Текст книги "Lovers and Reprisals"

Автор книги: Lori Turner

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

She was nearly at the door, when Morpheus crossed the room to stop her.  A roar of voices cautioned him.  Raal’s voice was louder than Mikita’s

“Morpheus...let her go.  We can do this at another time.”

“Raal is right Morpheus.  If she has plans, it might be something important to her.”

Bolden didn’t chime in–mainly because his feelings mirrored his sister’s.

Morpheus grabbed hold to Fawn’s arm.  She spun around to face him.  Rage colored her face when she said...

“You can’t make us a family just because that’s the way you want it.  You can’t treat us like we’re cogs in your mighty Gustafson’s machine.  This is one situation that you can’t fix just because you are Morpheus Gustafson.  We aren’t your puppets.”

Morpheus glared at his daughter, and he wanted to strike her because she knew how to wound and rip at his gut.  He wanted to rant a string of curses, and he would have had it not been for Mikita.  She had a way about her that was as soothing as a stream.

“Morpheus...release her.”

He felt the fingers on his hand tighten, and Fawn’s arm trembled due to his strength.  He’d never hit her, although there had been countless close calls, but something had always stifled his anger.  A thought from her childhood or an image of her when she was a little girl.  He loved her but he couldn’t abide the triggers that sparked her uproarious nature.  He was her father–he was in control; she understood this.  But this knowledge didn’t squelch her challenges.

Morpheus didn’t have placating verbiage in his vocabulary arsenal.  His terminology tended to be seething ultimatums.  He aimed one of those comments at his daughter.

“This isn’t over–you will have to deal with me, sooner than you think.”  His hand fell away, then he said...  “I’m disappointed in you.”

“What else is knew.”  She scowled.

She was walking out the door, taking long determined strides.

Mikita was standing behind him, and in a soft voice she said...

“Don’t let her leave angry.  Go...make this right.”

She’d always known that Fawn harbored hate and resentment towards her.  She didn’t blame her of course; and she couldn’t fault Morpheus for the way circumstances had played out and they couldn’t turn back the hands of time.  Fawn’s mother was gone and more than likely, fear had kept her from returning.  Morpheus blew out of puff of air that sounded like a raging bull.  He was hot under the collar but he wouldn’t kowtow to his bullheaded daughter.

When Morpheus didn’t move, Mikita looked to Bolden.

“Bolden...go see if she’s all right.”

Bolden raised a brow, expressing his doubt.  He said...

“She doesn’t want to see me mom.  If I go, I’ll only make matters worse.”

“Oh fuck it!”  Morpheus angrily blurted out.  “I’ll go.  And nobody leave this room until I get back.”

Morpheus bounded down the hall in search of his daughter.  When he left the room, Raal said...

“Mikita...what’s going on?”

She shrugged...

“I wish I knew.  I was at home packing to visit my mother when Morpheus called me.  He said that he had something of extreme importance to discuss with me and that it couldn’t wait.”

Raal said...

“Kyle is out of town on business and I was in Miami inspecting one of the munitions factories.  Morpheus sent me a text, and my message was pretty much the same as yours.”

Bolden glanced at their faces, then he shrugged...

“All I have to say is–ditto.”

They looked around the room, and their eyes fell on the table and its five settings.  Was it that simple?  Were they called here to talk over an evening dinner?  They’d been invited here, but no one knew what the emergency was.  At this point, Bolden couldn’t care less.  He had a stick on his shoulder and it wouldn’t take much to knock it off.  For months he’d worked alongside Eliza, accepting that his father was responsible for him being hired.  Bo could appreciate a good joke, but he was beginning to feel like he was the punchline.  Even more so, when he considered his uncles comment; Raal knew about Eliza and the true nature of her job.  He could see it in his eyes and Bo didn’t know how to make peace with that.  So it didn’t surprise him, when he spoke the moment Morpheus reentered the room.  Due to his father’s height, his countenance was intimidating.  He crossed the floor all ‘big man in charge of his castle then he stopped short a few feet in front of them.

Bolden didn’t give him a chance to make a remark.  Being in this house wasn’t good for him and he couldn’t begin to imagine what his father had said to prevail on his mother and he questioned her account of their conversation.

He dismissed the thought to stave off a headache.

His words were spoken and intended to cut like the jagged edge of broken glass.

“I hate to run off like Fawn and...if there isn’t an emergency, I’ll have to take a raincheck.”

“But son...”  Morpheus stared at them perplex; this was a new look for him.  His face was a portrait of ‘What in the hell was going on?’.  This was not panning out as he’d planned.  One family dinner; that’s all he’d wanted.  One meal; was that too much to ask for?

“Bolden...”  Mikita said...  “Honey...can’t you spare just one hour?”

Her heart was breaking for Morpheus, and she couldn’t take much more, witnessing his kind gesture being trampled as if his efforts were no better than cow dung.  He was a ruthless man, but she didn’t believe that he deserved this kind of treatment from his children.  In spite of Bolden’s gentle nature and his belief in fairness; Bolden was not his mother and he didn’t share her sentiment.

He leaned across the distance, pecking her on her cheek.

“Can’t do mom.  The plane is waiting to fly me back to Wyoming–then, after that, it’s off to anyone’s guess.”

The uncertainty dig had been meant for his father, but  Morpheus was too far gone to get the reference.  He needed time to regroup, and Mikita noticed the signs.  She returned her son’s kiss, then she said...

“Call me.”

She would usually add that he could text her, but not this time.  Their conversation needed to take place using words instead of symbols and shortened versions of words.

“Will do.  Say hi to Nana for me.”

With that said, Bolden was out the door.

Raal knew an ending when he saw one; and the fat lady had sang her song.  There would be ovations, but he would leave Mikita to handle that.

Raal drew Mikita close, kissing her on the side of her face.

“Is your contact information the same?”

She smiled weakly saying...

“Yes.  And please...add my name to your guest list.  I want to be at your wedding ceremony.”

He nodded, then his eyes landed on his brother.

“We’ll talk brother.”

Nothing more needed to be said.  Morpheus held a glass expression, and he didn’t bother nodding his head.  Raal gave him a reassuring smile, but he wouldn’t trade places for all the money in the world.

Morpheus walked over to a window, leaving Mikita near the archway.  She had a mind to leave him to his thoughts, but his wounded spirit beckoned her to stay.  She joined him, standing by his side.  A panoramic view of the Atlantic filled the window like a picture in motion.

“Morpheus...  Why?”

He looked at her and she didn't have to say another word.  The question was clear.  Why had he tricked them all to come?  Why indeed.  When he didn't answer her, Mikita said,

"How is Fawn?”

He smirked then said...

“Fawn is Fawn. Stubborn. Bullheaded. Defiant”

“Just like her father.”

He turned his head, and when his eyes met her gaze, they shared a laugh.  The abrupt burst of humor felt good and he couldn't recall the last time something like that had happened.

Morpheus said....

“When it comes to my daughter, her issues are as convoluted as most of her endeavors.  She was upset but not entirely for the reasons you might suppose.”

“You mean her anger wasn't directed at me and our son?”

“Oh no...she was angry about that...and I still have hope that one day that will change.  “He frowned then he said...

“She’s brooding over a boy.”

“I’m quite sure he isn't a boy Morpheus...more than likely he’s a man.”

He was agitated, and his brows rose when he said...

“Fawn likes to be the center of attention.”

“So I take it that, her boyfriend isn't showering her with his affection.”

“That about sums it up.  That and...  Well, Fawn is upset over some Samaritan girl and she's blaming her for all that's gone wrong in her world.  Of course...that's all a load  of bullshit, but we are talking about my daughter.”

He smiled at the absurdity in this situation.

Mikita said...

“Morpheus...Fawn has always had difficulty expressing how she feels.  Her behavior leans toward the extremes.  And when she’s overwrought, she explodes in outburst because she thinks this is the only way she’ll be heard.  Actually, her outburst are intended to gain your attention.  She want’s your notice.  She always has–and she knows no other way to communicate with you.”

He considered her assessment and on some level Mikita was right–but his daughter suffered from a larger problem.  A situation he would solve because he’d dealt with the last of her temper tantrums.  If need be, he would remove her sculptor boyfriend from the equation altogether.

He said...

“Fawn is a handful and she needs to find a real man.  Someone with time and money to spare.  When she told me about her boyfriend, I knew this Judd person would be kindling to her fire.  He isn't right for her and he doesn’t know what being with her really means.”

Morpheus huffed when he said...

“I blame myself for her insecurities because I traveled a great deal and she was raised by nannies and girlfriends.  If she had the full support of a family standing by her side; not judging or critiquing her–she would be confident and more self-reliant.  That’s’ what my daughter needs.  She needs a family–if only to make her feel like someone  other than a boyfriend gives a damn about her.  I’ve tried–but–well...”

Mikita said...

“Is that the reason you pulled this surprise stunt?”

He sighed and when she stared into his eyes, his expression spoke volumes.

His voice sounded heavy when he said...

“It's time Mikita.  It’s time to stop the petty squabbling and backstabbing bullshit.  My children are grown–and soon, they’ll start families of their own and well”

She smiled when his words fell off, and he couldn’t rightly discern the cause for her expression.

He said...

“I mean it Miki...”

Mikita’s face relaxed, and a warmth spanned the width of her chest.  Miki was the nickname he'd given her when they’d first met on her island home.  Hearing him call her by that name sparked a flood of forgotten memories and something else lurched out after hearing her pet name.  She’d been seven months shy of her eighteenth birthday when they met on the beach.  He’d been eleven years older than her; a university graduate, and son to a billionaire.  She’d heard the island rumors, but when he’d invited her out on his yacht for dinner and a night ride; it had not been his money that drew her.  She was experiencing that same lure, and she could respect what he was trying to do.

She sighed when she said...

"Morpheus, I would have come had you asked me; and I’m sure that Raal would say the same.  As for your children...I can’t speak for them.  Even though they’re gone and their excuses for leaving were...

“Indelicate, contrived bullshit excuses.”

She ended his rant by saying...

“Next time...be honest.  Call us or send a message, plainly stating what you desire.  But next time–start with something simple.  A dinner invitation with no talk about family or mending fences.”

He smiled, then nodded and even though the storm had passed, and a resolution had been agreed upon; something else stirred in the room.  She could feel it and her instincts told her that the time had come to leave. Mikita took two backwards steps, then she said...

“I’ll leave you to think about what we’ve discussed.”

She was walking towards the door, when he said...

“Are you still seeing Cyrus?”

Mikita stopped but she didn’t turn around.  She heard him advancing in her rear, then she felt his presence warming her back.  He lay one hand on her shoulder, prompting her to turn and face him.  So many thoughts filled her head, and every warning told her to go but she didn’t; she couldn’t.

He cleared his voice, restating his question.

“Mikita–I’ve asked around...but I want to hear you say the words.  Answer me.  Are you still dating Cyrus?”

She felt his hands sliding down the length of her arm, palming her hands, then lifting her fingers to his lips.  He kissed each finger, and she gasped when she said...

“No.”

That’s what he’d heard, but he wouldn’t believe it until she told him face to face.

“Good.”

Was his response.  Then he smiled, while saying...

“Stay.  Have dinner with me.”

She felt like a spider caught in a web but there was one big difference; she wasn’t struggling to free herself.  She didn’t want to be free of Morpheus and a weight lifted when she admitted this to herself.

**********

Chapter 13

What I did for love

Lucien stepped out of the vehicle, landing on the curb.  There was a flurry of activity, and three children raced pass him towards the Children’s Center.  He’d had a hand in Ona’s project but he couldn’t take any of the credit.  On the second day after she’d been discharged from Lincoln Medical, she was the first person wobbling off the ferry.  She’d arrived at the Center to make final preparations for opening day.  Over a month later, the program had been running at capacity; and the children kept coming.  Lucien didn’t want to cross paths with her brothers, so he thought of clever ways to keep tabs on them.  Rachel had been his most reliable source.  Rachel had been at the opening ceremony when The Children’s Center launched by registering its first child.  Noah had returned to his building project, but he’d made frequent visits home until Ona’s leg cast had been removed.  Since Caleb wasn’t directly involved with any charity programs, he’d told his parents that he’d stay behind to assist Ona, if she needed his help.  With Caleb making frequent visits, Rachel used this as her excuse to get better acquainted with him.  She also relayed to Lucien the days and times that Caleb generally made his visits.  Lucien used this information to precisely time his visits.  He would stop by, bringing gifts for the children, or catered food for the participants and volunteers to eat.  He’d tried to offer Ona money, but she always refused, citing reasons that he didn’t agree with.  But he didn’t press because the purpose of these visits was to spend time with her.

Three children stood on the other side of the reception desk wearing ruffled clothing and unkempt hair.  They had used part of their allowance to catch a bus part way, then the rest of the way, they ran.  The bigger of the kids spoke for the group, he explained that they heard about the program from a bunch of kids at their school.  They were told to hurry because there weren’t many openings left.  Ona had stood off to the side while the children rattled off their story to Rachel, and when they shared a glance, Ona didn’t have the heart to tell the children that she didn’t have any available openings.

She pointed across the room, to a partitioned off section.  She said...

“Hi...my name is Ona Zelle, I’m so happy that you chose to come all this way to be with us.  If you go right over there, tell Mr. Judd, that Miss Ona sent you to participate in his sculpting class.”

A chorus of yips, hips and hoorays echoed to the rafters.  When Rachel and Ona were alone, Rachel shook her head, and her ponytail swayed like a pendulum.

“Girrrrl...”  She exaggerated the ‘r’.  “We’re cutting it close as it is.  Just a minute ago, we went five over capacity.”

Ona’s face appeared troubled.

“I know but...they came all this way.  It would be a shame not to let them participate–even if they aren’t officially a part of the program.”

“Ona.”  Rachel perched one hand on her hip.  “The fire marshal isn’t interested in sad faces, snotty noses or watery eyes.  He will shut this place down, and he’ll sleep good at night, knowing that he saved the city from a potentially overcrowded building that could have been a death trap.”

“I know.  I know.  You’re right but...”

“There are no buts.  You have to tell those children that they can’t come back tomorrow.”

“I can’t do that Rachel.”

“Well...I’ll do it...or Sahara can do it.”

“But that isn’t right.  It isn’t fair for me to ask either of you  to do my job.”

“Ona...I don’t mind.  When I was in nursing school, as a student, one of my teacher’s had a motto.  Sink or swim; that’s what she would say whenever we got an impossible assignment.  She’d say...sink or swim.”

Ona looked in the direction of the three children, and she believed that there had to be another way.  She’d thought the words, then she spoke them...

“There has to be another way.”

“I know.”  Rachel said.   “And when you told me that you couldn’t request additional funding from your Conclave; I took it upon myself to help you find additional funding.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation because within two weeks of starting the program, the word of mouth invitation spread like wildfire.  Children came from high and low and seeing them was a bitter sweet pill to swallow.  One of the stipulations for membership was that the children had to meet certain criteria.  In other words, these children had suffered from a physical or psychological trauma.  When they came, Ona had been stunned.  When she’d formulated the plan, her idea had only dealt with statistics and studies but seeing them was like adding their faces to her summary.

Ona said...

“I’m not so sure how I feel about taking money from a stranger.  I’ve never considered it as a part of my project.”

“Ona...you have to consider it.  Look at these kids.”

Most days, you couldn’t hear yourself think because the warehouse brimmed with sounds in varying joyous expressions.  This day was no different.  In one area, through a soundproof glass, she could see a music lesson in progress.  Across the way, children were reciting lines from a Shakespearean play.  She remembered their faces, and she’d read their stories.  For some of the kids, this was the first time they’d laughed and their eyes weren’t filled with tears.

Rachel said...

“Ona...just think about it.”

“I probably should talk to my brothers first.  Maybe I should call Noah.”

With her parents in the jungle, it wasn’t always that easy to contact them.  Rachel said...

“Well, before you talk to them, maybe you should talk to the investor yourself.  You might find that you can make the decision without your family’s help.”

She wasn’t as sure as Rachel, and she’d prepared herself to say this, when she noticed a person walking towards her.  With nor forewarning, her body froze, responding to an immediate reaction.  Whenever she saw him; each experience swelled in its intensity.

Lucien wore a smile, when he addressed them.

“Good afternoon ladies.”  He looked at Ona to measure her response and he couldn’t get over how amazing she looked.

Rachel said...

“I was just talking about you.”

Ona stared at her and her brow rose, triggered by confusion.  Her mind did a quick rewind, trying to remember every topic and its details.  She rewound the conversation twice, and she didn’t recall hearing or mentioning Lucien Delors.

Rachel said...

“The investor–it’s Lucien Delors.  I explained our dilemma, and he intimated that he was interested in lending his help.”

Ona said...

“You shouldn’t have done that without talking to me first.  The Delors have been overly gracious, and my Conclave fully intends to reimburse you for any inconvenience my injury might have cost you.”

Lucien said...

“And I have turned down their offers.  As I’ve explained to you; I will not accept any form of repayment.  You were my guest Ona–I don’t expect my guest to repay my kindness.”

Rachel skirted around the desk.  He looked at Ona and Rachel said...

“The answer to all of this programs problems is standing right here in front of you–and he wants to help.  If I were you, I’d take him up on his offer.”

Rachel was slipping on her coat, and Ona’s voice quivered when she asked.

“Rachel...why are you putting on your coat?  Where are you going?”

In the past when Lucien made his weekly visits, Rachel had served as an unofficial chaperone.  She’d insisted, just in case one of her brothers arrived because she knew their opinions.

Rachel said...

“Look–We’ve known each other for nearly half a year, and I’ve met both of your brother’s and one of your brother’s friends.  I know enough about your religion to make a few conclusions and I also know that, it wouldn’t be wise allowing them to see you and Mr. Delors alone in your office.”

“What makes you think that I’m going into my office with Mr. Delors?”

“You have to go to your office because you cannot conduct business out here.  It’s to loud, and there are too many distractions.”

“Rachel...now I’m confused.  You still haven’t explained the coat.”

Rachel said...

“Caleb usually catches one of the evening ferries from your  barge.  He stops at the Samaritan cafe on the dock for a coffee, then he hightails it here, and waits until it’s time for you to go home.”

Ona’s eyes were fixed, glossed with bewilderment.  She still wasn’t following.

“Ona–I’m going to the dock to share a coffee or two with your brother.  I plan to keep him engrossed, in a two hour conversation.”

Over the past few months, Caleb and Rachel had grown close and frequently they met to share a cup of coffee.

Ona studied Rachel’s face, because she wasn’t sure that this plan would work.  Mainly the part about her and Lucien talking alone in her teeny tiny office.

She looked at Lucien because until now, she realized that he had not taken part in the conversation.

Lucien scanned the area, paying close attention to the overcrowded space.  He drew in a breath, then he broke his silence...

“I want to support you–but I’ll do it under your terms.  We aren’t here to put any pressure on you.”

Ona felt the tug of war in her brain and she wanted someone else to make the choice.  She needed so many things but she didn’t know how to ask outsiders for help.

When she felt like she’d been pushed into a corner, Ona looked to Rachel for whatever help she could give.  But when she spoke, her advice had not been what she’d hoped to hear.

“Ona, we’re running out of time.  Go to your office.  Talk to Mr. Delors.  Or you can let him do the talking.  Whatever works best for you.”

Rachel waved her hand over her head, and with her back to  them, she said...

“Make good use of your time.  And try to hammer something out in a little less than an hour.”

With that said; Rachel was out the door, heading in the direction of the dock.

There was silence, but a wave of emotion bounced from him to her, then back to him.  They each were in a repeating line of thought.  What do I do?  What do I do?  What do I do?

A minute passed, when Lucien broke the repeating chorus.

“If I remember correctly, you took up office space near the loading dock.”

Ona nervously smiled, because there was no way out of this and Rachel had been right.  If the Conclave couldn’t help, then her only answer was to secure a private donor.

A few days after the opening, Lucien had been given the grand tour but this was the first time he’d been in Ona’s office.  He didn’t see anything special or eye catching.  The walls were a cold concrete grey, adorned with charts and schedules instead of pictures.  Even her chair was one of those uncomfortable metal all purpose folding chairs.

Ona pointed towards one of the chairs, urging him to sit and she rounded the desk to sit behind the desk.  There was a layer of dust on Lucien’s chair and he sat because he suspected that she hadn’t noticed this.  She appeared nervous and he didn’t want to do anything that might add to her uneasiness.

Lucien said...

“I read a story in the paper this morning.  According to the reporter, news about this project has reached the mayors office.  That’s a big deal.”

She shyly said...

“I’m not interested in accolades.  As a Samaritan, my purpose is to be a helper of mankind.”

“But...aren’t you proud of your progress?  Ona...you were in the hospital for two months, and you organized the guts and foundation for this program from your hospital bed.  Your accomplishment was extraordinary.”

His face displayed his admiration, and in his eyes she could see that he was proud of her.  She wasn’t heartless and she understood his reason for complementing her; yet, she didn’t understand why his praised meant more to her than her parents or her brothers.

Ona spoke low when she said...

“I had a lot of help and there’s still so much more than needs to be done.”

“Yes.  Rachel explained your dilemma.  You need funding for a larger facility.”

Ona raised her hand when she spoke.

“I’m sorry but...I feel wrong taking money from you.  It isn’t right.”

“Ona...I insist.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No I don’t.  So, please explain.”

Her eyes spread wide, because when she began the search in her brain, her rummaging came up empty.  In truth, there was no reason not to accept his aid.  In her head, Ona saw the last group of kids that she should have rightfully turned away–and she couldn’t.

She said...

“If you do this...it’s for the children you know.  And there are proper procedures that will have to be observed.”

He smiled, then said...

“Not a problem.  And I can count on your help to guide me through the process.”

Her brow rose in question, then her forehead lowered forming a frown.  She said...

“Uh...oh, yes–I guess I will need to explain the Conclave procedures won’t I.”

“Yes, you will.”  He said, then his brain leapt forward.  When he learned the Conclave procedures, he planned to be rock head dumb.  Lucien supposed the process may take an entire afternoon if he pretended to have a reading disability; and of course, this meeting would include a meal.  Oh, yes; things were shaping up just fine.

**********

“How was your coffee with Rachel?”

Ona was spooning up a bowl of soup for Caleb.  The question had been meant for him, but Noah spoke first.

“Rachel?  Isn’t she the young lady that’s volunteering at your program?  The nurse, right.”

Noah pulled out his chair, then sat at the dining table.  Her brother was home on one of his scheduled days off, and Geff had joined him.  She was thankful that Samaritan customs prohibited non-related males to enter a family home, unless one of the parents were there, acting as chaperone.  This rule was enforced if the male had marriage in mind, and within her family, they all knew about Geff’s intentions.

Ona handed Caleb his bowl, and he avoided eye contact when he said...

“Coffee was fine.”

Noah said...

“You met the nurse for coffee?”

“Yes...I thought I’d made that clear.”

Noah asked

“Was this just a one time thing or have you met her more than that one time?”

Ona joined them at the table, then she said...

“According to Rachel, they’ve been meeting once or twice each week .”

Caleb rolled his eyes, then he shoveled a spoonful of soup in his mouth.  He remained quiet on the subject, and he hoped that the topic would drop.  With their parents out of the country, it was Noah’s responsibility to handle family issues.  Even though they were all adults, and responsible for their own lives, Noah believe it was his duty to continue his inquiry.  His arm rested on the edge of the table with empty spoon in hand.

Noah said...

“Are these meetings concerning Ona’s project or are you meeting her for other reasons.”

Caleb raised his head without lifting his eyes.  His face held a strained expression when he said...

“A little bit of both.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I could but...I’m not sure how to answer you.”

Ona studied Noah’s face, waiting for him to respond.  One brow rose, as if he were engross in heavy thought.  When he traded a glance with her, they both knew what Caleb had meant.  Caleb wasn’t bound by the Samaritan Creed like they were.  If he decided to marry outside of their Sect, he could do so; but his choice would amount to him being excommunicated.  He would be band from entering any Samaritan communes, and he couldn’t set foot on the inside of a Samaritan Conclave.  In short, he would be banished, and Ona had known this growing up as a kid.  They’d all known this, but the topic wasn’t something they ever discussed.  The notion was to painful too consider.

Ona changed the subject.

“So...would you both agreed that my project is up and running well?”

Caleb said...

“You’ve done a wonderful job Ona.  Everyday, the building is filled to capacity and the children seem to be enjoying themselves.”

Noah swallowed his soup, then he said...

“I’d like to stop by tomorrow if you don’t mind.  I heard that you managed to get a few bunnies shipped in from the Virginia Conclave.”

“Yes.  And the children love them.”

Caleb said...

“When you see the faces on those kids...I’m sure you’ll be just as proud of her as I am.”

Ona said...

“I’m glad you feel that way Caleb...because I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no.”  Noah joked.  “She’s been thinking.  Here it comes brother–you’d better prepare yourself.”

Both brothers laughed, and Ona joined in because she only asked for help when moving furniture was involved.  She smirked then she said...

“Ha, ha.  So glad to make you laugh.  But seriously...”

Her eyes landed on Caleb, when she said...

“I spoke to mom last week–and she said that the rainy season is slowing their progress.  The workers in the village are beginning to get discouraged.”

Noah said...

“I spoke to them last week as well, and they said that they might have to change the floor-plans of the school.  They’re running out of time, and the villagers might have to settle for a smaller school.  Much smaller than the ones mom and dad are use to building.”

Caleb said...

“That doesn’t sound good.  What will the Conclave do when they hear about this?”

Noah said...

“Not meeting projected goals could call into question future projects.”

“In other words” Caleb said...  “This doesn’t sound good for our parents.”