
The Violinist and the Ballerina

Angelin Sydney

Published by Massachusetts Books, 2017.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE VIOLINIST AND THE BALLERINA

**First edition. April 18, 2017.**

Copyright (C) 2017 Angelin Sydney.

ISBN: 978-1386099574

Written by Angelin Sydney.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Also by Angelin Sydney

Mysterious Men Series

The Man in the Shadows

Oh, the Complications

Loving Faith and Hope

Geeks in Love

The Cameron Series

Lifesaver in a Bikini

Return to Cameron Country

Cameron of the Skies

Cameron of the Seas

Standalone

Courting Pippa

When Angels Dare

Three Men, Little Alvin, and a Tonka Truck

Mosaic

The Violinist and the Ballerina

The Cameron Brothers Box Set

Watch for more at Angelin Sydney's site.

# Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Angelin Sydney

The Violinist and the Ballerina

1: Instant Recognition

2: The Past Haunts the Present

3: Cathy's Story

4: A Chance to Say Sorry

5: A New Beginning

6: Dancing with Violin

7: Last Straw

8: Defiance

9: Love Broke Through

10: A Plea for Compassion

11: The Recital

A Gentle Plea

Bonus Preview: Mosaic

Prologue

1: It Started with Hello

2: Starting Over

3: Lovers and Friends

4: Cry of the Heart

Bonus Preview

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Further Reading: Geeks in Love

About the Author

Timothy Isaiah Gabriel Tan-Miller

(5 January 1996 - 19 Mar 2011)

You were taken before you knew what romantic love was,

but I know

you are in Heaven dancing with Angels

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# 1: Instant Recognition

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JONAH PUT ON A WHITE VALENTINO chemise shirt and stone-washed blue Levi jeans and teamed them with a pair of tan-coloured Hugo boss loafers. A black leather jacket and a Ray-ban wraparound sunshade completed the ensemble. After checking himself in the mirror, he reckoned, he looked fine.

The classy and expensive outfit was from his previous life as a scion of multi-millionaires, before his incarnation as an independent-living music student on a limited budget. He had contemplated donating his whole wardrobe to a charity shop as he felt ridiculously overdressed in them now. The appeal of high fashion had waned, probably because he had grown up or grown out of them; probably both. In the end, he kept them and wore them occasionally as he saw fit but with genuine disinterest.

The change in him had not just been skin-deep.

Recently, a had server tripped and accidentally spilt coffee on him while dressed in his Armani suit. The terrified look on her face was not so much horrified that she might have scalded him, no! In a state of hysteria, she kept repeating that she couldn't possibly afford the laundry bill. Or, God forbid, have the suit replaced.

He, on the other hand, merely shrugged his shoulders, removed the stained jacket, and told the mortified girl not to worry about it. In his younger days, he would have gone ballistic and asked, sarcastically, 'Do you know how much this cost, stupid?'

The changes in him came when he left the mansion he grew up in, in Sydney's exclusive suburb of Mosman, to pursue his passion for music against the wishes of his parents, William and Jolene Chua.

His parents were born in China and were studying in Australia when the Tian An Men protests of 1989 erupted. The Hawke Government granted them the right to stay in the country due to the unrest. They had been young and idealistic back then. From the vantage point of someone on the outside looking in, they were non-traditionalists. They learned English and conducted themselves as Australians, so it didn't take long before they were making a name for themselves in their chosen field of real estate development.

Unfortunately for Jonah, it turned out that William and Jolene were only non-traditionalists in conducting business, but when it came to family matters, they were as steeped in tradition as their relatives back in China. As far as they were concerned, he, being their only son and therefore the principal beneficiary of their wealth, was obligated to pursue an education in business.

Jonah, however, had other ideas.

In the beginning, they tried gentle persuasion; when that didn't work, bribery. When that, too, failed, they threatened to cut off his generous allowance.

It came to a head when instead of enrolling at the University of New South Wales for a business degree, he took up an offer to study violin at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music.

It had been an easy decision to make. He could not persuade himself to study business and accounting. He was so depressed by the mere thought of working on numbers that it had driven him to thoughts of suicide. Dead Poet's Society was an iconic film he could relate to.

All he had ever wanted to pursue was music; playing the violin was his passion. So, when he was offered part-scholarship by the Conservatorium his resolve was strengthened.

In retaliation, his parents made good with their threat. They cut off his allowance. As the arguments became more frequent and intense--and the verbal barrage of angry words became too much to bear and vases became missiles--he was forced to leave.

*

RIGHT NOW, HE WAS ON his merry way to meet his baby sister for a date. It had been a while since he had taken her to a film. Money was tight. Even a simple movie date could cost a hundred dollars easy. Fifty, if they limited themselves to small bags of popcorn and regular-sized drinks.

He was locking up his studio apartment when Sophie, his next-door neighbour, saw him and commented how nicely he cleaned up.

'Goin' on a date?' she inquired. The widowed long-term resident of the building had always been forward with her questions. She followed this up with, 'Knock her off her feet.'

He flashed her a grin and said, 'It's a date with my baby sister. She'll knock me off my feet.' He waved goodbye to her before she could carry on with one of those one-sided conversations that centred mostly on her designer lapdog.

Instead of catching the elevator to the lobby, he ran down the stairs from the top floor. It wasn't too much of an effort since the 1930's art deco Potts Point apartment building on St. Neot Avenue only had three storeys and sixteen apartments in total.

He checked the time; he was running a little late. Lucky for him he didn't have to commute. His red Mazda Coupe was handily parked in a lock-up garage just behind the building. The two-year-old car was a high school graduation gift, back when he was the adored son of Australian-Chinese tycoons. He could not afford to buy one now, not even second-hand, not on his meagre salary as a cafe assistant manager while he honed his craft as a violinist; thankfully, he was able to supplement his income with occasional paid gigs playing at engagement and wedding parties.

Even his apartment was an eighteenth-year gift. Without it, he would have had to bunk down with friends in a tiny one-bedroom flat, taking turns to sleep on a bed.

*

HIS DESTINATION WAS his former neck of the woods, the leafy enclave of Mosman in Sydney's lower North Shore where Joanna was, at that precise moment, attending ballet training.

While crossing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, going northbound, he couldn't help but reminisce. He spent his boyhood in Mosman. It had been a pleasant childhood except for the constant pressure to achieve academic perfection.

He once heard a joke about a Chinese boy, it went like this: "Mum, I got 97% in maths".

The mother's response was, "What happened to the other three?"

Except, in his case, it wasn't a joke.

The last year of high school was a particularly painful time in his life. The pressure to achieve an outstanding score for his Higher School Certificate was intense. The way he handled it was to play the violin to take his mind off the academic burden. His Paganini violin saved his sanity and his life. Every time he played it he was transported to a magical place where his spirit could soar.

But then Jolene would come to his room, yelling in Chinese, 'You should be studying, not playing with that bloody instrument! Your cousin scored 99%; how can you achieve the same playing with that thing?'

He explained, over and over, that he needed to play to keep himself from exploding.

'I'm going bonkers,' he said. 'Just leave me alone.'

The first time he mentioned to them that he wanted to be a violinist, they went berserk.

'You want to be a what?! A starving musician!'

He told them his dream was not to play for a band, but for a world-class orchestra, and that he could get paid reasonably well. He wouldn't be starving if they helped him achieve his dream. That he was talented enough to audition for entry into the Conservatorium.

'And, of course, I'd want to become a soloist.'

William told him, in no uncertain terms, 'You're dreaming if you think it's going to happen.'

Highly pessimistic, his mother said, 'We didn't send you to study at Redlands just so you'd end up a busker.'

They also never failed to remind him that his tuition fees alone at this prestigious school, from K to Year 12, had been well over two hundred thousand dollars.

He always indignantly countered with, 'I didn't ask to study there.'

*

SOON, HE WAS PULLING into the car park of a suburban shopping mall.

He walked the rest of the way to the ballet school. As the big brother, he didn't approve of his eight-year-old sister having to attend accelerated classes and then being made to sit through more tutorials at the end of school to be "best in class." On top of that, there were extra-curricular activities on weekends and ballet lessons once a week. It was inhumane to say the least.

At the dance studio, Jo was all alone. She was sitting on top of her backpack in the middle of the room looking adorable in pink leotard and tights. All her classmates had been picked up, leaving her last. He felt guilty; he made a sad face at her when she saw him.

She broke into a silly grin.

She grabbed her school bag that seemingly weighed more than she did, and in the other hand, a cello case. He met her half-way. She dropped everything again and jumped up on him excitedly.

'Koko.'

She called him by an affectionate name that meant big brother in Mandarin. He twirled her around in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

'Meme,' he said, which was little sister in the same language.

They hadn't seen each other for a month, not due to any neglect on his part but because he had been busy getting himself settled in his studio. He was, however, determined that their separation would be temporary. He had decided to sell his share portfolio so he could rent a two-bedroom flat in the City. That way, Jo and her nanny could stay over every so often. In turn, he'd lease out his studio.

'What movie are we goin' to see, Koko?' She was climbing into the back-passenger seat. Jonah didn't permit her to sit in the front because his car was fitted with a passenger-side airbag, which when deployed could do to a child of small stature more harm than good.

'Your choice,' he said.

He waited until she had strapped herself in with the seatbelt before engaging the Mazda's engine.

'Koko, you should have come earlier so you could have met my ballet teacher. For your information, she's very beautiful and very nice.'

'Okay, next time.'

'We have two teachers. The other is Miss Sue; she has the personality of a shoe.'

Jonah laughed out loud. His sister was hysterical in more ways than one. She didn't know what was so funny and asked for an explanation.

'Nothing, you're so cute. Personality of a shoe? Whoever thinks of that?' he said, still laughing.

He glanced at her through the rear-view mirror and saw how tired she looked. It had been a big day for her. She was quiet now, resting.

Shortly, he felt a push from behind; Jo was stretching her feet.

Stopped at the lights, he thought that it was a blessing that she delighted in studying, or so it seemed to him. She was nerdy but in a cool way. Other kids might have rebelled, but not little Jo. Yet, deep inside, he sensed that at least partly, she worked so hard to earn their father's affection and their mother's approval.

She came into the world already considered a dismal failure because she was a girl. She was meant to be the insurance son, the spare. The second-in-line should the first born turn out to be a disappointment or should anything, God forbid, happen to Jonah Chua.

He saw their father walk out of the hospital suite to attend to business upon seeing the baby girl, leaving their mother in such a state of sadness. In turn, their mother rejected Joanne for she was a source of such shame. She couldn't produce a second heir. It was too much to bear since they already had two older daughters.

So, Joanne was left in the care of a Chinese nanny who thought the world of her and was doted on by her big brother.

On reflection, he had not seen his dad give the little one any affection. At least, nothing overt, unless one considered getting high-priced gifts as declarations of love. He thought grimly that if he had not seen it, then Joanna had probably not felt it.

'There's the Orpheum,' he said.

Jo sat up straighter, and her eyes lit up. She liked coming to this art deco cinema which was first opened in 1935. In her humble opinion, it was the best movie house ever.

He found parking quickly, which was a big deal on a Friday night.

First, they had to eat dinner. Because he was on a strict budget, he couldn't afford to splurge on her. Fortunately, they both loved Japanese food, so they got a bento box for him and a sushi roll for her from a sushi-to-go shop. They ate on the bonnet of his car, watching traffic go by. Jo didn't seem to mind that this was the extent of her treat.

After dinner, they walked a short distance along Military Road to the Orpheum. They read the list of the movies on offer, Beauty and the Beast and The Lego Batman Movie were both listed.

'Which one?' he asked.

Before Jo could answer, a pleasant-sounding voice offered a suggestion, 'Beauty and the Beast.'

Jo turned around and exclaimed gleefully, 'Miss Cathy, what are you doing here?'

She hugged the petite woman around the waist and said, 'Miss Cathy, this is my brother Jonah.'

Turning to her brother, she said, 'This is my ballet teacher.'

The instant their eyes met Cathy's well-constructed world almost fell apart.

Oh, no.

She recognised him instantly, though she doubted he did.

How long had it been? Eight years? Involuntarily, her blue eyes moistened. How is it that after so many years I still feel the pain?

He was oblivious to her inner turmoil. Instead, he was attracted to her misty blue eyes. They glistened as they caught the reflection of neon lights making them appear like sapphires on fire.

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# 2: The Past Haunts the Present

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HE HEARD JO'S VOICE.

'Jonah, it's Miss Cathy,' she said by way of introduction.

'Nice to meet you,' he said as he extended a hand towards the beautiful ballet teacher.

A lump swelled in her throat, but she shook his hand anyway. She then smiled down at the young girl she adored, 'I've got to go. See you in class next Friday.'

'Nice to meet you, too,' she said politely to Jonah without directly looking to his eyes.

The way she avoided his gaze gave him a feeling this wasn't the first time they had met but he couldn't put a finger on when or where.

When she glided away, the penny dropped. Suddenly, he was reminded who she was. Jonah flipped.

Shit, shit, shit. This is seriously bad.

He came to his senses when Jo asked, 'Isn't she the most beautiful woman in the world?'

'Yes, she's absolutely lovely,' he whispered thoughtfully. 'Do you mind if we just watch a DVD at home?'

'I kinda like that. What's on offer?'

He raised both eyebrows.

'I've got some anime.'

'Good 'oh.'

Jo skipped ahead. Then, she stopped in her tracks as she remembered something.

'First we must get popcorn and Slurpee to take home.'

They drove in silence. Exhausted, Jo was asleep by the time they reached his place even though it wasn't too far. Potts Point is just across the Harbour Bridge. He checked the time on his dash, seven-p.m. He called Jo's nanny to let her know that the young one would stay the night with him.

The nanny told him to let Jo keep her tights on or she would wake up in the middle of the night complaining of cold feet.

I bet Mama and Papa didn't know that about her.

He carried her up to his flat and settled her on the couch. She fitted snugly on it. He removed her shoes then covered her with a quilt. She looked angelic in her sleep, pity their mum and dad appeared not to know.

Jonah sat on the floor. In the quietness of his flat, he felt an overwhelming sense of deep regret as he thought of Cathy.

Miss Cathy, he had realised, was the same Cathy Goodes he had taunted, tormented, and relentlessly bullied for over two years until she moved to a different school in Year Six. Those years of being high and mighty, and cruel, had haunted him for years. Now the reality of it had come back to ratchet up the guilt one more notch.

*

MEANWHILE, IN HER BEDROOM, in an apartment she shared with three other people, Cathy was once again being confronted by her past. The ugly head of childhood bullying was rearing again, threatening to undo the hard work she had done on herself.

It had taken years to get this far. If she wasn't careful, all her efforts at recovery could be undone. She had, finally, after years of therapy, gained a measure of victory over anorexia and bulimia. She couldn't let them take her in their grips again. Never again--it had been such a hard-fought battle.

But at the first sight of her past tormentor, she felt nauseous.

She had won many battles ... but she was yet to win the war.

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# 3: Cathy's Story

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SHE WAS THE NEW GIRL IN SCHOOL.

She enrolled mid-way into Year Three. Within days, she became the brunt of the children's teasing. She had been a little roly-poly as a kid.

'Fatty Cathy. Fatty Cathy.'

They would chant over and over, but never within earshot of teachers who frowned upon such teasing. The school didn't tolerate bullying, unless it didn't know about it.

Almost daily, she had been reduced to tears. When one of the teachers had asked why, she told her, 'They're calling me Fatty Cathy.'

The bullies were spoken to, Jonah primarily, because he was the top dog and tormentor-in-chief. It got worse after that because then they called her 'Ratty Cathy,' instead. Only now, instead of calling her names aloud and risk getting caught by a teacher, they would whisper it as she passed them in the halls or stood alone in the playground at recess.

From then on, everything she did, no matter how mundane became a reason to tease her more.

If she fought back after frustration had built up, they called her 'Catty Cathy.'

If she got sick, they called her 'Shitty Cathy.'

Once she had to go to the toilet in the middle of lesson, immediately someone whispered, 'Potty Cathy' to her embarrassment.

The taunting was relentless and coordinated.

She was so affected by the teasing that she often could not bring herself to eat. But when she did, she had to gobble down everything in sight. She was comfort bingeing. After a day of torment at school, mostly instigated by Jonah, she would dry retch at the sink as soon as she got home. Countless nights she stood on the bathroom floor quaking on her feet, unable to stop shaking from tiredness, hunger, and anxiety.

On many night tears came in torrents, she would wet her blanket and pyjamas with them. She feared going to school the next day. But, every morning, with the will-power of a she-devil, she got out of bed and faced them all again.

*

SHE HEARD HER HOUSEMATES come home after a night out. She became aware that her hands were trembling, and her lips were quivering.

'Oh, my God,' she whispered.

Her past had caught her unawares.

She tried her hardest to suppress the emerging terror in her soul.

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# 4: A Chance to Say Sorry

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THE DAY OF RECKONING CAME-- it had to come, eventually.

Jonah went to the ballet school to speak to Miss Cathy. It had taken him weeks to find the courage since he began psyching himself up for this. The sooner he faced up to it the better it would be. There was no point prolonging the agony and delaying the inevitable.

A few days prior, he debated whether to set an appointment or to simply walk in unannounced. He decided it was best if he arranged a meeting, in fairness to her.

She'll need to prepare emotionally. I'm sure it wouldn't be easy coming face-to-face with her childhood tormentor.

He was met by Miss Sue, the head teacher, who escorted him to Cathy's office which doubled as the seamstress' workshop. Cathy wasn't in yet.

'Take a seat, Jonah. She'll be in soon.' She spoke politely and formally. 'Would you like tea or coffee while you wait?"

Miss Sue was very schoolmarmish for someone not yet middle aged. He remembered how Jo had described her. Personality of a shoe. Now, he understood. She didn't mean it in a bad way since Jo didn't have a nasty bone in her. She was just being literal.

'No, thank you,' he said with a disarming smile.

Miss Sue nodded ever so slightly.

Cathy's "office" was full of sequinned leotards, an indication that they were preparing for a recital. This was always a big event, for parents especially. When his older sisters, Josephine and Johanna, were young and studying ballet, he was made to go to their first recital. At first, he wasn't keen to see it, but as soon as that show started, he was mesmerised. There was something otherworldly about the way the kids moved, even the few boys in tights.

But most of all, the music affected him. He closed his eyes during the show, mentally playing the notes with his violin. His spirit escaped with the strain of notes so melodious he felt free and uplifted. At the end of the evening, he was glad he went and every recital after that was a source of anticipation and excitement for him as well as his sisters.

Against one wall, a large print of a golden Sydney sunrise hung and a blazing orange sunset opposite. On the window sill, a small ceramic pig beamed at him; he unconsciously smiled at it. He was still getting friendly with the ceramic pig when Cathy said, 'You're here to speak to me about Joanna?'

He turned around to find a pretty doll-like face looking at him. Soft fringe framed her face. The rest of her blond, waist-length, hair was arranged in a bun on top of her head, held together with chopsticks or what looked like eating utensils.

He was momentarily tongue-tied, encouraged only to speak when her eyebrows went up a notch.

'Yes, I'm here to talk about Jo.' He paused, trying to pluck up the courage to be truthful. 'Actually, no.'

He felt electricity between them, rendering the private meeting a little uncomfortable for him. He hoped she couldn't see through him as he internally squirmed, his composure gradually disintegrating.

'Tea or coffee?' She asked, as her blue eyes bored into his own soft brown versions.

Once again, her eyes misted. He wondered if they were always watery or if it was him and the memories of childhood cruelty which brought sadness to her eyes.

He looked down at his hands.

'No, thank you,' he said. The apprehension about the meeting kept his voice emotionless, yet shaky.

He waited a few seconds before clearing his throat.

'Cathy, I don't know how to say this without sounding insincere. I want to say I'm sorry for what I did to you when we were kids.'

She sighed deeply. For the longest time, she had hoped for this day. She had dreamt of him making amends and acknowledging the hurt he had caused her.

It was happening--this very minute--as she had hoped, but now she didn't know what to say, or what to do, despite having practiced her own cutting responses numerous times over the years.

He continued.

'I have no excuses for what I did. I bullied you for years, I was a total jackass. Saying sorry now, it's probably meaningless to you.'

To her surprise, his eyes glinted with tears which threatened to spill. He blinked them back forcibly.

'You're wrong. It means a lot to me. Hearing it from you, hearing you're sorry means a lot to me. When someone has hurt you so much ... sometimes the only real healing comes from that person saying he's sorry for what he did.'

She pulled a couple of tissues from the box of Kleenex sitting on a sewing machine and dabbed her eyes. The tears embarrassed her; to her credit, she was controlled considering the circumstances.

He, on the other hand felt discomfited. Like most men, he didn't know how to handle a crying woman.

'Can you forgive me?' he said. 'I know it won't come easy; it hasn't come easy for me to forgive myself; I'm still working on it.'

The conversation was getting intense. The four walls felt like they were about to cave in on them.

'Let's go for a walk,' she offered.

He agreed readily, glad to be getting out of the claustrophobic room.

They left the building to meander up the road towards the foreshore. Mosman's waterfront and bushland were gorgeous, even more so in the middle of the afternoon when it was deserted. It was serene and picturesque with only the boats on the water and the seagulls in the air for company

'When did you realise ...?' She didn't finish the sentence; they both knew what she meant.

'I realised how badly I treated you the first week of high school. Suddenly, I was no longer the leader. It was the best thing that ever happened to me in a way.

'In Year Seven, a kid called me an 'Asian faggot.' It wasn't long before it seems everyone was doing it. Then, I understood how you must have felt those three years I constantly taunted you. I called you "Fatty Cathy" every day and you didn't fight back. But me, I lost it. I broke the jaw of one of the lads.'

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her, 'You put up with it; why?'

She looked at him with understated defiance.

'I didn't put up with it because I was scared. There were days I'd have scratched your face or kicked you. I thought about it many times, but I was on a scholarship and I couldn't afford to lose it. Fighting you could mean not going to school. My Mum couldn't afford to send me anywhere else. She wanted a private school education for me.'

They carried on walking until they reached the wharf where they sat on a park bench looking out on the water.

It was now his turn to get teary.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through hell every day at school. For pulling your hair until you hurt. Mocking you until you cried. Calling you names. Cathy, I haven't forgotten. The memories haunted me for years. As a child, I got away with murder, no one told me off, ever. I was an emperor child. Everyone around me ... my parents, teachers, nanny, driver, all the adults who should have known better never once told me how hurtful I was. No one pulled me up for it. I was just cute to them. I didn't know any better until I got a dose of my own medicine.'

There was a long pause, then he added, almost in a whisper, 'It's not an excuse, Cathy. All I have is an explanation.'

He looked up at the sky, shame and guilt mixing inside him.

'Sorry is not enough,' he murmured.

To his surprise, Cathy reached over and touched him ever so slightly on his arm, 'I understand. I have no hate.'

'I don't understand why not,' he said. 'but I believe you. How can I make it up to you? Just being sorry isn't good enough. It just doesn't wash anymore.'

She smiled at him, 'I have an anti-bullying programme at the ballet school; you can help talk to the kids when you have the time.'

'I'll find the time,' he assured her.

'Anyway, I have to go back now. Time to teach my class.'

'I'll walk you back,' he said.

At the carpark, he asked, 'Cathy, I was wondering, can I see you again?'

She smiled, but it was non-committal. Seeing the look of misery on his face she tried to raise his hopes, 'Perhaps, in due time ...'

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# 5: A New Beginning

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THEIR FIRST DATE WAS IN AN ICE CREAM PARLOUR.

While eating sorbet, they got to talking about who learnt what from whom.

Jonah said, 'I have to tell you, it was Jennifer who taught me kindness. And, Joanna, too.'

'Jennifer?' she asked, expecting him to say, "my first girlfriend."

She was surprised when he said, 'My turtle.'

'Turtle?' She looked at him in a way that said stop pulling my leg.

'Seriously. She was given to me by my nanny when I was twelve, her parting gift to me. Jennifer is my Master Yoda. Have you ever noticed that turtles have intelligent eyes? I'm not sure how, but she teaches me patience and what love is. What about you?'

'My Mum,' she said. 'She's my hero. When I was ten, my dad left us. That's why I changed school. We had to move somewhere cheaper. That probably saved my life.'

He understood what she meant by that.

'I'm sorry,' he said again.

'That's in the past. We can't change that, but we can change direction.'

*

ONE FRIDAY, JONAH CAME to pick up Jo from Ballet School. He was talking to Cathy privately in a corner when Jo spotted them.

Jonah could see her in his peripheral vision sprinting towards them and knew that the centre of the Universe was about to shift in the next five seconds.

'Koko,' she said happily before hugging him. 'Hello, Miss Cathy. You two talk a lot; do you know each other well?'

Jonah had to explain that he and Cathy went to the same school for several years.

'Really?' Jo's curiosity had been piqued and she wanted to hear more.

Cathy sensed it. She held the child's chin and said, 'Jo, your brother is tired. Take him home.'

'Okay.' Then, she added, 'I like you very much, Miss Cathy.'

It made the ballet teacher smile.

*

CATHY WAS BY HERSELF IN THE DANCE STUDIO.

Everyone had left, even Sue, who was normally the last out of the door. For a moment, she sat like a lump of rock on the floor, drained. Slowly, she stretched out like a feline. Her arms straight above her head, her feet together and pointed. She imagined releasing the tension from her body, starting from the top of her head all the way to her toes. This exercise always helped ease the tightness in her being.

Her mind emptied of things she had to do, but one person remained. His name was Jonah.

She was being honest when she said she had forgiven him, but had she really forgotten?

Why was it that she forgave him so easily?

She reflected on that and decided it was because it was more of a strain to stay angry. It was far easier on herself not to be consumed with negativity. Besides, every time they were together, he had shown how he meant his apology.

And, her dad? Had she forgiven him, too?

She was transported back in time. Back to being that helpless nine-year-old girl walking home, letting herself into the house while her mother was still at work. All alone, she would sob her little heart out, occasionally wishing she were dead.

Her father had already walked out on them by then, but her mother had stubbornly persisted in keeping them in the suburb they were accustomed to. But, two years of living in penury was enough; they made a change. It saved her life. She wasn't lying about that. If she had to endure another year of bullying, she might not have been here at all.

From the Millionaire's Row that was Mosman, she and her mother moved to a more affordable suburb in the inner west. From Redlands School, she moved to a public school that had a strong arts program. At her new school, she discovered ballet. That was the silver lining in her world of black clouds.

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# 6: Dancing with Violin

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JONAH WENT HOME TO shower after a long day at the cafe. He had been on his feet for eight hours. He had never worked this hard in his life. There were moments he was tempted to swallow his pride and admit defeat. All he had to do was tell his parents he was sorry, and he has learned his lessons. Everything will be back to normal. He would be, once again, an emperor child.

Often, this thought came to him when he opened his pantry. The dismal inventory was limited to sardines, instant noodles, baked beans, crackers, and a bottle of chilli sauce. The temptation, however, never lasted long. A ledger of credit and debit just didn't match up to the elegance of a musical score sheet.

He couldn't imagine how his soul could be fed by economic theories.

I'd much rather be dead.

Earlier in the day, he had arranged to see Cathy at the dance studio. He took his time scrubbing and shaving. He even ended his grooming ritual with moisturising his skin. His mind was full of romantic musing, tonight would be extraordinarily special.

When he was done with his grooming, he started the business of preening.

He held a shirt at arm's length, part of a Giorgio Armani tuxedo ensemble. His clothes were accentuated by his one indulgence, a dress watch by Baume et Mercier. The Swiss-engineered timepiece was called Classima. Watches were his shameless obsession; in his drawer were twenty-three pieces from varied makers. Each one a unique object of beauty, precision, and endless fascination to his eyes. He thought of Cathy.

He collected a case from a locked cupboard. Inside it was a Paganini violin, a treasure from childhood that was also an instrument of torture back in the day. He treasured this instrument. He earned it on his fifteenth birthday through sheer hard work. He had to get high nineties for all his subjects to get it. He carefully put the violin in the back seat and drove off to the dance studio.

He had prepared a surprise for Cathy. Today, she would be practicing her solo dance for a recital, a choreography from Swan Lake. Secretly, he had been practicing the score to accompany her dance.

Last week, he watched her practice. He was entranced by her beauty and the fluidity of her movements. It couldn't have been as easy as she made it looked. Every pirouette and leap seemed effortless. She danced to recorded music over the PA, but she deserved better; that was when the thought of playing his violin for her came to him.

Cathy was in the gymnasium dressed exquisitely in her sequined leotard. On her feet were a pair of well-worn pointe shoes, her legs wrapped in pink satin ribbons. Her silken blond hair was up in a bun; light reflected and bounced off it, so she seemed to be wearing a halo. Willowy and graceful, she looked every inch a lovely swan.

She was limbering when he arrived, Jo her sole audience. Mesmerised by Cathy, the young girl didn't know her brother had arrived until he stepped onto the floor. He put his case down, opened it and lifted the violin to the crook of his neck. With a deep breath, he played the first bars of the music he had been memorising for a week.

Cathy pirouetted to the source of the sound. She mouthed, 'Oh, my God' before cracking a smile.

He took a bow, his eyes never leaving hers. When he straightened up, he once again rested the instrument on his collarbone. He relaxed his neck muscles before placing a gentle weight from his head on the violin to stabilise it.

She positioned herself in the centre of the floor, ready to execute Odette's "dying swan" solo from Swan Lake.

He closed his eyes as he drew the bow across the strings to play 'Le carnaval des animaux -- Le Cygne.' The instrument was an extension of his body. He was at one with it, and when he played the piece, it was sublime and haunting.

The choreography was no less breathtaking. On tiptoe, Cathy dreamily and slowly circled around. Her hands' graceful and gliding motions seemed to reach for the horizon, as though she could fly. She gradually relaxed and sank to earth, arms waving faintly as though in pain. She faltered with irregular steps--leg bones quivering like the strings of a harp. With one sleek forward-gliding motion, she sank onto her left knee.

She, Cathy, in that very instance was transformed and became Odette, a dying swan. Her eyes, her body, and her face dramatically filled with pain, and she died.

Jonah had to close his eyes, or he would have forgotten the music.

There was only one open-eyed witness to the occasion, an eight-year-old child, her face awash with tears of joy.

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# 7: Last Straw

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WILLIAM CHUA'S FORTHCOMING fiftieth birthday was the business news of the week. Days before, full page adverts were taken out on every broad sheet to announce his grand birthday celebration.

The patriarch of the Chua Development empire even appeared on television on the day itself.

Jonah watched the show on the national broadcaster, the ABC. He was both impressed and appalled at his father's grandstanding and business savvy. There was no way he could do the same even if it was the only way to save his skin. He was, without a doubt, his father's antithesis.

Jo was watching too.

'Koko,' she said so very quietly. 'Who's going to be your date at the party?'

'You.'

'Why me? Why not Cathy? Is it because she's not Chinese? Will there be trouble?'

He sighed and thought, yes, there will be trouble, but what else is new?

But Jo had a point, so he said, 'You know what. I think you're right. I should bring Cathy to the party.'

*

HE WAS HELPING CATHY pack costumes into large boxes for the children's recital when he brought up the topic of his father's birthday celebrations.

'Would you be my date?'

'Are you serious?'

'Very.'

'I'd love to but are you sure it's okay with them?'

'I'm not sure it's okay with them, but it's definitely okay with me and Jo. Unfortunately, we will not be seated together. A traditional seating arrangement will be followed, but you can be sure that when I am free to mingle, I will be by your side.'

She was ambivalent and he could understand why. She wouldn't know anyone there so it would be little awkward, unless, 'Would you like to bring someone with you?'

'No one specifically. I'll be alright.'

'Thank you,' he said. 'It means a lot to me.'

She couldn't believe the changes in Jonah. She once knew him as someone abrasive, arrogant, mean, and bad-tempered. Now, he was a sensitive, caring, responsible, and really very adorable man. If she had only known a turtle could do this, she would have bought a reptile from the pet shop when they were kids.

*

ON THE AFTERNOON OF THE RECEPTION, Jonah put on his Yves Saint Laurent suit. No doubt his father would be disappointed. For while no one would notice he wasn't wearing a brand-new ensemble, William Chua would notice he was wearing the same outfit from his birthday celebration the year before. He didn't care. He was over being the show pony.

Next, he opened a drawer. His fingers ran the length of the glass display cabinet. Inside was his watch collection. He opened the case to touch the faces of the Omega, Rolex, Tissot, Longines, even the TW Steel watches but when his hand rested on a Casio calculator wrist watch, a bargain at seventy-five dollars, he decided to wear it for the party.

It was functional, cheap, could take a whole heap of work-related punishment and it looked like a toy. An amused thought went through his head; it would be fun!

He picked up Cathy who looked divine in a simple Grecian gown. With her regal bearing, she looked like royalty.

They arrived at the party at a decent time: not too late, not too early.

He stayed close to Cathy and introduced her to his two older sisters. Josephine and Johanna told Jonah that they liked his girlfriend through the playful arching of their eyebrows, as only siblings are wont to do to one another.

Jo held Cathy's hand as though the latter would run away.

Across the brightly lit ballroom, Jonah caught sight of his dad hobnobbing with a super-rich tycoon from China. Standing between the two middle-aged men was a delicate-looking Chinese woman around his age. She looked polished, beautifully coiffed, and draped in a designer gown. She didn't appear to walk; she glided. Her posture was ram-rod straight with a slight outward tilt of the hips much like a professional model. She was, he guessed, a product of a Swiss finishing school.

For some reason, seeing the three huddled together made him very uneasy. Something niggled at him, but he wasn't sure what it was.

Soon, the celebratory dinner would be underway.

An event coordinator approached the siblings, 'Excuse me, please follow me. I'll take you to your seats.'

'I'll be with you later,' Jonah whispered into Cathy's ear and joined the Chua clan at their assigned table.

As they neared the table, William beamed at his son and said, 'I want to introduce you to our guests. This is Chairman Lin of Golden Asia Enterprise.'

Jonah shook the older man's hand with both hands as a sign of respect. The battered Casio calculator watch came out of his sleeve much to his father's horror. Through his peripheral vision, he saw a glimpse of his Dad's aghast face. He smiled and Jo giggled.

The visitor didn't pay any attention, but still their father was shamed.

A toy watch! On an occasion that costs my company two hundred thousand to stage.

Next, Jonah was introduced to the stunning young woman, whose English name was Alyssa. As they shook hands a professional photographer snapped a shot. She leaned in to kiss him, another snap!

All that fuss, he thought, and I had only just met her.

All night, they mingled in the crowd: dad, mum, three sisters, and Jonah. Six photographers followed their every move, one for each family member.

When the time for the toast came, there were exuberant speeches from politicians of all persuasion, since Mr. Chua was a major donor to all political parties.

He danced with Cathy later that night. It was their only time together, but it was worth it. He savoured her delicate perfume and enjoyed the slow dance particularly. It was midnight by the time the party ended. He made sure that someone drove Cathy home since he couldn't leave the guests.

He texted her a love message that night.

*

MORNING CAME; HE TURNED on the television to watch the news. There was a still shot of him and Alyssa cheek-to-cheek but angled in such a way that they appeared to be kissing. The news anchor said, 'This is the best story of the day. East meets West. A financial dynasty if there ever was one.'

He stood nailed to the floor watching his life start to crumble before it even began. Jonah auto-dialled Cathy's number; he had to warn her.

Too late. Cathy had already seen the first broadcast.

She felt betrayed. Soft tears ran down her face. She heard her phone ring and looked down at the screen through the blur.

JC, it said.

She turned it off; went to the sink to dry retch.

*

JONAH STOPPED CALLING after his third attempt. He was going to stop this nonsense now. He geared up for a showdown.

He got in his car, slammed the door shut. His phone jiggled, he thought it must be Cathy calling back, but when he checked the screen, it said: Dad.

He ignored it. He was on the warpath. He had a heart to save.

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# 8: Defiance

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JONAH'S FOOT WAS PRESSED to the pedal of his Mazda Coupe. He was angered about the whole thing but he also, in all honesty, knew this day would come. He came from a dynasty of arranged marriages, but he was foolish enough to believe he was entitled to fall in love. He thought that the fact he was born in Australia meant he should be able to choose his bride. Alas, tradition dies hard.

It ends here. This mindless contemptible meddling must end now!

Everyone at home had no doubt what was in store when the Mazda screeched to a halt in the driveway. Jonah stormed in and slammed the door.

'Papa!' he bellowed from the cavernous foyer of the mansion.

'You don't need to holler, I'm not deaf.'

He turned around. His father was reclined on the chaise lounge in his silk pyjamas, obviously awaiting his arrival. Breakfast was laid out in front of him.

'Would you like some congee?' he offered, pretending to be oblivious to his son's anger.

His mother was seated near the window looking like a model in her designer outfit, even at this time of the morning!

Jonah asked his father, 'What are you up to now?'

'What am I up to? In case you haven't noticed you are of marrying age. I had you at your age. I'm not leaving your getting married to chance.'

'You could have at least discussed it with me! For your information, I have someone I intend to marry. Someone I love. Someone unpretentious. Someone all of us would be proud to have as an addition to this family. Someone I don't even deserve.' With that last word, his eyes teared up. Emotions had got the better of him.

'Whom are you holding a candle for? That ballet teacher who had a lousy father and a counter-lady for a mother?'

'Who's telling you all this?' Jonah asked. He was livid. It was clear that his father was checking on him.

'Who?' he asked again, this time in a more defiant tone.

A little voice from behind answered, 'I think it's Miss Sue.'

He gave Jo a baffled look.

'The one with the personality of a shoe,' she said.

Jonah turned back to his father, 'Oh, so there's someone there on your payroll. Well. For your information, Cathy's so much more than you give her credit for.'

'She's not Chinese!'

'I'm done here. And, please write me out of your will.'

As he turned to leave, Joanna clutched his leg.

'I'm coming with you,' she whispered.

'No, you're not,' said the family patriarch. 'I'm warning you, Jonah. You take Jo and I will have you arrested for kidnapping.'

'Kidnapping, my ass!' he said. He took Jo's hand and made a move.

'Nanny!' Mr. Chua bellowed. 'Take your charge.'

As the nanny tried to take Jo, the little girl screamed. It sounded like she was being taken to a slaughterhouse. It was heart-breaking. She hugged her big brother's leg tighter and sobbed her heart out, 'Don't leave me here. Don't leave me.'

Unable to bear seeing her distraught, the nanny let her go.

She knelt in front of her charge and said, 'Goodbye, I love you.'

Jo nodded vigorously. Jonah knelt on one knee so the little girl could hop on his back.

When the siblings reached the driveway, he said, 'I've got a small place and a low income. Can you eat pork and beans every day?'

To his surprise, she said, 'It doesn't matter Koko; I have money. I can pay for us while you look for better work.'

'You do?'

'Yeah, I've saved all my hong bao.'

Hong bao. Little red envelope stuffed with money and given as presents on special occasions.

He glanced at his little sister who had a brilliant head for money on her shoulders, much better than he at the same age. He had spent all his money the minute he received it.

'So how much money are we talking about here?'

He wasn't prepared for the answer.

'Ten thousand.'

'Wow, really? Are you sure you don't mean one thousand?'

Jo was offended. She crossed her arms on her chest and said, 'I placed first in mathematics, so yes, I can tell the difference between one thousand and ten thousand.'

'What can I say? Inflation. I never got more than ten dollars in my hong bao growing up.'

'Where are we going?'

'To your ballet school, to look for Cathy.'

'Bloody about time,' she said.

He stole at look at Jo, 'Who's teaching you to swear?'

'Karl! He also taught me to swear in Swahili, Indo, and Afrikaans.'

Karl was their dad's close protection bodyguard. He had been a soldier.

'I better tell Karl to stop this tutorial. On second thought, we won't be seeing him again.'

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# 9: Love Broke Through

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CATHY FINALLY MADE IT to the school. She walked with her head down, avoided the stares of students, anxious to get to the sanctuary of her office.

People seemed to be looking at her and whispering. That brought back memories. She hated the pitying look they casually gave her. Before this morning, when she was still going out with Jonah, it was the envy she disliked.

She couldn't compete with the modelicous beauty of Alyssa Lee, not to mention her money. Despite her heightened anxiety, she battled through--just for today.

She had to think what she might do. She might have to go to North America to nurse her broken heart, go to a place where the object of her love and desire couldn't cast a shadow.

She closed the door to the sewing room, sat on a wicker chair and closed her eyes. She felt weak, helpless, and hopeless; very much sickened to her stomach.

Briefly, she allowed herself to daydream about escaping to Bali' Hai, a fictional place in the South Pacific.

Suddenly, the door flew open and who would be standing there but the Chua siblings. She looked at them, swallowed and said, 'Do you have an appointment?'

'Do we need one?' he asked. 'I've just come here to tell you I want to get married.'

She stared at him stoically, 'I saw...' she said softly.

Jo cottoned on.

'Silly,' she said with exasperation. 'He means you. He wants to marry you. Ah...'

She grabbed the side of her face and said, 'Silly adults!'

'Will you marry me?' he asked, formally, this time.

Cathy was dumb-founded.

'Will you marry me?

'Say yes,' said Jo, nodding vigorously.

'Yes.'

He scooped Cathy up in his arms and said, 'You've made me the happiest man on earth.'

After a long warm hug, Cathy asked him, 'What did this proposal cost you?' knowing that it must have been a lot.

'Everything and nothing,' he said in all honesty.

Little Jo piped up, 'Ahem, but you still have me, remember?'

They were all very happy until a uniformed officer knocked on the door, 'Excuse me, we've got a reported kidnapping. Jonah Chua, you're under arrest.'

Jo said, 'The hell he is!'

'Who are you?' asked the Officer.

Before Jo could reply, Cathy said, 'I think there's a misunderstanding here. They're brother and sister and they both came here willingly.'

'I'm sorry but he is under arrest ... you can explain at the precinct.'

Cathy and Jo watched helplessly as Jonah was taken away. Then, Cathy decided that this insanity had gone far enough along!

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# 10: A Plea for Compassion

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CATHY, TOGETHER WITH JO, called on William and Jolene Chua at their residence to plead for Jonah. They were worried, Cathy especially. Scared might be a better description. She could feel the sweat run down her spine as she prepared to press the buzzer.

The housekeeper saw them on the video screen but didn't press the button to let them in. Instead, she pressed the phone icon to let them know she would ask permission to let them in.

It was Jo who said, 'It's okay Delia, we'll wait.'

Delia found the masters of the house in the library in a serious discussion among themselves.

'I'm sorry to disturb you,' she said, 'but Jo and Jonah's girlfriend are here.'

William and Jolene exchanged glances.

'Let them in,' said Jolene.

Delia walked briskly towards the main entrance; it was times like this when she wished she were working in a tiny apartment. From the library, she had to walk past the expansive informal living room, then the open-plan kitchen and formal living room before she could reach the main entrance. Cleaning the kitchen alone was an aerobics exercise. But the upside was that she had an amazing water view overlooking Sydney Harbour.

The housekeeper smiled at Jo and gave her a welcoming hug. She had been serving the Chua clan since Jonah was born, so she was part of the family.

'Come in,' she told Cathy with a smile. 'They'll be with you soon. What would you like to drink?'

'Water, please.'

'What about you, Jo?'

'Just water for me, Del.'

Del returned with a tray balancing two glasses of iced water and biscuits. Jo and Cathy were standing outside on the balcony, looking at the million-dollar view. She placed the tray on a bespoke outdoor table.

'Here you go. Do you need anything else?'

'Where's Amah?' asked Jo. Her nanny would normally be here to greet her. The fact she wasn't made her feel apprehensive and she had every reason to.

'Your mum and dad asked her to go,' said Delia sadly.

Jo burst into tears.

Delia hugged her tightly. She knew how heart-broken the poor child would be.

Cathy watched the little one sob and was soon crying, too. She had no words sufficient to comfort Jo. Her little world had been crushed and then tipped upside-down in so short a time.

Whatever it takes, she said to herself, I'll try to restore their world back to where it was.

Delia left to get a box of tissues while Jo sat with Cathy.

The little one's head was buried on her lap, drenching the front of her pants in tears. She stroked Jo's sweaty head trying, and failing, to comfort her.

Delia returned with a box of tissue, along with a damp and warm face towel. She thoughtfully wiped the sweat and tears off Jo's face. The affectionate way Delia did this made Jo cry even more.

'I miss Amah,' she said.

'Me, too.'

They heard two sets of footsteps. One soft, the other harder.

Jo sat up straight quickly while Delia hastened to join the others in the servants' quarters. Cathy stood to face them. She was scared, trembling and she felt like puking, but there was no turning back now. She had come to be an advocate for Jonah. She swallowed her fear and tried to keep herself together.

Jo clasped her hand tightly.

'The police have taken Jonah. I'll do anything ...' She couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. They understood precisely what she was trying to say.

William and Jolene didn't say a word.

Cathy through tears that rolled slowly down her cheeks said, 'Are you really happy not to have him in your lives? Why must his happiness be mutually exclusive to yours? Are you not able to be happy for him?'

William's shoulders sagged as he expelled a sigh.

Am I happy not to have my son in my life? Of course, not.

'I just wish he'd be more grateful for what I'm building up for him.'

'You've got two daughters with brilliant minds for business. They enjoy growing your business with you. How is this fair to them? I know I have no right to say this, but I love Jonah. I want to see him happy. And, you happy. But none of this ...'

Cathy was right; he had been stubborn. He and wife Jolene.

They looked at each other; twenty-five years together meant they could almost read each other's minds. They had been wrong.

It can't be wrong to pursue love and happiness, could it?

'You're right,' he said. 'I'll call my barrister.'

He shuffled wearily to his office to make the call to arrange Jonah's release.

*

A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER, William called the Chinese guest of honour to deliver the unwelcome news. Considering the loss of face for all involved, it gave him ulcers just thinking what or even how to say it.

This could be costly in more ways than one, but it must be done.

It took him several attempts before he could bring himself to say it: 'Jonah was already spoken for; sorry I didn't know till now.'

The tycoon berated him, releasing a stream of profanity for the embarrassment this fiasco would cause him and his daughter. William apologised again, and again. That was all he could do under the circumstances.

Months later, resigned to the fact that Jonah would not take the reins from him, he called his management and legal teams. It was time to discuss an effective transition for the business, when the time came, to his two elder daughters.

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# 11: The Recital

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THE DAY THEY HAD BEEN ANTICIPATING ARRIVED. It was being held at the Sydney Opera House, the perfect venue with its gorgeous setting.

Backstage, the teachers and a few volunteers helped the kids into their costumes, hair, and make-up. It was pandemonium even though they had started at three in the afternoon for six-p.m. start. The excitement was palpable, but so was the stress.

Cathy and the other teachers kept reminding the kids that the recital was just for fun. But they should also try their best.

At precisely six in the evening, the hour-long programme commenced with a performance of "Waltz of the Snow Flakes" from The Nutcracker.

Three promising teens played the principal characters of the Nutcracker, Clara, and Drosselmeyer. The corps de ballet were kids of all ages. They performed a special version of the choreography and promptly stole the show with their antics.

The applause was deafening for every dance routine as parents showed unbridled enthusiasm for their offspring's performance.

The hour went quickly, and soon it was the finale.

Cathy would be performing with the students. She was going to be Odette, dancing the dying swan's ballet.

In the orchestra pit, dressed immaculately in white tuxedo, Jonah prepared to play solo on his precious violin. Up on the stage, with the spotlight on her, Cathy waited for him to hit the first note.

He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to risk becoming distracted by her emotive interpretation of the dance.

The audience held their collective breath in anticipation.

Cathy and the corps de ballet danced flawlessly to music performed by an emerging virtuoso. In the end, as one, the audience rose to their feet.

They clapped for all the performers at curtain call.

The last one to be introduced was Jonah. Cathy invited him to come to the stage.

He walked to the centre of the stage to take a bow. As he straightened, Cathy stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck.

He put an arm around her tiny waist and whispered, 'I love you.'

She rested her head on his shoulder.

Sweetly, she said, 'Wǒ ai nǐ.'

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-The End -

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# A Gentle Plea

Thank you for taking the time to read

The Violinist and the Ballerina

Word of mouth is an author's best friend.

If you have enjoyed it, kindly consider telling your friends, leaving a review, or rating it on Goodreads.com.

Your kindness is much appreciated.

Oh, and please follow me on Facebook.

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Love,

Angelin

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# Bonus Preview: Mosaic

WHAT EDGAR TUGADE, freelance journalist, said about 'Mosaic.'

The book is absorbing because its characters and plot are fleshed out and grippingly narrated. It reads as if based on personal experience and the author's knowledge of police work is extensive. The symbol of a broken jar being transformed into a mosaic is apt and but not obtrusive. Minute observation and adequate research are smoothly integrated on the plot which shows a firm grasp of human psychology. I recommend this book to people who work with victims of abuse, to NGOs, to party-list groups, priests and psychologists.

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# Prologue

JESS DROVE IN SILENCE.

Her boyfriend, Ralph, was in the passenger seat, struggling to breathe. It was another one of his dreaded panic attacks that came without warning. His heart rate increased until he thought he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

Dub, dub. Dub, dub. Dub, dub.

Faster and faster.

He leaned forward, rested his head on the dashboard and started breathing out of his mouth.

Inhale, exhale.

His mind exhorting his body to follow his command.

Breathe, Ralph, breathe.

Watching him from the corner of her eyes, Jess decided to detour to their favourite spot; it wasn't time to take him home just yet. She would sit this one out with him, however long it took.

She stopped the car at Charge Point on Northerly Island, a man-made peninsula along Chicago's lakefront. The normally bustling public area was deserted in the dead of the night.

Ralph rushed to get out of the vehicle as though on fire. He fast walked towards the water and slumped near the water's edge, heaving.

She watched eagle-eyed from the car; concern etched on her face.

Finally, Ralph stood, catatonic-like, to stare across the water, looking at the myriad LED, neon and fluorescent lights that flooded the business district of Chicago. He wondered how many wounded souls, just like him, were wide awake with deep sorrow in their hearts. He shifted his gaze to stare at the moon's reflection. The water was calm. The lunar lantern looked as though it had decided to float on its back.

Jess stayed in the sedan, giving him space, watching and trusting him not to do anything stupid.

He would do what he needed to do, and then he would move on. They would move on together, even if it were a rocky road ahead.

Minutes later, he sat by the water's edge, hunched over.

Jess walked over to join him.

He sensed someone coming. He turned around to see who it was. Their eyes locked briefly. Angst was clearly written on his face, echoing the pain and suffering he was feeling within. He looked back quickly; avoiding her solemn gaze.

She sat behind him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested her cheek on his back. Pressed body to body, the warmth made the evening cold bearable; and hearing the beats of his heart assured her he was going to be alright, somehow.

His baritone voice, cracking with emotion, finally hit the still air.

'It's not always like this. Most of the time, it doesn't even matter. I try to live my life without thinking about it.'

He paused before continuing.

'The thing about it is that I could never tell what would trigger it. It could be a bottle of Vaseline on the shelf. It could be the smell of damp. It could be a tune. And, I could never tell how it'd hit me.'

Jess nodded.

He felt the gentle bobbing up and down of her head on his back. She was one of only a handful of people who knew he had been repeatedly raped as a young adolescent by a trusted family friend and music mentor.

He continued.

'The thing about abuse is you can't bury it like the dead. It's not a dead pet, or a dead loved one or friend. It stays in your heart, so for as long as it keeps beating, you have to keep living with it.'

She could only contemplate in her mind what it must have been like; although she had lived with a measure of pain in her life, too. Growing up part-Inuit in Canada, her birth country, she had harboured memories of bullying in her childhood. Yet, she couldn't even begin to know what it was like to be in Ralph's shoes. She could relate to him, though. She knew about triggers and how it would just come and hit you in the solar plexus when you least expected it. And, how you just had to be constantly alert and on guard.

They were quiet for some time, lost in their own thoughts. The passage of time indicated by the position of the full moon in the night sky. It had shifted north, or more precisely north-west, as they remained stationary, locked in a hug.

*

EVENTUALLY, THEY BOTH felt the cold bite into their bones. The temperature had dropped significantly.

'Let's go.'

Ralph made a move to get up, then gave her a helpful tug to her feet. They headed back to the car, arm in arm.

Jess grabbed a blanket from the trunk; then they climbed into the back seat and snuggle-cuddled to keep warm.

Locked in an embrace, Jess turned to Ralph. She said, 'A wise woman once told me that when you break a vase, you can't pick up the pieces and glue them back together to recreate it. It just doesn't work that way, but you can pick up the broken pieces and make a beautiful mosaic out of it. You can create something truly beautiful with the broken pieces, and it doesn't matter how many fragments there are. Or how tiny they are.'

She paused momentarily, willing Ralph to absorb it, 'That's what we need to create.'

'We need to bring our broken pieces together and try to create something beautiful from it. A mosaic of life that people can admire. Together, we can make something they can look at and find inspiration from. We can make something beautiful out of our brokenness.'

Ralph kissed her hands and flooded it with tears. It's not over yet. They still have a mosaic to create together, one sparkling, broken, piece at a time.

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# 1: It Started with Hello

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SPIKE WAS CARRYING two loads of shopping in his arms. Winnie, his fiance, had a bag of groceries in one hand while the other held the door open to their building. She turned sideways to let him through first. Instead, he met her upturned face with a spontaneous kiss. They didn't ordinarily lock lips for the world to see; it was just one of those moments.

The door to apartment one which directly faced the main entrance, suddenly opened. A young lad of about five saw the earth-shaking event between the interracial couple. His right hand instantly flew to his face to cover his eyes.

'Caramba, get a room,' he said with a touch of reprimand.

They disengaged quickly in deference to the child, who they thought was hilarious as he was peeking between his little fingers.

Laughing, Spike said, 'Hello.'

The precocious little boy said hello back as he inspected them up and down. They felt exposed; akin to being scrutinised under a microscope.

Spike thought that the situation called for an introduction.

'I'm Spike. This is Winnie. What's your name?'

The little boy who looked to be of mixed race, perhaps an Amerasian, with soft brown hair and eyes said, 'I'm not allowed to talk to strangers.'

They heard a woman's voice from inside the apartment, 'Com quem voce esta falando?' She came out, anxious to get her little boy back inside.

Winnie attempted to get to know their new neighbours.

'Hi, I'm Winnie. This is Spike. We live upstairs, apartment seven.'

The petite Asian woman smiled tightly and kept mum. She nodded a little, it was barely perceptible, then held her son's shoulder firmly before closing the door.

Spike and Winnie looked at each other, intrigued by the frosty reception.

'They mustn't speak English,' said Winnie to Spike.

'I doubt it, he told us to get a room, remember?' Recalling this, they smiled at each other, 'but they must have just moved in,' observed Spike.

'What made you say that?'

'I've never seen kids in this building before.'

'How would you know? We're hardly ever home.'

'True.'

*

THERE WERE FIVE APARTMENTS on the ground floor and five on the second. It was a small complex built in the sixties when apartments were built for people. The newer ones seem to be designed and constructed for one and a half beings, the half being a kitten or a puppy.

Spike set the shopping bags down on the kitchen bench then left Winnie to sort them out. He went out again to get the last load, thinking all the while, how two adults and two birds could possibly need all these groceries.

The young family from apartment one was also heading out, so he bumped into the little boy again. He was now rugged up for a coldish Chicago spring.

The boy greeted him, his new acquaintance, 'Hi Spike.'

Spike squatted to see eye-to-eye with the child, careful to put a safe distance between them.

'That's not fair, you know my name, but I don't know yours.'

'I'm William, you can call me Liam, and this is my sister Crystal.'

Spike moved his head slightly to the left to see behind Liam, a very pretty girl of seven was standing just behind, dressed in thick padded coat and a pair of denim jeans.

'She bites, so be careful,' warned the little boy in accented English which Spike couldn't place.

'I don't bite! He's lying,' the girl retorted with a frown, clearly annoyed with her little brother.

Her arms full of children's thing, their mother was soon standing nearby and saw them talking. 'Come on kids, vamos,' adding in English, presumably for his benefit, 'stop bothering the man.'

'Can I help you? I'm on my way out to the car park,' Spike offered.

She was hesitant. Her face and body language exuded ambivalence, but with her hands full, she accepted the offer.

'Sure. It's hard with kids, all is a major production.'

'What's why I only have birds,' he replied with a smile. Spike took a shoulder bag and a backpack off her. She carried a wicker basket of food and drinks.

'Obrigado ... I mean thank you,' she said as they loaded the stuff into the trunk.

'You're welcome. Sorry, I didn't get your name.'

She looked momentarily undecided whether she should trust him with her name. Eventually, she said, 'Kate.'

Liam heard this.

'Isso nao e--.'

Kate glared, which spoke volumes, then she shushed him. The kid stopped mid-sentence.

Spike pretended not to notice. Kate, if that was really her name, didn't want anyone to know their personal business. He just hoped they were okay.

The kids climbed into the back seat. Crystal glanced back to look through the window. She offered a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Those innocent, light brown eyes were sad. She quickly faced forward. All he could see now was the top of her hair band.

Wondering what was taking so long, Liam also twisted around in his booster seat to spy upon the adults.

Spike, perhaps because of his profession, had sensed the family was in trouble, so without hesitation he opened his wallet to get a business card. He offered it to Kate.

'Any time you need a friend, don't hesitate to call. My girlfriend Winnie and I are staying at number seven.'

She accepted it without reading what's on it, then gave Spike a barely discernible nod before putting it in her pocket and turning away.

Spike didn't like what he was sensing, but he was also not one to base his conclusions on gut feelings.

He didn't know it yet, but this family had been on the run from a monster. One without horns, tail and pitchfork. As a matter of fact, he looked divine, the very antithesis of a monster. He was tall, well-dressed, outwardly mild-mannered, a community leader and very handsome by all definition; not at all the face of evil as one would expect.

This family needed all the help they could get.

Help would come, and it started with 'Hello.'

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# 2: Starting Over

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ANOTHER WEEK HAD PASSED before Winnie and Spike saw the children again, their lives being so preoccupied with work.

They were taking their loved-up pet Parakeets, Mr and Mrs Smith, out to the park, when they came across the kids and their mom, Kate, coming back from the shop.

The family was covered in winter gear from head to toe. The temperature wasn't that cold to warrant all that padding, so they were certain the trio didn't dress up to combat the weather. There had to be an underlying reason. However, it wasn't their place to speculate.

The kids were excited to make the birds' acquaintance. Liam, the more talkative of the siblings, said, 'We had dogs - a Pomeranian and a Poodle. We had to leave them back home. I really miss them.'

Winnie lowered herself to be eye level with the boy whose accent, she couldn't quite place.

'What did you call them?'

Kate shifted her weight. She appeared tensed and agitated.

'Sorry, I hate to be rude, but I have to feed them.' She took her a kids' arm in each hand and herded them inside the apartment quickly.

'Something's wrong,' Winnie whispered to Spike.

He rubbed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, 'We'll figure it out. I think Mr and Mrs Smith will be our way in.'

*

DURING THE WEEK, SPIKE and Winnie worked odd hours, so between the two of them, there was an eighteen-hour stretch of coming and going. At night, they had both independently observed that the lights at number one were never turned off. Someone residing there was truly afraid of the dark.

Winnie was coming home late one night when she heard hysterical sobbing. The sound was coming from Kate's apartment. It's got to be Crystal, she thought, as she neared the front door. The crying stopped just as she was standing right outside.

She put a hand and pressed an ear to the door, trying to ascertain that everyone was all right. Her wristwatch said it was fifteen past eight in the evening, not the ideal time to visit. She was about to leave when the door opened.

Kate, looking strained and surprised, was carrying a bag of waste to take to the bin outside.

Winnie said, 'Hi, Kate, I was just...' She paused, struggling to think of what to say.

'Hi, Winnie,' she said softly. 'Did you need anything?'

'Actually, I just ... well, I heard someone crying.'

Kate looked at the bag of trash in her hand, then said, 'It's okay. Let me just--'

''Let me,' offered Winnie. 'Stay here.'

'Okay, thanks. Umm, you're welcome for coffee.'

'Thanks, I'd like that. I'll be back soon.'

*

WINNIE KNOCKED. THE door was opened straightaway. Kate must have stood behind it while waiting for her to return.

Once inside, Winnie was careful to remove her shoes when she saw a pile of them by the side of the door. Two things she noticed immediately. The apartment was barely furnished, and it was spotless; not the sort of place one would expect for a five and a seven-year-old to be living full-time.

Kate was apologetic about their domestic situation.

'I'm sorry, we haven't settled in yet.'

Winnie smiled, 'Don't worry about it.'

A quick scan showed nothing personal. No photographs or decorations of any kind. Picture hooks looked like sore thumbs on the walls. Dust outlines, where picture frames used to hang, were a silent reminder that the new occupants had not made it their home. Nevertheless, every effort had been exerted into making it habitable despite what it lacked.

There was a well-worn white leather sofa with four cushions in the living room; the kind one buys at opportunity shops operated by the likes of St. Vincent de Paul or the Salvation Army. On the floor, cheap toys were arranged neatly in one corner.

The apartment was painted entirely in white, even the curtains were white, that it felt more like a hospital suite than a home. Only the predominantly red patterned carpet and the reddish-brown doors gave it a touch of colour. A few minutes in, Winnie felt depressed already. In her mind, it was too sterile.

She followed Kate into the kitchen, which was equally austere and old-fashioned. The orange splashback and the drawer handles in gold-plate really dated it. At a guess, it was probably the same kitchen it came with, which was made in the eighties, although apparently, the design would soon be trendy again.

After the quick appraisal, she turned her focus to Kate.

'How are you and how are the kids?' she asked sincerely, careful not to overstep with her concern.

Kate didn't answer. Instead, she asked Winnie if she'd like tea; a classic avoidance tactic.

Winnie wasn't sure how long she should stay, but she was determined to get to know them, so she decided a cup of tea wouldn't hurt.

'Yes, please,' she replied.

Kate busied herself with the kettle, filling it to just the right level. While they waited for the water to boil, Kate prepared the Japanese tea pot and the dainty tea cups lacquered in black and red motif. She sensed as she pottered about that Winnie wasn't in a hurry to leave, and being Asian, she also didn't want to offend her.

Winnie watched silently in appreciation as Kate delicately prepared the Japanese tea leaves in the teapot, steeped the brew, before pouring it. The tea ceremony was calming, because it was, to her mind, done unhurriedly. Perhaps, it was also due to the absence of tinkling sound, of a teaspoon against the ceramic or cup against the saucer. She observed the amber-coloured liquid as it poured out of the spout to the little cup, it was as though her tiredness washed out with it. It was Zen, in motion.

Kate opened up a little as they sipped tea.

'Crystal's afraid of the dark, graças a Deus, Liam can sleep through it now. It used to wake him up.'

She was intrigued and wanted to ask more questions, but Winnie felt it wasn't the time as it would be too intrusive; and, on Kate's part, it would be too confronting to be probed by a complete stranger. She opted for a safe topic.

'I hope you don't mind me asking, do you have an extended family in Chicago?'

Kate shook her head.

'I'm second-generation Japanese-American, I was born in Hawaii. Some of my family is still there. From age ten, I lived in Brazil, the home of the largest diaspora of Japanese in the world.'

'Did you say largest? Larger than the United States?'

'Yes, there are more than 1.5 million Japanese descent living in Brazil, and only over 1.2 million in the U.S.'

After supplying this trivia, Kate was reticent again; she seemed distracted.

Winnie surreptitiously studied Kate. She may have been born in Hawaii and grew up in Brazil, but she was still steeped in Japanese ways. There was something about her, she thought. A quiet dignity and silent bravery belied by her petite and frail physical appearance.

Kate looked up, smiled thinly before apologising for her lack of hospitality.

'On the contrary,' said Winnie, protesting. 'I love the way you did that, very delicate.'

'Oh, the way of tea ... it's important to enjoy every step of the preparation.'

'It was Japanese green tea. Did you like it?'

'I did, it's refreshing.'

Several minutes passed. Winnie sensed she would soon overstay her welcome. She thanked her hostess, but couldn't leave it open-ended, so she risked it.

'Kate, I just want to let you know that you can trust us. You must trust someone some time. You know Spike's with WITSEC, right?'

Her new acquaintance nodded, 'I do.'

This information was embossed on his business card. Lance 'Spike' Smith, Department of Justice, United States Marshal, Senior Deputy.

'I also work with the U.S. Marshals Service, except I'm a humble pencil pusher, bound to a desk. Spike, though, is a field agent. This is my cell number. Any time you need help, just call, or knock on our door, okay? I mean it.' She looked Kate in the eyes to make sure she understood how much she meant what she had just said.

'It's also my day off tomorrow. If you want me to mind the kids, I'd be happy to; to give you a break. I'm sure they'd like to play with our birds.'

Kate exhaled; the kind that was out of exhaustion than relief.

'I'm taking Crystal to the see the doctor at ten tomorrow. Would you watch Liam for me, for an hour? He gets very bored and unruly at the doctor's.'

'No problem, I'll be here tomorrow at nine-thirty.'

At the door, Winnie squeezed Kate's hands to convey warmth and friendship. She felt a hug was still premature.

*

UP AT THEIR APARTMENT, Winnie found Spike on the couch having fallen asleep watching the Animal Channel. She noiselessly moved about, careful not to wake the man who would have to be up again in four hours' time to return to work. A career in the USMS, the oldest federal law enforcement agency in the United States, could kill a weaker human being.

She had a passing thought that it's a wonder she remembers what he looks like at all, with so little time together.

Watching him peacefully asleep, her mind slipped back to the time they first met three years ago, when Spike had just transferred from the New York office.

*

SHE HAD UNASHAMEDLY drooled at the new Senior Deputy. They all did if that was any consolation, even some of the men. The outline of his rippling torso was evident in his form-fitting T-shirt. Her imagination ran away with her as she conjured a mental image of a naked New Yorker. Doubtless, she had thought, that he possessed the physique of that marble Roman statue called 'David' as sculpted by Michelangelo.

There the similarity ended. For one thing, Spike wasn't of alabaster colour. He was dark chocolate, with light brown eyes, topped with a mop of unruly curly hair.

The African-American hunk, she would discover months later, was in fact part Irish.

'Irish? Really?' She had asked with incredulity when he first told her of his ancestry.

'My mother's Irish-American from the Bronx.'

Considering she was looking at the human hybrid of Colin Farrell and Shemar Moore, her reaction was controlled; she just plain said, 'Oh, my God.'

To which his wicked response was, 'I'm just a man, but thank you.'

*

AFTER FEASTING HER EYES on her eye-candy, she showered and changed into her pyjamas. She debated with herself while drying her hair, whether to curl up with Spike or leave him be.

I think I've forgotten what you smell like, too.

She sighed.

In the end, consideration won the debate, so she went to bed alone. Shortly after though, Spike got up from the couch to join her.

'Thought you were asleep.'

'I was,' he said in sleep-walking fashion, then draped his arms around her and was out like a light.

*

THE NEXT MORNING, WINNIE came down with the birds. The kids were bubbling over with excitement, and the parakeets handled the situation with aplomb.

'These are Mr and Mrs Smith; they're parakeets, a kind of budgerigars or budgies.'

Crystal instantly bonded with Mrs Smith.

'How old is she?' She wanted to know, stroking the bird's head.

'We think she's twenty months. No one really knows for sure. Spike found her in the park with a broken wing when she was tiny. A wonderful vet saved her life.'

Just then, Kate said, 'Crystal, time to go.'

The little girl suddenly became sullen and unresponsive.

'Cris, please. We won't take long. I'm sure Winnie will let you play with the birds when we get back.'

'Go on, Cris,' Winnie encouraged the girl, 'We'll be here when you get back.'

The seven-year-old gave her a sad face but followed her Mom out.

Winnie turned her attention back to Liam, 'What would you like to do?'

'Can we go to the park?'

Since she hadn't asked Kate if she could take Liam out, she said they'd do that next time, just to be on the safe side.

In the next two hours, Kate phoned four times to inquire of Liam's well-being. Her separation anxiety was high, so Winnie kept reassuring her.

Liam, on the hand other, happily played with Mr and Mrs Smith without a care in the world.

While sitting Liam, Winnie made home-cooked lunch in the kitchen.

It's the least I can do... for now.

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# 3: Lovers and Friends

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WINNIE AND SPIKE SAW the friendship door crack ajar, though only slightly after she had looked after Liam. They were determined not to let the door slam shut.

Strike while the iron is hot may not be the most profound of proverbs, but it was appropriate in this case. They decided to go full blast on the kindness offensive.

It had been two years into their relationship when they decided to take it to the next level, as in, move in together. By this stage in their lives, they had both been living independently for over a decade. So, when Winnie moved in, they had two of everything.

Their redundant furniture and appliances were presently still in storage, getting old, gathering dust and costing money. With the family's obvious plight, Spike suggested that Kate and the kids could make good use of them.

Winnie agreed.

Not only that, Spike had recently become aware that fellow U.S. Marshal, Assistant Deputy Ralph Curtis, Jr. was moving in with his girlfriend, Jess. He would ask them to contribute some stuff, too.

*

LATE ONE NIGHT, SPIKE knocked on apartment one.

Kate checked through the peephole to see who it was. She was anxious, but still she opened the door ever so slightly.

Clearly, she was hesitant to let him in. So, Spike stepped back to give her space and disarmed her with a well-meaning smile.

'Winnie and I have two of most things. You could help us by taking them off our hands, you'll save us the cost of storage, too. If you don't mind ...'

Before Kate could say a word, a little voice said from behind, 'Would you have a writing table for me?' Then, little Liam's head popped between Kate and the door

Spike replied in a heartbeat.

'Yes, and two little chairs to go with it.' All the while thinking: he hadn't seen a small writing table since he was five. He'd buy it if he had to, that would be no inconvenience at all.

'Thank God,' he said dramatically, accompanied with a sigh. 'I'm sick of sitting on the floor.'

Kate quickly grabbed his mouth and covered it; she turned red with embarrassment.

'I'm sorry, he talks too much.'

'Don't worry. I was like him at that age. I still talk a hundred miles a minute when I'm excited. We can move things in tomorrow, if that's okay with you.'

Liam's garbled voice came through between the cracks of his mother's fingers, still holding his mouth shut. 'Um, um, um,' he said, nodding his little head vigorously.

Spike looked down, amused at his tiny friend's antics, 'Would nine-a.m. suit you?'

The head went up and down in agreement, not that he knew what nine-a.m. meant. Spike looked at Kate who indicated with the tiniest smile that it was okay.

'Great, see you tomorrow,' he said, ruffling Liam's hair before going up to his apartment.

*

SPIKE PLANNED TO SNEAK UP on his woman, but Mr Smith gave him up by mimicking his voice, announcing in three successive repetitions, 'Hi there, sweet Win.'

Male parakeets can learn to talk, but the females generally don't, as in the case of Mrs Smith. Instead, she danced a jig on her perch to her Romeo's amusing refrain.

Spike reprimanded the bird for being a killjoy.

With all that ruckus, Winnie stepped out of the bedroom.

Spike's right hand went to his chest upon seeing his girlfriend's frizzy hair, and her lithe body in his old T-shirt. His affection for her bubbled up to the surface, 'Come here, give me a kiss,' he said, in an almost demanding tone.

Winnie came over slowly. One tip-toed foot in front of the other, her hands behind her.

'What's that behind you?' he asked, immediately on the alert.

'Nothing,' she said in a naughty kind of way.

'Nope, don't believe you. What is it?' Suspicion coated his voice. 'I don't think you should be coming near me,' he stepped back to get away. 'Stop right here.'

The birds sensed something was up, so comically they backed up in their cage too, in step with Spike.

Winnie kept her eyes on him, amused at his reaction, 'Oh what! You can dish it, but you can't eat it.' She moved closer, he backed off one more step.

'I'm not in the mood,' he warned, a finger pointed at her in dire warning.

'Oh, I am,' she said.

They carried on until they circled the living room and the kitchen bench.

'Winnie, I'm tired. I'm not in the mood.' She has a habit of squirting him in the eyes with water or baby oil. He wasn't in the mood.

He was so pathetic, Winnie laughed.

'You're not in the mood? I'm so sorry to hear that.' As she turned around to walk away, Winnie showed him the thing she was holding behind her. She lifted it up over her head with a finger. It was an itsy-bitsy G-string, the tiniest he had ever seen in his life, which made him wonder what purpose it served.

Oh uh.

Spike was suddenly in the mood and gave chase, 'You haven't hugged me yet.' He caught up her, grabbed her from behind, turned her around and kissed her.

Just like that, they forgot everything. At that moment, it was just the two of them answering their bodies' mating call.

*

WHEN THEIR PASSION had been spent, and their energy had been exhausted, they lay in bed talking.

Spike turned to face her, 'Ralph's coming tomorrow to help us move our stuff to Kate's place. He's bringing some of theirs, too.'

'Theirs?' Winnie asked with a twinkle in her eyes, 'So they made the big leap, eh?'

'Well, they sort of followed our very good example, thanks to me.'

'I like you very much when you're humble like that,' she said, tweaking his nose. 'But, aren't Ralph and Jess barely in their twenties?'

'What's that got to do with anything?' replied Spike in shock. 'You sound like his mother.'

Winnie smiled. 'We didn't move in together till we were in our thirties, so what's their rush?'

*

SHE COULD STILL REMEMBER the day Ralph Curtis Jr. walked into the Chicago office, looking for Senior Deputy Lance 'Spike' Smith.

The fresh-faced, twenty-two-year-old, had just completed a rigorous twenty-one-week basic training program at the U.S. Marshal Service Training Academy in Glynco, Georgia and had just been deputised.

When Spike came out to meet the man-boy they now regard as the team mascot, he initially thought Ralph was lost. He had this certain puppy-dog look about him that had brought out the protective instinct in his close-knit unit.

One year on, the probie was now a full-fledged Assistant Deputy but remained team mascot.

At any rate, Spike was not in the mood to role-play the psychologist's part, so changing the topic, he asked, 'Are you hungry?'

'More than you know.'

They got up, made supper; curled up in front of the TV, then promptly fell asleep on the couch.

*

THE NEXT DAY, RALPH and Jess arrived before eight a.m. with a truckload of stuff.

'Wakey, wakey,' he said when Spike answered his cell phone.

'Come on up.'

They were greeted by the squawks of two happy birds, and by the aroma of brewing coffee as they entered. Jess homed in on the espresso machine, 'I'm dying for a caffeine fix. Where's Winnie?'

'I'm here,' a voice called out from the bedroom, 'I'll be out soon.'

Winnie appeared in a faded cotton plaid shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbow, a pair of cotton ¾ black pants that showed the taper of her lower leg, white Vans shoes, and a thin hair band with a yellow bow. She was ready for anything today.

'How come you always look cute in any outfit?'

Winnie thanked Jess, who was like a younger sister, for the compliment and said she looked equally adorable in her workman's overall and red bandanna with banana prints.

They had coffee before heading downstairs.

*

LIAM OPENED THE DOOR to let them in before they knocked.

'Hello again. Have you got my writing table?'

'Liam, stop. Get inside, you're in the way,' reprimanded Kate, who was getting frustrated with such a precocious child.

'Kate, can we come in?' Winnie asked.

'I'm so sorry, yes, please come in.'

Winnie made the introduction. Crystal was shy with the newcomers and clung to her mother's hand. Liam, however, relished the chance to get to know more people; he was starved of connection.

'Kate, if it's okay with you, Jess and I can take the kids out to the park with Mr and Mrs Smith. Get them out of your hair for a while, give you time to set up the house.'

It was clear for all to see that Kate was ambivalent about this going-to-the-park business, on top of the fact she didn't know who Jess and Ralph were until a few minutes ago. So, the children helped make the decision for her.

'Mom, please,' they pleaded.

She looked at her children and saw in their eyes, not for the first time, the cost of their undeserved home detention.

'Please,' they chorused once more.

'Okay, I'll help you change.'

The kids came out dressed for the winter Olympics, covered from head to toe. Fussing over them, Kate reminded them in a soft voice not to remove their hats and to keep their sunglasses on, only then did she hand them over to Winnie and softly gave her thanks.

The scene spoke volumes. Winnie and Jess kept their thoughts to themselves, not even daring to look at each other.

*

THE FOUR OF THEM WALKED out together; Mr Smith was perched on Liam's shoulder, Mrs Smith on Crystal's.

Thirty minutes after they set off, Kate called Winnie to inquire about the kids.

'They're okay, they're having so much fun.'

Winnie had expected Kate to check in every half hour, at least. As far as she was aware, this little family had spent weeks and days sequestered in the apartment, and that had been over a month ago. Surprisingly, there was a forty-minute gap between the second and the third call, which was a dramatic improvement, considering the situation.

When Kate called again for the fourth time, Winnie asked permission to take the kids to lunch. She gave her okay only after Winnie mentioned the kid friendly cafe nearby.

'Would you like anything from the shop?' Winnie asked.

'No,' she said, 'you've already done enough for us.'

*

UPON THEIR RETURN, the kids were beyond happy to see their apartment transformed. Finally, it wasn't just an empty shell. It was a home with furniture, a few lovely things and photos in frames hanging on walls.

And, most importantly, the centrepiece! Liam's eyes grew round, 'Wow. My writing table! Mom, can I have some papers and crayons, please.'

'We'll get them tomorrow,' replied a beaming Kate, her heart swelling with joy for her children.

'Actually, I have a lot I'm not using anymore,' offered Jess. 'If you can wait till tomorrow, Ralph and I can come back with them.'

Liam nodded enthusiastically, 'Yes, I can wait.'

*

THE PAPERS AND THE crayons ...

They would reveal a lot.

The revelation would take them all by the throat, and they're all in it together.

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# 4: Cry of the Heart

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THE NEXT DAY, AS PROMISED, Jess went back to bring her redundant art supplies. Kate readily opened the door this time and made the visitor feel welcome.

The children were beside themselves with excitement at having a visitor bearing gifts. They eagerly awaited to learn what she had brought for them. Jess sat them down on the little table before emptying the contents of the box.

'Japanese tea?' She heard Kate offer as the mother of two pottered in the kitchen.

'That would be lovely,' she replied before turning her attention back to the kids.

'Crayons for you, Liam. Cris, these colouring pencils, art pads, oil paints, and brushes are for you. And, these beginner's art books as well.'

Liam looked on, jealous of the pile of stuff given to his sister.

'Do I get an art pad, too?'

'Better than that,' Jess said with a smile, 'you get a bunch of colouring books.'

Liam went bananas.

'Mom, look, colouring books. Wow.' Then, turning to Jess, he asked. 'Would you do one with me?'

Jess couldn't resist the little boy's charm and indulged him. 'You do that page, and I'll do this page. There's a prize for doing a good job.'

'What's the prize?'

Jess pretended to think hard. She looked at the ceiling, scratched her head and then made a face.

'I can't think of a good prize, can you?'

'I know, the best colourer,' Jess smiled at the made-up word, 'gets to have a tub of ice cream.'

'A tub! I don't think so. What about a cone?'

'A cone will do. Can I have five cones?'

Jess laughed. She rubbed his head and thought that this boy will one day, rule the universe with his natural negotiator-style haggling.

*

KATE WATCHED THEM FROM the kitchen, grateful that the kids had started to feel better. It helped that their apartment now felt and looked like a proper home. Since the fit-out, just over twenty-four hours ago, their sense of security had returned to a degree.

It's the simple things, she thought, even the picture of a teddy bear hanging on the living room wall had brightened their spirits. The sound of bell chimes hanging above the window, a gift from Ralph, dispelled melancholy to a degree.

Her eyes fell upon a tall, thin crystal vase with artificial blooms of mixed flowers sitting proudly on top of a cabinet. Even that had elevated their place from safe house to a home.

For her, however, the soft, deep papa chair covered in a quilted throw had become an emotional refuge. Last night, she cried to sleep while lying on it, hugging a cushion for dear life. Being a mother and a sole protector twenty-four hours a day, every day, had been exhausting. Taxing her emotionally, draining her physically and spiritually. There had been days she thought it might have been better to end it all, but something always forced her to move forward, compelling her and urging her when she had nothing left to give.

The kettle switched off automatically when the water boiled. The popping mechanism brought her back to the present. She made tea, calmly and deliberately.

'Jess, your tea's ready.' Kate called from the kitchen.

'Coming.'

Jess assured Liam that she was coming back to do her bit, before excusing herself.

'Thank you.' Jess sipped her drink. 'This is nice. Jasmine tea?'

Kate nodded, 'Yes, from the Asian market. Jess, thank you ... so much. '

'Don't mention it. It's a small thing. Besides, I wasn't using them anymore.'

Jess paused to scrutinise her new friend.

'So, how are you?' The sincerity in her voice was palpable.

Kate's eyes brimmed with tears, 'Coping, as best I can.' Jess waited for her to continue.

'Yesterday was the first night they both slept through. I think they feel more secure that people care about them.'

Their conversation halted as their gaze fell on Crystal. She was sitting on the floor in a corner, her back against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, the art pad on her lap. Her small hand was gripping the pencil tightly, her muscle tensed with effort.

She was absent-mindedly doodling, going round and round and round on the pad, totally lost in it.

They could see, with every circle she made, her effort was getting harder and heavier. The paper underneath it would be torn all the way through.

Every circular loop she made was like a hole being dug deeper and wider in her mother's heart. In response to the pain, Kate unconsciously brought her hands to her chest, clasping and unclasping them.

Jess' gaze transferred to Kate's hands. They were dainty and veined from the effort of carrying a heavy load, both real and metaphorical.

Tentatively, Jess reached out to touch Kate's arm

'You know we're always gonna be here, right? This is not a one-off.'

Kate met her eyes but remained downcast, lost in her thought. Jess squeezed her hands.

'This is not a one-off,' she repeated.

Kate sniffled.

'I know. Thank you, Jess.'

The young mother shifted her sight back to her children. Liam had discarded one colouring book for another. Like many five-year-old, he couldn't stay on one thing for long. Meanwhile, Crystal was still doodling.

Jess didn't feel it was her place to force the issue. Instead, she finished her cup of tea. Her cup drained, she set it down, 'When you're ready Kate, we're all here to listen and to share your burden.'

Kate nodded, tears now falling freely down her cheeks, 'Thanks, Jess. When I'm ready--'.

There wasn't anything left to say, so Jess hugged her. 'It's good to find someone my size,' she said, the two women being just a smidgen over five feet.

They both smiled.

Kate replied, 'Yeah, finally I don't have to look up.'

*

LIAM HAD HAD ENOUGH of waiting, 'Jess, are you finished with your tea?'

'I am. What have you done? Show me?'

Liam showed off his masterpieces. Jess oh'd and ah'd, 'Well, young man, I'm afraid I can't beat you. You're the winner.'

'Do I get the ice cream cone now?'

'Well, we better ask your Mom. Kate?'

'Next time, Liam. I'm sure Jess has other things to do today. Right, Jess?'

'Yup, I've got to pick up Ralph shortly.'

Liam tilted his head at Jess, 'Is Ralph your boyfriend?'

Jess laughed at the boy who didn't miss a thing, 'Yup, he is. What do you think of him?'

The little boy had his opinion and wasn't afraid to voice it, 'I think he's a good guy. I like his voice a lot, he talks like this, "Hi Liam, you're a good boy," trying his best to speak in baritone.

The women laughed their heads off.

'You're a comedian,' Jess said as she rubbed his head. Then, she got up to get going.

Kate showed her out, 'Thanks again.'

'Don't mention it.' She fished out her business card and gave it to Kate, 'And here's Ralph's too. He said to call him anytime. We're all here for you.'

Kate read the cards. Ralph Curtis, Jr. Assistant Deputy, United States Marshal.

And, Jess' card said, Jessica Kidman, Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs (SMART).

Kate didn't know it yet, but SMART, in this case, wasn't an adjective. It actually stood for Sentencing, Monitoring, Apprehending, Registering, and Tracking, a DOJ's sex offenders program.

Much later, she would find out that young Jessica Kidman, all of ninety-five pounds and 5'1 was a sex offender tracking specialist.

-End of Preview-

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# Bonus Preview

# From a Place of Blood and Tears

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# 1

'I WAAAANT ICE CREAM.'

The youngest of the three Russell girls screamed at the top of her lungs as she threw an almighty tantrum. The four-year-old's voice projection could put Kiwi soprano Kiri Te Kanawa to shame. So, unless something drastic happened, Ally Russell could be the next big opera star.

Shell, the super mom to three headstrong girls, had gone to the supermarket by herself. It was her once-a-month day out without Ally.

Today, it was Dad's turn to oversee the house and the kid--not that tiny Ally minded; Daddy was often easier to deal with than Mommy.

Dad was Lieutenant Kevin 'Kev' Russell.

*

'I WAAAANT ICE CREAM.'

Kev ignored the demanding three-year-old, deliberately. His attention was focused on fixing the family's decade-old people mover. He didn't like the sounds it had been making lately. For months, the brake had been making a nerve-cringing whining sound, and now, there was also an unfamiliar clanking noise coming from underneath the chassis.

Money had been extremely tight in the Russell household, so he has had to be the handyman, mechanic, babysitter, gardener, and occasional entertainer.

He had been a super fit, on-the-fast-track, thirteen-year police veteran; a beat cop who climbed the ranks until he became a Detective with the Major Case Squad. He loved being an investigator; it was his dream job. He loved the chase, the challenge, the mind games, and the smell of fear and sweat when they got close to catching a perp.

Though still a cop and a Lieutenant, now he was "just" a humble public servant in the Property Clerk Division in Brooklyn.

Nearly two years ago, he was reassigned when he was diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson's Disease. There was little he could do about it. The Human Resources Manager said that a backroom role was the most suitable job for him under the circumstances. He had to agree. His illness made working on the frontline untenable.

It was better than nothing and something to be grateful for. He had no choice about it anyway. He was in no position, in financial terms, to refuse the transfer even if he didn't care for the role. Disability benefit wouldn't have been enough to support a family of five.

His police retirement benefit would have been sufficient if he were retiring after twenty years of service. But alas, he was seven years short of the milestone.

Back in the old days, when he was a detective, no day was ever the same. These days, it was a daily grind of "list this," "file that," "box this," and "store that away."

Now, his tasks were repetitive and mundane. There was, however, some occasional excitement like when they opened an evidence box, and a humungous spider crept out followed by a multitude of baby crawlers. Even the bravest of them quickly found a way to get up on the table; only the hilarity that ensued lowered their hypertension.

Though the job was for the most part boring, his co-workers were a laugh-a-minute kind of people so at least he was lucky this way.

*

'I WAAAANT ICE CREAM.'

It was Ally's third attempt to get his attention.

Finally, he relented. He had to.

It's more relaxing to be at work, he sighed.

Kev got out from under the vehicle determined to give the little one a well-deserved reprimand. Whenever Ally did this sort of performance, as her mother called it, she got lots of attention from her family and from the next-door neighbours on both sides, and even the dogs across the street. Sometimes her parents wondered if people thought they were belting her.

He went inside and followed the sound to the kitchen where he chanced upon Ally standing on a stool placed strategically in front of the refrigerator. Bags of frozen peas, corn, and broccoli, and boxes of readymade meals were on the floor.

Shell had purposely hidden the ice cream in the back of the freezer.

Kev looked at his youngest daughter who was a mini-Shell in all but temperament. Shell was sweet and sanguine, while Ally was sweet and choleric. She didn't take any prisoners. If there was one born to lead from the front, it was this firebrand.

He crossed his arms over his chest and asked the bleeding obvious.

'Exactly what are you doing, Ally?'

Her baby-blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she flashed a cute smile. The fast-thinking pre-schooler gave a ready answer.

'I'm cleaning the fridge.'

Kev couldn't believe it.

Ally was caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar, but she wasn't going to admit to any wrongdoing.

He wasn't going to let her get away with it, however.

'Ally, you know in your little head you were not cleaning the fridge.'

The little girl pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her chest mirroring her Dad's stance.

'Well, I was actually,' then she paused for emphasis, 'but if you give me a ice cream we'd have less to clean.'

Kev turned around casually to hide the smile that began to crack on his face. The logic was slightly skewed, but it made sense. He tried his best to hold it together, but Ally knew instinctively that she had the upper hand.

Changing tack, she asked demurely, 'Can I please have a ice cream?'

The way she still says "a" before words that started with vowels melted his heart. It was a small thing, but it told him he still had a little girl; they all grew up so quickly.

'Seriously, Ally, do you know how cold it is today? It's so cold. It's not the time for ice cream.'

'Yes, it is,' she insisted. 'Every day is for ice cream.'

He sighed.

Whose rule was it anyway that children can't have ice cream when it's cold?

He put Ally down; then she helped pick up the frozen bags and boxes of food off the floor.

'Thank you,' he said.

'You're welcome,' she replied, anticipating a reward.

Kev sat her down on the kitchen bench and handed her an ice cream cone. He took one for himself.

They were enjoying their treat when Ally piped up, 'Dad, you are like this ice cream.'

'How's that?' he asked, curious what his youngest was thinking now. Ally had been the surprise package of the family from the word go.

'Cos, you are good for me.'

'Thanks,' he said with a crooked smile.

She followed this up with, 'Can I call you Daddy Ice Cream?'

'I'd like that.'

He mused to himself that he was indeed a Daddy Ice Cream in more ways than one. The main reasons being he was soft to his girls, his heart melted easily, and he tended to be sweet to all of them.

Their drumsticks gone, Kev asked Ally if she wanted to go to the park.

'Yes, Daddy,' she answered with a squeal.

They got on their bikes and cycled to the nearby park. His eyes, ears, and mind were on Ally. He didn't notice a car parked across the street. It had been there since early this morning, since before his two elder daughters were collected by one of the parents in their carpool.

He didn't notice the man sitting in the driver's seat whose eyes were shielded by dark wrap-around shades. He especially didn't note that the SUV had an interstate registration number.

It's just the sort of thing nightmares were made of.

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# 2

THE MYSTERIOUS MAN WATCHED THEM pedal merrily away on their bikes. He had been observing the surroundings and surveilling the house for a couple of hours now.

This was his first time to Laurelton. There were no modern high-rises in this part of New York. It was, rather, a cosy Queens borough that was all about a small-town residential feel.

One could only hope it stays this way; he thought as he waited for an opportunity to get inside the house.

On the drive over, he had passed a couple of places for rent. If he had his chance, he would rent or buy here. It would be a perfect place to raise a family or retire, although those two things were not part of his plans, now or in the near future.

Laurelton, he discovered was his sort of place. Quiet. It was so quiet in fact that there weren't any nightlife hot spots. But though it was far removed from exciting things, it still had a train station with lines running through Queens to Brooklyn and Manhattan, and it was just north of JFK Airport.

When he could no longer see Kev and Ally in his rear-view mirror, he casually got out of the vehicle and walked towards the house carrying an attache case. Any nosy neighbours would think he was someone returning from a business trip; this was why he did his kind of job in a suit.

It didn't matter what time of day it is, a businessman coming home was far less conspicuous.

The house, he was certain, was unoccupied.

He'd seen the two older girls in their public school uniforms leave at 08:00; followed by their mother half an hour later. And just then, the last two occupants had cycled away.

The Rottweiler across the street had been barking intermittently, yet no barking reply came from the Russell's residence. He ascertained that the family didn't have a pet dog. This reduced potential complications to nil.

He required at least an hour to do what he came to do. He surmised that Kev and Ally were off to the park, or maybe to a corner shop. Whatever they intended to do he was sure that he would have plenty of time.

He had developed a sixth sense of timing after doing what he did for a living over several years. He had never been caught out. And, even if they were to come back unexpectedly, he was sure-footed enough to get the hell out without leaving a trace.

To his experienced eyes, the double locks on the front door were easy picks.

This was a modest abode in a middle-class borough where the nastiest villainy that happened on a regular basis were bored teenagers vandalising mailboxes. Most homeowners didn't think of securing their properties beyond installing regular locks.

He set his case down, double-checked that his flesh-coloured gloves were fitted perfectly before taking out his keyring. Anyone watching would think he was using his keys to get in, except it was a lockpick.

He was in within seconds.

*

THE PARK WAS DESERTED.

Kev and Ally leaned their bikes on the bench nearest to the swing.

Ally ran to the play equipment bursting with excitement.

'Push me, Daddy,' she said in a high-pitched voice.

Kev obliged her, delighted to hear her happy squeals.

'Higher,' she demanded. The fearless little dynamo wasn't satisfied until she was almost parallel to the ground.

*

THE MYSTERY MAN'S CURSORY TOUR OF THE HOUSE revealed an open-plan living and an eat-in kitchen that led to a small backyard through a sliding door that needed a good clean. The lower half was covered in greasy fingerprints while dust covered the rest.

He checked out the tiny backyard. It was exclusively the kids' domain. There was nothing in it that an adult would fancy, not even a potted rose bush.

Near the fence, a sandbox was littered with toys. Close to it, a foldable chair was left lying on its side.

A lone maple tree, bare of its leaves being deciduous, has a seat-swing tied to it. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to imagine three little girls swinging on it. He could almost hear their laughter as he envisaged them clambering up at once, each urging it to sway one way or the other.

There wasn't much to see, so he turned his attention to the interior.

The nineties house was somewhat dated but homely. It was painted in a soft shade of green, a relaxing hue.

On the wall, above the three-seater sofa, there was a quote. The stick-on wall decor said: Live every moment, laugh every day, love beyond words.

He read it again and decided he couldn't relate; he didn't do any of them. He only lived for the moment, laughed rarely, and didn't love beyond himself.

He continued his visual inspection without touching. There were a toilet and a bathroom with a shower and a half-sized bath. It was just big enough for one kid at a time.

A utility room, only slightly bigger than a cupboard, was next door.

Upstairs, there was a master bedroom. The furniture here was basic and dated. Everything on the king-size bed was white, but a pair of yellow flat teddy bears on top of the pillows broke the monotony.

There was a tallboy in the far-right corner; he opened the top drawer. It contained her underwear.

The built-in closet didn't appear to be large enough for two people to share. He opened it and discovered that Mr. and Mrs. Russell didn't own many clothes.

Opposite the master bedroom were two smaller rooms separated by a humble "Jack and Jill" toilet that had three-way doors; it enabled all of them to use it.

Ally shared her room with her mother's sewing machine, and arts and craft stuff. Her tiny pink bed was shaped like a fairy tale carriage; a fluffy comforter covered the mattress. Beside it was a rocking chair; an unfinished crochet project rested on the seat.

In a corner, a tall shelf was home to a few well-loved soft toys that needed to be repaired. It also housed repurposed jars containing buttons, needles, and threads. There was a wooden box separated by compartments that had assorted zippers, laces, and ribbons. Everything here was in its proper place.

The two older ones, fraternal twins, shared a room. The bunk bed was cute. It was hand-painted pink and decorated with stick-on decals of owls and trees.

The mom has good taste.

*

'I WANNA GET OFF, DADDY.'

Kev grabbed both sides of the seat to stop the swing.

Ally quickly slid off and ran to the seesaw next.

'Daddy, sit on the other side.'

Kev did as she asked. Ally soon found herself up high unable to get down no matter how hard she tried.

'Come on, try harder.'

She leaned back. Her face contorted as she went 'Argh' to her Dad's amusement. She exhausted herself straining.

'Okay,' Kev finally said. 'Ready. Hang tight. Go.'

He pushed with his legs, so he was propelled up, and Ally came down. They did this a couple of times until she decided she had enough of the one-way seesaw.

She went to play in the cubby house. She climbed the ropes to get to the top and then slippery-dipped down the slide.

Kev watched her go up and down several times.

*

HIS INSPECTION COST him precious minutes. Now, he must do everything fast.

He had to fit five cameras and listening devices in the house. Seven would have been optimum, but he couldn't bear the thought of installing cameras in the bathrooms, not when there were three innocent girls involved. However, as a compromise, he hid listening devices behind the mirrors above the sink.

He worked efficiently.

For him, installing surveillance gadgetry wasn't just a technical job. Over the years, he had turned it into an art-form. His finished job couldn't be noticed even under scrutiny. The only way his handiwork could be discovered would be by using an electronic detector.

An hour later, he had one thing left to do--make sure everything was exactly where they had left them. He inspected every inch of the place to make sure nothing was out of place. Absolutely no one must suspect he had been in the house.

With this sort of clandestine activity, all it could take to get busted is an outline of dust for people to suspect something isn't right. The devil is always in the small details.

*

HIS CELL PHONE WENT OFF; Kev was momentarily distracted.

It was his former partner-in-crime, Detective Raquel 'Rock' Camins. Her tanned and finely-lined face had lit up the screen.

He answered with mock dismay, 'What do you want?'

The last time they spoke was about two months ago. They had tried their hardest to keep in touch, but their respective careers and family duties didn't make it easy for them to find the time.

'What could I possibly need from someone with the shakes?' Rock half-jokingly replied.

Parkinson's Disease was a sensitive subject, but with Rock, Kev was able to deal with it with a degree of nonchalance. The truth was, it was better to accept its reality than tiptoe around it as though it weren't there. It didn't disappear just because it wasn't acknowledged.

In fact, it was harder for him when people pretended they didn't know.

Kev told her to shut her mouth.

Rock laughed.

'Anyway, Kev, my man. It's Clark's graduation party this Saturday; we'd like you guys to be there. It's short notice I know, but I've been so busy I keep forgetting to call.'

'Man, time flies.'

He could remember when Clark was five and still in kindergarten.

'... Course we'll be there. I'm off this Saturday,' he said, then added, 'even if I get called to work, you can expect my girls to still be there.'

Their conversation later shifted to "Curly," Rock's newest partner.

In the eighteen months since Kev moved to the Property Division, Rock had gone through three partners.

When Rock and Curly were first paired off, their co-workers had a bet that newbie detective Carl Curlewis wouldn't last three months. But six months on and he was still around. At last! It seemed like Rock had found her match.

'Guess what he did the other day?' Rock asked.

'What?'

'He found some strobe lights in a junk shop the other day and rigged them up in the sergeant's office. The next day, when Norman switched the lights on, Saturday Night Fever and the strobe lights came on. We laughed our heads off, but Sarge was pissed off.'

'Did he get in trouble?'

'Sarge put him on coffee shop run for three months.'

Mid-conversation, Kev turned to check that their bikes were still where they had left them.

They were.

Ally was not in his line of sight for less than five seconds when he turned again; she was gone.

His heart dropped to his stomach.

Sensing trouble, Rock asked, 'Kev, you still there?'

Kev replied, this time his voice was higher a notch, and there was an audible sigh of relief.

'Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, for a second there I thought Ally disappeared. I better get her home. Speak to you later.'

They hung up.

Kev whistled.

Ally ran to him in haste.

*

THE MAN WAS DONE.

Before leaving the premises, he called an anonymous person to check that the gadgets were working.

They were, he was told.

The man on the other end of the line added, 'You should reposition the camera above the eldest daughters' bed.

'Fuck off,' he replied with disdain.

'Watch your mouth; you're just a freelancer.'

'That's right, if you're not happy with my job, get someone else.'

He closed the phone in anger. He hated this part of the job, but if he didn't do it someone else would and it could be a lot worse.

On his way out, his eyes fell on those words again: Live every moment, laugh every day, love beyond words.

He shrugged, whatever.

*

PEDALLING WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD, Kev and Ally passed the man with dark wrap-around shades as he was driving away.

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# 3

KEV LED ALLY INSIDE, none the wiser that they were being watched.

They took off their outside shoes and left them by the door then went to the kitchen to get a drink. Playing in the park made them very thirsty.

He filled Ally's favourite Disney cup with apple juice, screwed the top on and stuck a well-chewed straw in it before giving it to her. Shell would be disappointed with him if she ever finds out he'd taken their daughter to the park without a water bottle.

As he gulped down a mouthful of water, Kev remembered the laundry. This morning, Shell had told him that he must take them out of the dryer.

'Hang your shirts and pants and fold the rest,' she had said on auto-repeat. 'Preferably, while they're still warm so I don't have to iron out the wrinkles.'

But first things first.

He made his specialty lunch, toasted ham and cheese sandwich. He set a plate for Ally on the table and left her there to feed herself.

He took his sandwich to the utility room.

Attempting to multi-task, he tried not to leave crumbs on them as he ate with one hand while sorting three baskets of clothes.

*

MEANWHILE, IN HIS APARTMENT, the freelancer who went by the name "Joe" was watching the unfolding domestic scene at the Russell household.

His huge monitor looked more like a wide television screen.

He propped his feet on the table as he munched on Pringles, mulling to himself. He knew he shouldn't do this. He never had, until now. Ordinarily, he did a job and got paid for it; that was the end of it. But, for some reason, there was something about this job that didn't sit right with him.

Maybe it's because children are involved that I feel uneasy?

Or, maybe, he was just stupid, for once.

He was aware that he was breaking his cardinal rule: Don't get involved.

It was the one basic principle that had helped him survive in this business for close to seven years.

*

KEV WAS FOLDING THE last of the girls' school T-shirts when the landline rang. He rushed to get it, thinking it was Shell checking on them. His right hand shook a little as he lifted the receiver. He silently cursed the disease that made even the most ordinary task an ordeal.

'Shell, we're okay,' he said straight away. The quicker he could assure her, the sooner he could take his pills. He was silly for leaving it too long.

'Oh, sweet,' said a male voice.

Kev was taken aback but quickly regained his composure.

'Who's this?' he asked.

'You'll never know,' said the man on the phone. He sounded eerily relaxed; his voice cold.

'For now, this is all you need to know: Cooperate, or you'll be dead. Don't ask your buddies for help. I've got you tapped at home and at work so don't even think about it.'

Kev listened attentively. Somehow, he was convinced that it had to be a joke. Someone in the precinct had to be playing a prank on him.

Then the caller said, 'Excuse me" before coughing to clear his throat, 'Pardon me. Now, where were we?'

He has impeccable manners, Kev thought.

'Oh, just to prove my point, your daughter, her name is Ally, right? Right now, she's messing with her mother's sewing stuff.'

Shocked that the caller knew his daughter's name, Kev dropped the phone and rushed to the bedroom. Ally had tipped Shell's neatly organised craft baskets onto the floor.

He grabbed her and rushed back to the phone with a sense of urgency.

'Who are you?' he yelled; agitation now evident in his voice.

'As I said, you'll never ever find out. If you ever do, I'll have to kill you.'

'What do you want?'

'Patience, Kev. Patience.'

The line disconnected.

Though unnerved, the sleuth in him tried to think whether he had heard the voice before and if so, where?

He has Parkinson's Disease, so his memory could be unreliable at times, mainly as a side-effect of his medication. But he was certain he had not heard this voice before. The caller was someone he wasn't acquainted with.

The only thing obvious was the man's Boston accent which didn't help. This was New York, after all.

He felt numb, though his limbs were shaking involuntarily.

*

HIS STUDIO HAD BEEN OUTFITTED with numerous monitors all connected to various places of interest. With a sense of detachment, Joe, the freelancer, watched the call happen and heard Kev's part of the conversation.

He continued to watch with interest as Kev tried to take his pills; his hands were shaking uncontrollably. The tremor caused one of the tablets to fall to the ground.

Ally quickly picked it up.

'I'll give it to you, Daddy,' she said.

Kev knelt, opened his mouth and Ally popped it in. He dry-swallowed them.

'That wasn't too hard,' she said, smiling, pleased with herself.

There was something about seeing that sweet gesture that stabbed Joe in the heart.

He saw Kev nod lamely; Ally came forward to give her Dad a hug.

'Don't be upset, Daddy.'

Just then, Kev and Ally both turned in the direction of the front door.

'Mommy,' said Ally.

Joe had enough.

He wasn't taking any pleasure in this voyeuristic activity. He didn't even like to watch Big Brother, and that was reality viewing with consent.

He decided he would only check in occasionally. He went to the kitchen to fix himself a drink, leaving the couple to have their moment.

*

KEV FELT HIS HEART ACHE A LITTLE MORE; not only had he caused his family hardship with his disease, but now there was this mysterious misery to add to their already topsy-turvy lives.

'Come,' said Ally who pulled him to his feet.

He was rising when Shell came in with two bags of groceries.

She set them down on the kitchen bench before giving them each a hug.

'There's a few more in the car,' she said, sounding tired. Shopping for five on a shoestring budget was exhausting. She couldn't just buy any goods without first checking the prices and seeing whether she had coupons for them, or whether they were on sale elsewhere.

Wouldn't it be nice, she often thought, to be able to get anything they needed without first checking the price?

*

KEV AND SHELL WALKED OUT TOGETHER.

As they were getting the groceries, Kev told Shell that they were being watched.

'What do you mean?' she asked casually, not getting the extent of their predicament.

She grabbed a couple of brown paper bags from the trunk and handed them to Kev.

'So, who's supposed to be watching us?'

She looked around; there was no one she could see.

'They're watching us with cameras. They've also bugged the house. I don't think they've installed one out here, but I'm not sure,' Kev whispered.

Shell stared at her husband for a second.

Could it be the pills? Are they making him paranoid?

'Don't look at me like I'm crazy,' Kev said, seeing his wife's disbelief.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to ... what do you mean bugged the house? How do you know?'

'They called.'

'What?'

'They called!'

It was Kev's alarmed facial expression that informed her to take him seriously.

'Then we should leave.'

'It's not that easy. If we try to do anything, talk to anyone, or attempt to move, they'll kill us.'

'Did the caller say that?'

'No, Shell, I'm guessing,' he replied with sarcasm as frustration got the better of him. Catching himself he apologised, then admitted, 'Yes, he did, in so many words.'

'Who was it?'

'I don't know.'

Terrified, yet also still in disbelief, Shell asked Kev, 'What are we going to do?'

'I don't know ... yet.'

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# 4

JOE'S INEXPENSIVE STUDIO was on Canarsie, a borough of Brooklyn, just a few minutes' walk from the Rockaway Parkway subway station, convenient for someone like him who, by choice, often moved around by public transport.

It was fortuitous how he came upon it.

He was eating lunch at a cheap diner when he overheard a man lament to the waitress, 'I can't even afford the rent in this place anymore.'

He didn't usually engage in conversation with strangers. The truth was, he didn't engage in conversations, full stop. Yet this time, he felt the urge to inquire, 'Where are you renting?'

The man, mid-thirties in his estimation, had said, 'Not far from here, close to the subway station.'

The fact that it was close to mass transport piqued his interest. He asked to be shown the apartment. The guy who said his name was Colin took him to the rental studio for an inspection.

He didn't expect much, but it was surprisingly still freshly renovated and located on the fifth floor of a quiet building. It turned out to be a steal at thirteen hundred per calendar month. He liked it instantly, so without much ado, he offered to take over the lease and pay the rent arrears if there were any.

Colin didn't have to think about it too hard. The offer was too good to refuse. It meant being able to get out of his rental contract, have his rental arrear covered and get his security deposit back.

*

JOE'S SERVICES COULD only be obtained via the dark web.

His expertise was bugging people in the most clandestine manner, not exactly legal, but then none of his contractors were fussed about legalities.

His clients only knew him as "The Freelancer," and he only knew them by their usernames. Supposedly.

But someone with vast technical and hacking abilities, like him, always has a way of knowing whom they're dealing with, "for insurance."

*

JOE HAD BEEN A WARD OF THE STATE from age twelve to sixteen.

By law, he should have been in foster care until he was eighteen, but through the support and advocacy of Florida Cruz, his social worker, he got his independence much earlier.

She had taken him under her wings from the start. The only thing she could have done more was to adopt him. In the end, it was a bit of formality neither of them needed to know they belonged to each other as mother and son.

Two years ago, Florida passed away.

With his record sealed, there was no one alive who knew his identity. He just went about his everyday life as Joe.

He had always reckoned that the name was fitting.

"Joe Doe" would be the name on his tombstone.

Presently, he existed as a ghost.

The lease on the apartment was taken out in the name of a stolen identity. He kept no bank account and had no credit or debit card. Without any proof of income, he got the apartment by paying the rent a year in advance and had been doing so ever since.

He didn't have a driver's license either. But this inconvenient fact hadn't stopped him from driving to a job or "borrowing" a car.

He conceded that sooner or later this had to change. Very soon, he would need proper identification, so he could use the Bitcoin ATM.

He thought a passport could come in handy, too. To travel, maybe.

It was in 2009 when he turned sixteen that someone called Satoshi Nakamoto introduced Bitcoin to the world.

The year the first decentralised cryptocurrency became a thing, he also came into his own. Bitcoin was to become his salvation.

With no money to his name, he ghost-mined for them using an antiquated computer Florida gave him. It was old and clunky, but it did the job. Back in the day, when Bitcoin was just a novelty item, one could mine them with an old desktop if the CPU was in working order.

Mining Bitcoins was expensive as it required a lot of power, so he taught himself how to tap electricity from the grid.

The internet, he learned early on, could teach one anything.

Then, at seventeen and eight days old, he began work as a freelancer getting paid in Bitcoins.

For him, it was a double win. It was tax-free income, and it kept increasing in value by leaps and bounds.

Through the years, he paved his way through everyday life using the electronic currency system. He had not looked back since.

--------

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Connecting independent readers to independent writers.
Did you love _The Violinist and the Ballerina_? Then you should read _Geeks in Love_ by Angelin Sydney!

This surprising romance novella between two geeks is adorable, to say the least.

Nathaniel Levy, aka Eraser, works for the Government: The Federal Reserve Bank of America specifically. Here, he meets Millie, the woman of his dreams.

The problem is she is his boss and that's not the only complication; she is also ten years older than him.

When someone tries to harm Millie, Eraser comes to the rescue, but he isn't the hero-type. Oh, yes, the complications keep mounting.

 _Through all the challenges_ , _will they eventually find love?_

Read more at Angelin Sydney's site.

# About the Author

Before becoming a full-time author, Angelin Sydney was one of the most prolific contributors to fanfiction and fictionpress where her compelling style of story-telling had strong followings.

She was a journalist for a daily business paper in the Philippines.

Since moving to Australia many years ago, she has had numerous incarnations. She was a banker, insurance seller, housing loan broker, home-stay mother to hundreds of international students, small business operator, casual kitchen hand and a nanny. She's really been around.

Her most consistent role, however, is being a mother to four wonderful people. Sadly, one of them has gone ahead, leaving her to write stories to help others to heal, laugh, hope, and continue to dream.

In all honesty, the only thing active about her is her imagination. It is as fertile as the rice fields of the Philippines where she was born.

 **About Her Stories**

They are original, funny, swoon-worthy, and thrilling to the core. She's the self-styled queen of romantic comedy and romantic thriller.

Follow her on Twitter: @Angelin_Sydney

and

Instagram: writingangel

Read more at Angelin Sydney's site.
