Page 9 of Unshakable

Toula called in sickto work the next day. The encounter with Henri Gregory left ugly emotional residue clinging to her spirit. Bad memories of bad times. She’d told him enough about her family legacy while holding back other important details.

Trust came hard for her.

Today, she wanted to spend time with the girls and check Henri Gregory out as far as she could. Without alerting her daughter.

She didn’t intend to fall hard and fast for him although that ship might have already sailed. Not based on his looks or his charm, though those traits were amplified. She wanted to learn all she could about him. Maybe what she found could justify how she felt.

The three children usually came downstairs one by one, at different times. Alease first, since she was in public school. Toula liked spending time with the girl alone because the other two demanded vast attention and energy.

Always on time, Alease came down for breakfast at seven ‘o clock, on the dot, dressed and carrying her school backpack. “Good morning, Mama Toula.”

Alease turned from making her lunch and smiled. “Good morning, Alease. How do you feel this morning?”

“I’m good.” The child shrugged and sat down to her usual bowl of heart-healthy cereal. Spoon in hand she asked, “Was someone here last night?”

The moment of truth arrived before Toula anticipated. Her mouth went dry as she considered whether to lie a lot, a little bit, or not at all.

A little lie. “Yes, love. Someone was traveling through and got lost. He stopped to ask for directions, and we talked for a little bit.”

Alease frowned, accepting the answer. Of the three, Alease would be the one to mention a visitor to her mother, which Toula needed to avoid as long as possible.

She changed the subject in a flash. “Don’t you have your math test today?”

“Yes, I’m completely ready,” she replied, a satisfied smile on her sweet face. “I don’t know when I’ll find out how I did, though.”

“You’ll know as soon as you finish, in your heart.” The intellect in this child astounded and frightened Toula. She’d already skipped a grade. “Here’s your lunch.”

“Thank you.” She finished up her cereal and Toula rinsed the bowl. “Are you staying home today? You aren’t dressed for work yet.”

“You’re quite observant. Yes, I’m staying home today.” Toula praised Alease, if only to distance herself from any questions about why she’d stay home. “You’re right on time for the bus, and I’ll be here when you get home. I want to hear all about your test.”

Alease hopped from her chair, grabbed her lunch, and gave her grandmother a quick peck on the cheek. “I have orchestra practice after school and Liz’s mom is bringing me home when we’re finished, remember?”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Toula ushered her overachieving eldest granddaughter out the door. “Fried chicken for dinner.”

Alease didn’t wave or look back as she headed down the lane toward the bus stop at the corner of their property. She never looked back, didn’t have an ounce of sentimentality in her sturdy bones.

Since the other two girls wouldn’t be up for another hour, Toula took a seat at her computer desk and opened her laptop. She barely knew how to use the thing. Thankfully, all she needed to do was search the internet.

A man like Henri Gregory might leave his mark on the world, even if he tried not to. She entered his name into the search bar and held her breath.

Right away, results loaded onto the screen.

Toula scanned the list, mostly philanthropic mentions in and around Miami. Photos showed him much as he appeared in her kitchen last night. Tall, occasionally bearded, with a shock of dark, straight hair and a strong Roman nose. His non-profit assisted homeless women and children.

A rare photo with an unnamed woman on his arm.

No photos with his son.

On a whim, Toula entered Michael’s name into the search bar. No results, as if he didn’t exist.

Why did these two men, similar in calling and purpose, choose to live such different lifestyles?

One seen, one unseen.

“Morning, Mama Toula,” a sleepy Chloe snuck up and surprised her.

Toula turned, immediately smoothing the girl’s wild blonde hair. “Morning, sweetheart. How are we this morning?”

Chloe blinked, then narrowed her eyes and Toula knew the child read her emotions to answer the question. “We’re good.”

“We sure are.” She closed the laptop and swiveled to take Chloe by the hand, the only person the child allowed to touch her. “Are we hungry?”

“I always am,” the little girl retorted with an eye roll.

“Well, let’s get you some breakfast.”

Toula spent much of her time tutoring Chloe, the middle girl, who’s empathy showed itself at birth, at least to her grandmother. The little girl needed to know how to control the unending flow of emotion, how to process and use what she needed, and discard the rest.

How to keep herself safe, both from unintended intrusions and those who meant her harm. How to navigate a world bent on beating her down before she knew how powerful she really was.

Before she understood who would eventually come for her.

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