Abigail only packed a pair of suitcases. She and Oliver had few clothes that would suit summertime in New Jersey, so she’d given their other belongings to the clan. The bulk of her possessions were weapons and bottles of healing tonics.
The first thing she did was haul the old metal trunk into her father’s office and tuck it away behind the desk. There were things inside of the old hulking case that were best left hidden. Next, she lifted Oliver out of the backseat of the van and carried him inside.
He’d have her old room, she’d already decided. He’d like it in there. It had a great view. Memories of life before she discovered her true nature threatened to flood her mind, but Ollie’s tired voice held them at bay.
“Mom, this room is pink.”
“I know. It’s temporary.”
“This sucks, Mom. I want to go back to Grampa Keo.”
“Where’d you hear that word?”
“Come on, Mom. I wanna go home,” his tiny whine tugged at her heart. She squeezed him gently to her chest and kissed his soft hair.
“I know you feel that way now, sweetheart, but this is our home. Remember what Keo said?”
“Yes. He said to make the best of it and that you had work to do here. But what if you get hurt? What if-”
“I’m going to be fine, and so are you. You’ll see, Ollie, we’re gonna have a real life here. Tomorrow you’re going to that camp we looked at on the plane. It’s the same one I went to. I know you’re just gonna love it.”
“I bet they don’t let you hunt with real bows and arrows like Grampa Keo taught me!”
“No, I bet they don’t. I know it’s scary, but it’s for the best, Ollie.”
“What if they don’t like me?” His small voice was so young. He was so well-spoken and so bright that Abigail sometimes forgot he was only nine. A boy. A child. Her child, who’d grown up in the wilds of Alaska with a tribe of warriors of which he would one day join in the ranks.
She pulled the large white sheet off the bed and dropped it to the floor. She held him in one arm while she dropped the large blanket, she’d wrapped him in over the mattress and carefully laid him down.
Ollie looked so small lying there on his side. She crept into bed with him and turned him so that he faced her, taking the other half of the blanket and wrapping him up the way he liked it. Like a taco.
Dark brown eyes stared up at her. They were so much like the father he’d never met. Oliver resembled Mason in so many ways, the curve of his brow, the fullness of his lips, but he had his mother’s ebony hair as opposed to Mason’s shaggy brown locks.
“They’re gonna love you, Ollie, but not as much as I do.” He smiled and turned around, giving her his back.
“Rub please,” he demanded. Abigail laughed and dutifully began rubbing his back. She pushed all worry to the back of her mind. Her son was a fighter. He’d be fine, he’d make friends, she just knew it.
The next day, Abigail drove Ollie to the Coastal Summer Camp for Kids. He’d be on the bus route from now on, but she wanted to bring him there the first day. It gave her a chance to scout out the area.
Now a trained warrior, Abigail swept the park and the community building where the kids would retreat for bathroom breaks and lunch. Once she was finished and she determined it was safe for her son, she waved goodbye and left him in the hands of the young man and woman who ran the camp.
“Ollie will be on the bus this afternoon Ms. Vicente! Thank you for bringing him today!”
She waved and got in the van. She had some errands to run in town. Abigail was determined to get the bulk of her housework finished before he got home.
She stopped at the hardware store and bought everything she needed for a seriously overdue spring cleaning. Including some paint. Next stop was the new Walmart that went up right outside of Maccon City. There, she purchased some cheap summer clothing for the two of them, and new bedding for Oliver.
“No more pink walls,” she whispered as she lugged her purchases inside.
She spent the first hour in the kitchen. Most everything in the house was closed away in cardboard boxes lining the basement, but everything else needed serious cleaning. The cabinets, the floors and yes, the windows, all needed to be scrubbed. Twice. It was a good thing she worked hard and fast.
She’d made sure to paint the walls of Oliver’s bedroom a bright green, his favorite color, before she did anything else. Afterwards, she headed down to begin the real work. By the time, she was finished washing and polishing the first floor, three hours had gone by.
She’d hauled six industrial sized garbage bags out to the curb. A lot of the furniture was made of high quality, sturdy wood and it could be cleaned and repaired if needed, but anything fabric was so stale and worn that she’d decided in the beginning to simply throw it away. That meant things like linens, curtains, cushions, pillows, and sheets. Abigail was a sweaty, dirty mess after it all, but she’d never felt so invigorated.
“This is our home now, buddy,” she said as she hung a picture of baby Oliver, next to one of her at the same age in the living room.
She’d thrown open every door and window in the place to stop herself from gagging. Her supernatural senses made it difficult to use such harsh cleaning chemicals, but she’d had no choice. It had been too long since the place had a thorough cleaning.
The powerful smells of paint, bleach, glass cleaner, and lemon furniture polish were strong in the air and on her clothes and skin, but she wasn’t turning on the central air conditioner until she had a chance to change the filter. That was next.
She couldn’t wait to see the look on Ollie’s face when he saw the changes to his bedroom. She took down everything of hers and carted it off to the attic before she’d painted. She’d just changed the bedding, curtains, and arranged his personal things, along with his new clothes and toys on the sparkling white shelves.
She opened his window wide before heading to the attic. Her mind filled with the bittersweet memory of the night she’d shimmied down to him. She’d never regret it. That was the night Oliver had been conceived. She shook her head and went to get the new filter for the AC.
She couldn’t believe she just spent over six hundred dollars in one day. Her entire savings. She’d have to get a job soon. She had no idea how much cash she’d actually inherited from her father. She figured the house and whatever he made from the sale of his business.
There was bound to be some money, she remembered having fine clothes and going to private schools her entire life. Not that she cared about the money, only insofar as it would benefit Ollie. Her father may have hated what she was, but he was a traditional sort of man. He would leave his money and estate to his only child. She was sure of it.
Either way she was determined to be content with her lot as she walked outside with the new filter in her hands. Abigail turned at the sound of a motor. A car was coming down the path to her house. It was loud and fast.
How could anyone know she was home yet? And who did she know who drove a flashy red sports car?