Dawn Redeemed

"Ok, Mom!" Fallon waggled her fingers and released the firefly into the air. She trotted to wiggle between her mother and Torr, breaking their intertwined fingers apart. Once they were satisfactorily separated, she skipped a few paces ahead.

"Don't cross the street without us," Erica warned. The neighborhood was settling in for the night. Houses glowed with the warmth of lamplight shining through their windows, sounds of televisions and clanking supper dishes wafted from the screened windows, open to let the cool evening breeze filter inside. Sometimes, she had trouble forgetting that she wasn't in D.C. anymore. Instinctively, she reached out to grab Fallon's hand before moving off the curb.

"Mom, I'm not a baby," Fallon grumbled. The street was empty, only parked cars lined the curbs. She knew to look both ways before stepping into the street. Her mother's overly protective gesture had embarrassed her in front of Torr. "I can cross the street by myself," she said defensively, "I know when its safe."

Erica let go of Fallon's hand and locked her fingers into the neckline of her t-shirt, "Humor me." Erica checked both ways for traffic and nudged her daughter off the curb.

Torr returned Fallon's bemused smirk and crossed the street behind them. Apparently, he wasn't the only one concerned with Erica and Fallon's safety. He didn't know the vampires well enough to identify but a few by their scent. This one's scent carried on the wind like the smell of a freshly baked cake left on a rack to cool, faint and sweet, nothing more than a whisper underneath the layers of humanity around them. He focused his vision on the thick branches of the trees towering over them and on the gentle slopes of the rooftops, although he could smell the vampire, he couldn't see him. Vampires, like their scents, were like dark shadows in the whispering wind.

Instinctively, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, and he detected the faint scent of wolf musk on his skin. He gave a last glance over his shoulder as they rounded the corner. The coffee lights from the coffee shop shone onto the sidewalk, cutting back the dimness. Inside a few teenagers slurping out of white paper cups gathered around a table. Erica's car sat exactly where they'd left it yesterday. Not adding to or taking away from the genteel shabbiness of Main Street.

Torr crouched down, resting his weight on his knee. The sidewalk beneath him bit into his skin through his jeans. He swallowed awkwardly, unsure of how to draw the evening with Fallon to a close, "Fallon, I'm glad you know the truth about us. I know that for as long as you remember, its just been you and your mom. I'm not trying to come between the two of you. You don't have to call me dad, if you don't want to. I'll understand. I hope that we can eventually have a good father-daughter relationship, but I'm ok with just being your friend. If that's what you want. I would like to see you again, soon."

Fallon appreciated that Torr dropped low enough that he could look her straight in the eye. So many adults didn't. They assumed that kids didn't know enough to see the deeper meaning hidden in someone's eyes. Fallon could. His eyes were as brilliantly blue, like the pretty stones she saw behind a jewelry counter once, as her own. They had the same dimple in their chin. Gingerly, she reached out and pressed her index finger into the cleft. Rough, dark stubble scraped against her skin. "Me too." Hesitantly, unsure of herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a timid hug.

Torr gently squeezed her back and released her. His heart pounded as if he'd been running for miles. His little girl. His fingers ran along the braided leather chain around his neck and clasped the silver wolf dangling from it. He rose to his feet and closed the car door behind Fallon. He walked around to the driver's side and rested one hand on the roof of the car and the other on the open door, pinning Erica.

Erica blushed and stood on her tiptoes, giving Torr a shy, embarrassed peck on the cheek. She'd never kissed a man in front of Fallon before. She felt awkward and self-conscious even though the kiss was as platonic as she could muster. "Good night, Torr," she said, ducking into the driver's seat and buckling up. The air in the car was stiflingly hot from sitting beneath the bright springtime sun all day. Fallon had already rolled down her window and was panting exaggeratedly. "Well...," she said uncomfortably.

Torr took the hint and tapped his fist lightly on the hood of the car, "Good night, you two. Be safe." He stepped back from the car and made his way to the curb as Erica pulled away. A smile spread across his face as Fallon with her crimson curls blowing in the breeze stuck her arm out and gave him a quick, shy wave. He returned Fallon's gesture and caught Erica's glance briefly in the rearview mirror before she braked and rounded the corner.





Chapter 43

Torr felt too good to sit alone in his empty house and stare at the four walls. Instead, he crossed the street and walked into the bar for a drink. Even the casual, impersonal company of strangers was still company. He wanted to shout from the rooftops and tell the whole world, strangers and all, that he had a daughter. He settled for an empty stool at the end of the bar and a tall, cold glass of draft on tap.

He sat back and watched the sparse crowd, loosely gathered at the pool table and scattered here and there in bunches around the pool table. Some cheesy country song drawled over the speakers in a drawn out nasal twang of voice and steel guitar. Cigarette smoke drifted around the low hanging lights suspended from chains in a thin, wispy, mist. The clack of pool balls striking one another blended with the light conversation and the sounds occasional drunken laughter from the tables.

The beer went down smooth and easy, spreading a warmth through out his limbs. He sat the empty glass on the bar and motioned to order another.

"I'll pick up the tab for that," a feminine voice said from behind him, flipping a ten onto the bar.

Torr spun in his stool, following the voice and the unmistakable scent. "Jan?" Seeing her took him back to another place and time. He'd been a different person then. One who had almost sacrificed it all to please his father. Jan was to be his wife by pack law. And he would have married her. They would not have had the children his father demanded, but he would have married her just the same. If only to see a hint of pride on his father's face, for once, when he looked at him. "How have you been?"

Jan shrugged and smiled. "Good, you?" So much about Torr had changed since the last time she saw him in person, shortly after he and his mother were rescued from Texas and came here. At first, she'd hated Torr for injuring Thomas, almost killing him. After a lot of soul searching and long nights, she'd let it go. She had no right to hate him. No right to judge and condemn him. Torr's redemption had been hard earned. And how he suffered, she could not even begin to imagine the ways. Forgiveness was so much easier than carrying around the white hot hatred she'd fostered for him. After all, they were bound so much tighter than blood or family ties, they were pack.

Torr nodded and returned the smile. "Great." He was happy for Jan and the way her life had turned out. The risks she'd taken had paid off. Jan found the love of her life and had the husband of her dreams and a beautiful dark eyed baby girl. So much more than the life she would have had if she'd given in and accepted what others had planned for her If she'd married him instead. Torr respected Jan and what she fought to achieve. He was glad that she'd finally found it and had her happy life. How could he ever begrudge anyone their happiness?

"Great? I don't think I've ever heard you use that word in reference to yourself," Jan said studying him curiously. "Let's get a table. I want to hear all about it." She patted her purse with a grin. " And I've got baby pictures, lots and lots of baby pictures."

Torr gripped the cold glass of beer in his hand. "I'd love to see them." He wound his way through the randomly placed tables and clumps of people to follow Jan to a dark booth in the corner.

Jan smiled at Torr's hesitation to sit in a dark corner with her. "Mom's night out," she explained. "Thomas doesn't have call tonight and I've got to get out of the house and have an intelligent conversation with an adult, someone who is not my husband, mother, sister, or my mother in law, once in a while."

Torr slid into the booth and stared across the dark grained table at Jan. "Sounds reasonable." He took a long drink off his beer as Jan sipped on a glass of iced tea. He waited patiently while Jan dug through her duffel bag sized purse and pulled out a small brag book, stuffed to the point of explosion with baby pictures.

Jan looked down at the pictures, explaining every snapshot of her baby girl in great detail. She imagined that Torr was actually bored stiff, but he endured, thumbing through the pages with timid fingers. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Torr agreed, Barbara Eloise had Jan's delicate cheek bones and mouth and Thomas's hard set angular jaw. "What's it like?" He asked, turning a page, staring down at the happy couple, faces alight with proud smiles, holding their baby girl.

"What?"

"Being a mother? A parent? Coming home every night to someone?" He looked up and gently closed the album. "Knowing someone loves you more than they love themselves? Knowing he's there, not because he has something to gain, but simply because he loves you?" Torr shifted in the seat and pulled out his wallet. He slid a picture from its plastic holder and pushed it across the table to Jan with his finger.

"Who's this?" Jan asked, holding the picture in her fingers.

"My daughter."

Jan handed the picture back to Torr, dumbfounded. The girl in the picture was about ten years-old. And more than that Jan had seen her around town with her mom. "Did you know?"

"I did. You know why I couldn't risk contacting her until now."

"Yes, I do. I understand. It must have been hell for you not being able to see her. You asked me what it was like to be a mother. It's the most scary and wonderful thing I've ever experienced. Have you met her yet?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Fallon is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, both her and her mother. Jan, I love them."

"Wow," Jan exhaled the word and sat back in the booth. Torr did not say things he didn't mean nor did he take the meaning of his words lightly. "Do they know?"

"No, not yet. I don't know how to tell them," Torr answered, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Thomas and I found a way to make it work. Sometimes its tough, but it can be done. If you love them and if they love you. Together, you'll find a way to make it work. The hardest things often have the biggest reward. If you want it, you can do it." Jan knew first hand how difficult the road Torr had chosen would be. Her marriage was not without its difficulties, but then again, what marriage was? Whenever two people tried to live as a singular unit. There were compromises and sacrifices to be made. Jan supposed that how ever difficult her relationship with Thomas had been at first. She had it easier than Torr. Thomas was a human, hip deep into the supernatural. She had little to explain. The hardest part had been getting him over himself. Getting him to accept what she was and what their children could become. Erica didn't have a clue. To her, werewolves and vampires were the stuff of horror movies and Halloween costumes, not reality.

"I want this Jan, I really, really do."

Jan slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder and slid out of the booth. "I hope it works out, Torr." She bent over Torr to give him a reassuring hug and instead reached out to brush a wayward lock of hair from his eyes. His hair was thick and lush between her fingers, she gave it a gentle tug and lifted his face to meet her eyes. Torr had spent his whole life in fear and misery. He deserved so much better. "You deserve to be happy."

Torr watched Jan walk away from the table. She was every bit as shapely and beautiful as she'd ever been. But, she wasn't the one who had his attention. No woman had been able to do that since the day he'd met Erica. A nice, firm butt and curvy hips only went so far with him. He was a done man as far any other woman was concerned.

He turned his full attention back to his beer, nursing it along. Jan said he deserved to be happy. What was happiness and when was the last time he'd ever truly been happy? Maybe once or twice, when his mother was still alive and he was just a pup. Back when he was too young to realize the fate that his father had in store for him and too naïve to comprehend the degree to which his father hated him.

The only other time he'd even had the faintest glimmer of happiness or hope had been when he held his daughter for the first time earlier today. Then, and when Erica was in his arms. They made him happy. With them, he felt complete. Whether he deserved the happiness they gave him or not. He was a poor judge of that. He wanted it, every bit of love they could give, but deserve it? Not quite. Not yet. If they loved him once he told them the awful truth about himself. Then maybe he could consider himself worthy. Love and happiness were as foreign of concepts as fatherhood. He didn't know how. And throughout his whole lifetime, there'd been damned few to teach him.

He finished his beer and sat the empty glass on the table. The bar was clearing out for the night and only a few die hard stragglers were left. Torr slid out of the booth and fished a five out of his wallet to leave for a tip. He was tired. The lightness he'd felt only a couple of hours ago left him feeling heavier than he ever had before. Weighted down by the secret that he carried and the burden of what he knew he had to do. Maybe, Jan was right. He did deserve to be loved and if Erica and Fallon loved him half as much as he loved them. They'd find a way to sort this whole mess out and make something good out of it.

The night air had cooled down considerably since the sun had sank below the horizon. Torr stifled the chill that goose pimpled his arms. The town around him was quiet. Citizens safely secured behind locked doors, preparing to snuggle down in warm beds for the night. His boot steps echoed on the sidewalk, filling the silence with the sound of his rhythmic gait. His home would be quieter still, deafening in its empty quiet. There was only one place he wanted to be. Only two people he wanted to be with. Jogging, he felt clumsy and noisy with his boots pounding against the concrete. He couldn't be with them, but he knew another that could.

Erica slid the car into park and turned off the ignition. She spent a few minutes, just sitting there, gazing at Fallon. The excitement of the day had been too much for Fallon and she'd fallen fast asleep on the drive home. Cinnamon tinted lashes fluttered over her pale cheeks like butterfly wings. Fallon's face was relaxed, her tiny lips curled into an O as she dreamed. Erica wished she was strong enough to lift and carry her little girl inside, dreaming in the safety of her arms, but those days had come and gone. Fallon wasn't big, but most likely trying to balance her weight would send them both sprawling on the white rock drive. Gently, she stroked Fallon's cheek. "Fallon, wake up, we're home." Slowly, Fallon's eyelids, heavy with sleep, opened.

Looking into those blue eyes, so much like Torr's. Erica didn't question if she'd done the right thing by introducing Fallon to her father. Deep down inside she knew she had. Fallon had a child's good natured curiosity about the man who was her father, understandably so. Erica had always been evasive and illusive when answering Fallon's questions. Volunteering only the minimum of information, nothing more than what was required to satisfy the question. She couldn't imagine what Fallon was thinking. After ten years of pat answers how Fallon felt about finally meeting her father. There hadn't been time for them to talk privately after she'd broken the news to her daughter.

Cautiously, Erica opened the front door and poked her head inside. If her aunt and uncle were still feuding, she was sending Fallon straight to bed and going there herself. The living room was dark, except for the blue glow and soft monotone whispering of the TV. Uncle Alexander snored lightly in his recliner while Aunt Leigh sat on the couch, so absorbed in the program flickering on the screen that she barely noticed them come in. Snickering, Erica wondered who had won the great coffee debate. She wasn't one to kick a hornet's nest for the hell of it. She'd find out when she had her first cup in the morning.

Fallon giggled as her uncle snorted away and glanced up from his nap. Gingerly, she blew him a kiss on her way to the bathroom. Her aunt's eyes flicked up from the television screen long enough to waggle her fingers at her in a wave. Fallon was relieved that her aunt and uncle weren't fighting anymore. Tiredly, she opened her mouth and yawned all the way down to her toes. The energy she'd gotten from eating all that sugar was spent. Wearily, she grabbed her nightgown off the hook on the door and closed it tight behind her. Automatically, she brushed her teeth and peeled off her dirty clothes, tossing them in the hamper behind her.

Fallon stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out who she looked like the most. Did she look more like her mom or her dad? Shrugging, she gave up. She looked like herself, only Fallon and nobody else. Opening the door, she padded across the hall to her room and hopped into the bed. Soon, her mom would come and tuck her in. The same way she had every night for as long as Fallon could remember. Lying back on the pillows, she tried to imagine what it would be like to have her dad tuck her in instead. Would he tighten the covers snugly around her with his big hands and tousle her curls with his long fingers playfully? Would she smell the sharp musk and woodsy scent of him and see the necklace, the silver wolf dangling from its chain, as he bent to give her a peck on the cheek?

Erica eased down onto the edge of Fallon's bed and began to idly pick at a worn edge of the quilt. That same quilt had been on the bed when she was Fallon's age and for every summer that she could remember. "Do you like him?"

Fallon smiled and nodded, "He's my dad. I want to love him." She scooted up and leaned against the headboard. "Do you like him, mom?"

Erica nodded nervously and felt the heat of a blush beginning to spread across her cheeks. "I do." The breath she held eased between her parted lips. She'd been dreading asking Fallon that question. She had been so focused on their introduction that she hadn't thought of what she would have done if Fallon hadn't accepted him as her father. "It'll take some time for you two to get to know each other better, but I think, no ...I'm glad you've got the chance. My dad died when I was a baby. I never knew him."

"Did you love him anyway?" Fallon asked. Her mom rarely talked about grandpa. Grandma had shown her a few old tattered snapshots faded with time before she died, but she always got so sad that Fallon stopped asking to see them.

"I would like to think that if we'd gotten the chance we would have been best friends. I don't know how you can miss someone that you never knew, but sometimes, I miss him." She smiled and shifted her weight on the bed. The coolness of the night called for an extra blanket. Standing, she unfolded the quilt and tucked it snugly around Fallon till she was wrapped as tightly as a butterfly in its cocoon. Once Erica was satisfied that Fallon was tucked in, she sat back on the bed. "Do you really like going to school with Marianne and the other kids?"