wariness. Miles leaned against Travis, his head resting on his brother’s arm. He couldn’t be much more than seven or eight. Carter nodded to them and they went back to the bedroom. He slipped out of the house and came back a moment later with the blankets. Neither of them said a word as he handed her the keys but his eyes softened and his mouth twitched like he wanted to say something.
When he walked away and she heard the door shut, she let out a harsh, rattling breath. With her hand to her chest, she felt her pulse galloping like a racehorse. Moving quickly, she went to the kitchen, grabbed one of the retro dining chairs, and took it to her bedroom with her. She unpacked her charger and put her phone on the nightstand then locked the bedroom door and pushed the chair underneath the knob. Looking around the room, she wondered who had taken Beth’s bed. Perhaps they had been in better shape than the rest of her retro furniture. Frankie rolled her shoulders and decided it didn’t matter. She got her air mattress sleep-ready, using the task to smooth out her uneven breathing. If only I’d found a cat.