Conversation At A Dinner Table

[4skers89]

You forgot the part where they toast their finances and discuss retirement.

[Moiraine]

Harvey’s Motive

 

Frank weaved his way along the muddy street as quickly as he could. He was already running late for a meeting with a client, and it was an important one. The street he was traveling on was more crowded than usual. It had snowed so much recently that the streets were narrower for having to shove the snow up against the sides of buildings. Frank bobbed on his toes anxiously in an attempt to find a less congested area to walk, but he gave up after getting his foot caught in a wheel rut and nearly falling on his face. He blamed the stumble on nerves. He had traveled this road thousands of times before and it was normally second nature.

            As he cautiously stepped around a puddle, he caught his reflection and nearly stumbled a second time. He bent over it and paused, scowling. His shoulder-length, mousy brown hair looked lank after the extra exertion of his hurried walk. He attempted to fluff it up with his hands but it fell back down, lifeless. If he could not fix his hair, at least he could do something about his facial expression. He stared down at the puddle and, after stretching muscles that were stiff from disuse, managed to form a crooked smile. He flinched. The smile looked even more frightening than his scowl. He settled for a more even expression and practiced it until his brown eyes were staring back at him neutrally.

            He began walking again. Once he reached the inner city of Marston, where the streets were paved with cobblestone, the footing became steadier and the crowd’s pace quickened. He still had to rush to his destination, but he needed to do something about his boots now that he was off of the muddy road. He was a professional, not a ragamuffin. Showing up late was better than showing up late and dirty. Frank paused on a busy street corner and wiped at his boots with a handkerchief.

            After he was finished, the hanky looked more like a lump of mud than a piece of cloth. He wrung it out as best he could. He would have simply thrown it away, but his mother had given it to him. It even had his name, Frank Riley, embroidered on it. He shoved it into one of his boots so he wouldn’t soil his pocket, and grimaced at the squelching noise it made. Frank stifled a groan. His trip was taking much more time than he had expected. He set off quickly and tried to think of a good excuse for his tardiness, but he only made it to the next corner when a sight down the intersecting street halted him in his tracks.

            He felt his body temperature rise immediately. A man he hated above all else was standing next to a building ten yards from him. “Self-important” was the best way to describe Carson Pelino. Somehow his boots were nearly spotless. They shone in the sunlight. Frank wagered that if he stared straight at them for too long his eyes would start to water. Pelino was laughing at something said by the person next to him, and he tilted his head back in an exaggerated fashion that sent his blond hair swinging. Frank could almost hear the haughty laughter. He shuddered.

            Pelino had been the bane of his existence since they were young children at the Royal Academy. Frank had been accepted into the school by the skin of his teeth because he was the descendant of minor nobles, while Pelino had been welcomed with open arms because he was the king’s nephew. In Frank’s first year at the Academy, he had cultivated a friendship with the prettiest girl in his class, Nancy Weatherby. He had even convinced his confused mother to bake rhubarb pie every week so that he could take it with him in his lunches. He hated rhubarb, but it was Nancy’s favorite. Perhaps he should have seen that pie was not a solid foundation upon which to build a relationship, but he was only six at the time.

            That year, Pelino had somehow convinced the entire class, including Nancy, that Frank was the source of the terrible odor that always permeated their classroom. It did not matter that Frank had heard that the Barnaby twins did not own a bathtub. No one would listen to reason. Pelino’s word held more weight.

            If that had been the only thing Pelino had done, Frank probably would have gotten over it long ago. But every time he had started making headway in rebuilding his relationship with Nancy, Pelino had been there to humiliate him again. Frank had not thought about him for quite some time, but seeing Pelino again after so many years brought all of his anger bubbling to the surface and he acted without thought. Searching wildly, he found what he sought. The constant melting and re-freezing of snow had created several solid chunks of ice under the eave of a nearby building. Frank grabbed a fist-sized chunk and, with all the force he could muster, flung it at the back of Pelino’s head.

            He slipped quickly around the corner of the building and waited. The sound of a man shouting in pain was deeply satisfying. Frank risked a peek around the edge of the building, and felt the blood drain from his face. The ice had hit the wrong target. Details he had missed while focusing on his hatred for Pelino came suddenly to light. There were nearly two dozen palace guards in front of the same building. Most of them were now frantically trying to extract someone in rich clothing from underneath a tipped-over palanquin. The remaining guards were tending to a man who was sitting on the ground rubbing the back of his head where the ice had made contact. By the man’s regalia, he was one of the palanquin bearers. Pelino was standing beside him, holding the chunk of ice and frowning at it.

            I think you just topped yourself in dim-wittery, sir, an amused voice said inside of Frank’s head.

            Not now, Harvey, he replied firmly.

            When the man who had fallen out of the palanquin was pulled upright, Frank’s face paled even further. Frank had never seen the king up close before, but it was obvious by the crown he was wearing that it was him. The king himself. He looked confused, disoriented, and angry.

            Perhaps now would be a good time to run, said Harvey.

            Frank agreed, grudgingly. He needed to get far away, and quickly. Just as he turned and dashed behind the building he heard a yell, followed by many others, and knew without a doubt that he was being pursued. Angry mutters followed him as he shoved people out of his way. As he tried to turn a sharp corner into an alley, he misjudged the depth of a mud puddle. He flew forward, somehow managing to lose his boot in the process, and scraped his hands as he landed. He got up hurriedly and turned to fetch the boot, but a quick backwards glance showed that his pursuers were gaining on him. Several people in the crowded street were being shoved to the side by an invisible force and it was about to reach him. He had no time. Cursing, he set off again in a panicked hobble. Each step sent a stab of pain through him, until his foot became numb from the wet and cold. He made as many rapid turns as he could in the labyrinth of alleyways, hoping to throw his pursuers off his trail. After he had run for what seemed like hours he leaned panting against a wall and clutched at his side.

            If you do not mind me saying so, sir, you have only been running for two minutes and thirty-four seconds. If it seems like hours it is likely due to your being so dreadfully out of shape. I have been trying to tell you for years that you need to—

            “Shut up, Harvey,” Frank snapped. He froze as soon as he realized he had yelled at Harvey aloud. He had not erred in such a way in ages. Not since he’d first discovered his Ability. Most people were able to do something useful, like light things on fire or turn things invisible. It was said that some were even able to change the thought patterns or memories of others, but most people considered those to be fanciful tales. Frank, on the other hand, was blessed with the wonderful Ability of conversing with rodents. By his estimation more harm had come from it than good.

            That is just plain hurtful, sir.

            Frank was able to mute most of the pests, but Harvey was an anomaly. No matter what Frank did, the rat was able to intrude upon his thoughts at will.

            We have discussed this numerous times, sir, Harvey said patiently. It is my superior intellect.

            Frank was about to reply angrily, when he heard the sound of boots splashing in the alley he had just exited. He straightened and took one step before someone grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backward through a doorway. He struggled, flailing his limbs wildly until the hands released him and he fell backwards onto the floor with a thud. He tried to get up, but his numb foot slipped on the floor and he fell again.

            “Hush,” an urgent voice said. “It is just me, Frank. Stop thrashing about.”

            Frank’s eyes widened when he looked up. It was Nancy. She had a finger over her lips as she shut the door quietly. When she turned after closing the latch he took in the details of her appearance. She was wearing a white blouse that laced at the neck, and tan trousers. He had only seen her wear dresses before, but she looked no less alluring now. Her oval face was framed by black curls that cascaded down just below her shoulders, and her large brown eyes were appraising. When she turned that gaze on him, he felt his cheeks warm slightly. He suddenly recalled how slovenly he currently looked and rose hurriedly to wipe the sweat from his brow. There was nothing to be done about the rest.

            “Head upstairs,” she said quietly. “Take care,” she added. “Some of the steps creak loudly.” Frank nodded in reply. His foot was still numb, so the trek was somewhat difficult, but he managed to reach the top without making too much noise. When he got there he heard several bootsteps on the cobblestones just outside of the building. They came to a halt, and there were several shouts. He gripped the balustrade tightly. He thought he could hear his heart beating.

            That is not your heart. I was thumping my paw against my chest to increase the tension.

            Frank fumed silently, but made no response to the rat.

            The boots started up again, but this time the sound was becoming distant. They were leaving. Frank let go of the breath he was holding. He looked down over the railing and saw Nancy relax visibly. He headed back down the stairs. Nancy gestured toward the sitting room and glided in after him. He sat in the chair she indicated.

            “Who were you running from, Frank?” she asked. She sat cross-legged in the chair across from him and looked at him expectantly.

            Frank racked his brains for an explanation that would put the previous events of the day in a positive light. Before he could think of one, he felt a sharp stinging pain and looked down at his foot for the first time since he’d lost his boot. It hurt from mid-calf to the bottom of his foot. Most of the pain was from the foot being frozen and starting to warm up, but as he lifted it he noticed a small smear of blood on the wood flooring.

            “I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t realize—Do you have a… a towel, or something? Let me clean this mess.” Without waiting for a reply he took a couple one-legged hops toward the kitchen. He did not know how he knew where the kitchen was, seeing as he had never been to Nancy’s house before, but he felt sure he was heading in the right direction.

            “Stop,” she said, catching his arm as he walked by. She was looking at his foot concernedly. “Let me see your foot.”

            “I’ll just wrap something around it. Your floor—”

            “Is of no consequence,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Your foot, on the other hand… you could get an infection. Hold it up for me.”

            He considered refusing, but her eyes compelled him. He balanced himself by placing an arm on the back of her chair and lifted his foot up. Nancy grimaced slightly as she traced a finger across the sole. He looked down. There were scrapes and cuts lining his entire foot. He had not felt any pain after the first couple steps he had taken without the boot. He had been too panicked, and then too cold.

            “Here,” she said, rising. “Sit in my chair. I will be back in a moment.”

            She returned carrying a large bowl of water. It wavered slightly in her hands. She set it on the floor and indicated that he should put his foot in it. She knelt and pulled a rag out of the bowl. As soon as he ascertained her intention he jerked his foot back.

            “Don’t,” he said firmly. “Let me do that.” He tried to take the rag from her but she pulled back smoothly.

            Are you mad? Harvey asked. This is the most action you have had since—

            NOT NOW! Frank yelled at him.

            It is always ‘not now’ with you, Harvey replied petulantly. One of these days you are going to need me and I am not going to respond. Frank ignored him.

            “Do not be foolish,” she said sternly. “If I let you do it, you would swirl your foot around in the water a few times and then consider the thing done. Besides, I promise it will not take long.”

            He opened his mouth to protest, but she raised an eyebrow and he decided argument would be dangerous. “Alright. Go ahead,” Frank nodded. She smirked slightly, as if amused that he thought he had a choice in the matter.

            He still jerked his foot back on a few occasions, but that was due to ticklishness. Each time this occurred she gave him an impatient look. She had been right though, it did not take long. He moved to pull his foot back but she made a peremptory gesture toward the corner of the table. He was reluctant to put his foot on the table, but the expression on her face brooked no nonsense.

            To his surprise, she grabbed his foot with both hands and closed her eyes. Moments passed without her making another movement.

            “What are you doing?” Frank frowned.

            “Tell me who was chasing you,” she said, eyes still closed.

            Frank sighed and tried to choose his words carefully while he stared at her hands on his foot. “I… accidentally tipped over the king’s palanquin, and it sort of landed on him. He and the guards apparently took offense at this.” It was all true. He had just not included the details.

            He frowned as her face paled. She still did not open her eyes. “You must leave the city, Frank. As soon as you can. You should have told me about this immediately.”

            “What are you talking about, Nancy? You’re reacting as though I murdered him.”

            “You may as well have. They’ll view it as an attack on him. Whether or not it was an accident makes little difference. And,” she hesitated. “You have probably not kept up on things, but Carson Pelino has gained a lot of power over the past few years. If he finds out this occurred and that it was you, he will see to it that you hang.”

            “There,” she said softly. “It is done now.” Her eyes snapped open and fixed him with a concerned stare.

            The last statement was so confusing that he nearly forgot about the fear and anger he had been feeling over what she’d said about Pelino.

            “What is done?” he asked. “And I’m not leaving. I’m certain they didn’t catch a glimpse of me. I’ll be fine.”

            That did not seem to ease her worry at all, but instead of arguing she said, “Let me see if I can find an extra boot for you to wear when you walk home.” She grimaced slightly as she rose and there was a slight limp to her walk that Frank hadn’t noticed before.

            She left the room and headed up the stairs. He felt a stab of jealousy as he wondered why she would have a pair of boots in her house that would fit him. The thought made him look down. He stared in amazement at his foot. The cuts were completely gone, as if they’d never been there.

            “How did you do this?” he asked when she came back down. “My foot is like new.”

            He thought he detected a hint of sadness from her as she looked at him.

            “I thought, perhaps if I used it on you, it might come back.”

            “What are you talking about?” Frank asked.

            Nancy hesitated, and seemed to be struggling with some decision. She looked up at him, and to Frank’s surprise her eyes seemed to be forming tears. “I cannot pretend anymore,” she said.

            Before he found out what she couldn’t pretend, a knock came at the door. She gestured urgently toward the staircase and shoved a pair of boots into his arms. He rushed upstairs as quietly as he could manage and entered the first room he found. He listened intently as Nancy opened the front door.

            “It’s been too long, love,” Pelino’s voice said. Before Frank knew what he was doing he had crept closer to the staircase so he could get a view of what was happening. Carson Pelino stood inside the doorway, two palace guards flanking him. He stood so close to Nancy that she had to crane her neck to look at his face. Frank had not heard her giving them permission to enter.

            I do not like this. You should climb out the window and leave while you still can.

            “We spoke three days ago, Carson,” Nancy said wearily.

            “So you counted the days,” he replied, smiling. He leered and made to reach a hand behind her, but she knocked it away. Frank’s veins felt on fire. He thought he could hear Harvey gnashing his teeth.

            “What do you want, Carson?” she asked.

            “How is Kylan?” Pelino asked.

            “Do not pretend you care,” she said acidly.

            “I would not have favored him with my surname if I didn’t care,” Pelino said.

Nancy sighed. “Just tell me why you are here.”

            “Very well. I’m here because I want you to go on a stroll with me this time tomorrow. I think the sights will prove interesting to both of us.”

            “I am busy tomorrow,” she said. “If there is nothing else—”

            “If you are speaking of your work for my uncle, I’ve already asked him to give you the day off.”
            “You had no right to do that.”

            “Who are you to speak of my rights?” he replied tersely. Then, shaking his head, he smiled. “Forgive me. I spoke in haste. But I will see you tomorrow morning. And please,” he added, looking her up and down. “Dress appropriately.” With that, he spun on a heel and was followed out the door by the guards.

            Nancy closed the door and leaned against it for several moments. She didn’t turn around until Frank reached her, and she gestured for him to join her in the sitting room again.

            “Please let me speak first,” Nancy said. Frank nodded reluctantly. He had thousands of questions he wanted to ask about the man he hated.

            “The first time I ever healed anyone was when we were ten and you fell out of a tree and broke your ankle,” she explained. “When I saw that your foot had been injured today, I hoped against all logic that healing it again would somehow jar your memory.”

            “My memory of what?” Frank frowned. He was having trouble paying attention to anything she was saying. All he could think about was the knowledge that Pelino had apparently fathered a child with her.

            “I have been hiding something from you for years,” she replied with an anguished look on her face. “But it was out of necessity. You must believe—”

            “Just tell me,” Frank interrupted impatiently.

            “I’m getting there,” she said. “I have to explain. Have you heard of people with the Ability to erase memories?”

            “Everyone has, but nobody actually believes—”

            “It happened to you, Frank.”

            “What?” Frank replied, incredulous. “Why would you think such a thing?”

            “I saw it done,” she said quietly. Then, looking at him intently she said, “Tell me, do you ever hear voices? That is the most common side effect. If the memories are not replaced with something they fill up with… other things.”

            Frank felt his throat constrict. He had never told anyone about the rats. “No,” he said hoarsely.

            You do not have to listen to this, Frank. I think it is past time to leave.

            “That is good,” Nancy replied. “It is usually devastating for people when they discover that the voices they have been hearing were never real.”
            I do not think I like her anymore, Harvey said.

            “What memories am I supposed to have lost?” Frank said, pacing. “What do you mean you saw it done?”
            “It was Carson, Frank. He made me watch every time, and you were his favorite target. The first time was when we were six. I think he was jealous of how well we got on.”

            “Six?” he said. “The Ability rarely manifests itself that young.”

            “Rarely is not never,” she replied patiently. “I saw him do it dozens of times. I know this is difficult to hear, Frank.  It is difficult to speak of, but there is something I must tell—“

            “Hold on,” Frank said. “Let’s pretend I believe you. Why didn’t you tell me before? Why did you let it happen? And why are you telling me now? If all of this is true, why couldn’t you just let me go on obliviously now that the damage is already done?”

            “I was not planning on telling you, but seeing you again, I…” her voice faded. Her eyes were wet. “I could not tell you before. At first, when we were younger, Carson threatened to make my parents forget who I was, and I believed him. Then later on he threatened to kill my…” she hesitated. “There is something I need to tell you Frank, but you must promise me not to do anything rash.”

            A knock came on the door, and Frank cursed softly. He headed up the stairs for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

            Harvey? Frank said. How do I know that you’re real?

            We have spoken to each other while you held me in your hand. What more proof do you want?

            But, Frank said. Your lips don’t move when you speak. How do I know I didn’t just imagine that you were saying the words?

            Do you really think yourself capable of imagining a being as intelligent and handsome as myself?

            Be serious, Harvey, Frank said.

            I grow weary of this conversation, Harvey replied. Speak to me again when you are being rational.

            “Hello mother,” a boy’s voice said as soon as Nancy opened the door. Frank gritted his teeth. He had not wanted to ever see any of Pelino’s spawn. A thought chilled Frank’s bones. If Pelino had blackmailed her to keep her from telling Frank the truth, had he also coerced her into having his child? That thought also showed Frank something that he had not been willing to admit while Nancy was speaking to him. He believed everything she had said about what Pelino had done to him. What memories have I lost? Frank wondered. Am I still myself if parts of my life have been taken from me? The thought of Pelino doing this to him for years without his knowledge filled him with an anger so violent that he felt as though he might vomit. Perhaps if he killed the boy, Pelino would understand a portion of what Frank was feeling right now. He steeled himself and headed down the stairs, grimly determined. He would knock Nancy out, so she would not interfere. Then he would strangle Pelino’s son.

            “You didn’t tell me father was here,” the boy said excitedly as he heard Frank’s footsteps. He was smiling widely as he came to look up the stairs, but his smile immediately turned into a frown as he saw Frank. The boy was around twelve, he guessed. He knew immediately that he could never harm the boy. He had none of Pelino’s features. He was the mirror image of Nancy. Curly black hair, brown eyes, and high cheek bones. There was an odd familiarity about him that had nothing to do with looking like Nancy, but Frank couldn’t place it.

            “Who is this, mother?” the boy scowled.

            “A friend of mine. His name is Frank,” she said. “Frank, this is my son Kylan.” She placed a slender hand on the boy’s shoulder and smiled at him.

            “Nice to meet you,” Frank said gruffly.

            The boy made no response. He shrugged his shoulder away from his mother’s hand and continued scowling at Frank.

            “I should go,” Frank said as he reached the bottom of the stair.

            “I still need to speak to you,” Nancy said.

            “We can talk another day,” Frank lied. He was going to follow her advice and leave the city tomorrow.

 

            Frank woke up the following morning to the sound of furious pounding on his front door. As he threw on some clothes he heard the huge crashing sound of his door being kicked in. He ran to his bedroom window and looked outside. There were dozens of palace guards outside. There was no hope of escape.

            As he was dragged out of the house he saw a smug Pelino.

            “What is this about?” Frank spat.

            “You are charged with attempting to murder the king,” Pelino replied blandly. He frowned slightly and looked down at the document he was holding. “Sorry. Were charged, rather. We’ve already had the trial. You’re to be hanged in a matter of hours, actually, so we should hurry this up a bit.” He was clearly taking great pleasure in each word.

            “What is the evidence?” Frank asked. He found that he didn’t much are about dying. It was hard to even consider his life his own, because of what he had discovered yesterday.

            Pelino took something out of his pocket and held it up. It was the handkerchief that Frank had stuffed in his boot. The handkerchief that had Frank’s name on it.

            “Take him directly to the gallows,” Pelino said.

 

            Frank looked out at the crowd of faces until he found Nancy’s bloodshot eyes staring back at him. She stood next to a smirking Pelino, who had his arm on Kylan’s shoulder. They stood directly in front of him. The crowd became silent as the noose was placed around Frank’s neck. Nancy was mouthing something as she looked at him.

Frank cursed himself for not staying at her house the previous night to find out what she had been so eager to tell him. But the thought of her having a child with Pelino had made it almost impossible to look at her.

He strained to lean forward so he could read her lips until he finally realized what she was saying. “He’s yours.” But it made no sense until she jerked her head toward Kylan. Her motion drew Pelino’s attention and, apparently realizing she was trying to communicate with Frank, he backhanded her. She straightened, hand comforting her cheek, but that was not what made Frank’s blood pound.

            He stared at Kylan intently. He looked exactly like Nancy, but… he was no older than twelve, and already there were wrinkles on his forehead from a practiced scowl. That was the familiarity he had noted earlier. Frank felt a surge of emotions. He almost wished Nancy had not made him aware of the truth. He had been resigned to his death. Numb to it. He could have died emotionless. Now, not only did he know he had a son, but that son saw Pelino as his father. It was unbearable. His eyes brimmed with tears, but he blinked them away before they could form. He would not cry in front of Pelino.

            Harvey? Are you there? Frank said frantically. There was no response.

            If you’re real… No. I know you’re real. Harvey, Frank said firmly. I know it’s a tall order for a rat, but you have to do something for me. I can’t stand the thought of Pelino being near my son. Kill him. Somehow. I know you’ll find a way. You always were smarter than me. I was just too embarrassed to admit it. Harvey remained silent.

            Please say something, Frank pleaded.

            Frank stared at Kylan again. He did not want his son to watch him die. He turned his stare to Nancy and tried willing her to understand. It seemed to work, because she put her hand over Kylan’s eyes just before the bag was placed over Frank’s head and the floor dropped out from under him.

 

            Harvey sat on the corner of a rooftop overlooking the gallows where his master had died. No, where his master had been murdered. Teardrops collected on his whiskers. He had not been able to respond to Frank at the end. Being inside of his mind as he was killed would have meant death for both of them, and then Harvey would have been unable to act on his master’s dying wish. He clenched his paws and felt his resolve strengthen. He would kill Carson Pelino, and he would make it as painful as possible.

[B.B. Hemingway]

Is the OP worth reading? Asking for me.

[C N Red]

Ban her

1 minute ago, B.B. Hemingway said:

Is the OP worth reading? Asking for me.

Probably not but better than the spam trolling in the post above yours.

[Vitalis Jackson]

I'm not going to read all that.

[B.B. Hemingway]

4 minutes ago, C N Red said:

Ban her

Probably not but better than the spam trolling in the post above yours.

 

I'll head back to the "mansplaining" thread where things are going real smooth, and everybody completely agrees on all discussed issues.

[Hayseed]

What was that rat thing really about?

[Moiraine]

2 minutes ago, Hayseed said:

What was that rat thing really about?

 

Spoiler alert

[Apathy]

[Hayseed]

What does Bart's grandpa have to do with Frank being hung and his rat Harvey seeking vengeance against Pelino?

[Moiraine]

1 minute ago, Hayseed said:

What does Bart's grandpa have to do with Frank being hung and his rat Harvey seeking vengeance against Pelino?

I dunno. I really wish people would stay on topic!

[I AM FOOT FOOT]

Here's what I got out out of the two stories in this thread.Morgan Freeman is directly responsible for the down fall of Nebraska football and probably a Kansas fan.look at pictures of the man in 1997 and then from this year.the man's the anti husker.Since Tom left every bad loss,bad coach hired,all the drama with the administration and any bad press Nebraska has received over the years is caused by you guessed it Morgan f'ing Freeman and every time he does one of his dastardly deeds Satan or Kansas  rewards him with another freckle.proofs in the pictures.

[The Dude]

9 hours ago, Moiraine said:

He was a professional, not a ragamuffin. Showing up late was better than showing up late and dirty.

 

[dvdcrr]

Woman: "Well at least we got rich off this place and all kinds of perks while you ran most of its best program into the dirt, and at least your friends still call you an @sshat."

 

Man:  "Yeah I guess there is always that.  Have you seen my Summers Eve?"