Designed to Love (6 page)

"Yeah, I know," she says, slightly blushing
and fluttering her eyelids in such a way that I almost accuse her
of doing it on purpose.

"You can back out from marrying me you know.
It's not too late. I know you deserve more than what I can give to
you," I manage to choke out. She takes a deep breath and sits up,
crossing her legs in front of her.

"Do you really think that I'm so shallow, as
to let something like this be a deal breaker?" she says with a hurt
expression.

In response, I reach for her hand and give
it a light squeeze, letting her know that's not what I meant.

"Look Ronan, I knew when I accepted this
ring that our life together was never going to be normal. I mean,
having a fiancé with telekinetic and telepathic abilities, not to
mention the ability to hang out and watch me take a bath from two
thousand miles away, is pretty freaky."

"Wait, how did you know I was here while you
were taking a bath?" I interrupt, than quickly add, "I swear I was
going to tell you anyway."

She shrugs her shoulders and simply says, "I
can feel or sense when you are near."

"No joke? I guess that's the end of spying
for me," I say laughing.

"Yeah, I must be tuning in to your
frequency," she giggles. We lapse into silence again, and I can see
her struggle to continue. "Ronan, I just assumed that along with
all the inevitable bizarre crazy stuff, that we would also have
some normalcy. And for me, that means giving Claire a home, going
to college, having a career, and yes, eventually having a family of
our own."

Her portrayal of our future is appealing to
me, too, until the image of grotesque, flying monkey kids flashes
across my mind. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling,
trying to erase the images. "Cat, the thought of creating babies
with my genetic makeup scares the hell out of me. I'm constantly
worried about what other freaky traits I might pop up with, and to
subject another human being to the same fate seems almost cruel.
Every time my genetic material gets passed down, there is an
opportunity for something to go very wrong. Could you live with
that? Could you live with yourself, if we created some monster
baby?" I challenge. She studies me thoughtfully before
replying.

"Dr. Kappel was probably one of the most
brilliant men to walk on this planet. He spent most of his life
studying DNA, and the intricate way he designed you, Claire, and
the others," she pauses and swallows hard. "I just think he would
have planned for future generations of Designers, and if he were
concerned at all, he would have designed the ability to procreate
out of you," she says with confidence. I hadn't even considered
that as a possibility, but now that she's said it....hmm.

"If that were the case, would my love for
you be enough?" I ask, searching her eyes for any contradictions.
She smiles mischievously and leans over to kiss me.

"Not even close," she whispers.

"Really...? What more could a girl want: a
man with devastating good looks, clothes, jewelry? How about an
airplane?" I offer jokingly.

"Hmm, how about...trust and respect?" she
says with a smile.

"That's a given. What else?"

"Well, I want to laugh and have fun every
day," she says enthusiastically, as she straddles my hips.

"I want that too," I reply, pulling her down
on top of me. "What else, Cat?"

"A promise that we will discuss things
respectfully when we disagree," she says maturely.

"I know. I'm sorry for the way I talked to
you last night," I say hoarsely. "Is that it?"

"No, there's one last thing. I want a solid
promise that once we're married; I can make love to you anytime I
want," she teasingly whispers in my ear.

"Cataryn McCullough, you did not just say
that!" I moan, rolling out from underneath her, as she smugly
chuckles to herself.

RONAN

The aroma of homemade apple pie permeates
the large gourmet kitchen and Cat is complimented over and over
again on the perfectly baked pies that sit cooling on the kitchen
counter. Had I not seen her carefully craft each one from scratch,
I may have accused her of purchasing them from a high-end bakery.
Everything from the crust, to the cinnamon spiced apple mixture
inside, to the unique leaf appliqués on the top, was created from a
recipe that's been passed down in the McCullough household for
several generations. Cat tells me that she began helping her mother
in the kitchen when she was about Claire's age, and now has most of
the special holiday recipes memorized by heart. I've never met a
girl who has the ability to cast herself in any role and do it
well, until I met her. Whether it's standing up to bullies, kicking
the ass of a street thug, raising a little sister, or throwing
together a gourmet meal for a large crowd, Cataryn is able to pull
it off.

I study her now as she concentrates heavily
on adding the final touches to the oven ready turkey that according
to her, should have gone in the stove a half hour ago. She always
looks beautiful to me, but today she is breathtaking, even with
half her hair falling out of a sloppy ponytail and flour smudged on
her cheek. I had been delegated to the sidelines after I failed to
roll the pie dough out to the precise thickness that she had
instructed, so I am left with nothing better to do than watch her
as she gracefully maneuvers around the kitchen, preparing one dish
after another. The two of us have been up since 5:00 a.m., three
hours ahead of everyone else, in order to prepare for today's
Thanksgiving feast. Cat was so excited that she could barely get to
sleep last night, repeatedly planning today's event, out loud, step
by step. Her enthusiasm is spreading to everyone in the house and
even Alisha contributes to the celebration, helping Elizabeth with
the dining room decorations.

Cat closes the oven door and turns around to
face me, letting out a deep sigh.

"Well, I think that's it for now. All that
is left is the green bean casserole, and that can wait until this
afternoon," she says, smiling at me, a gleam of excitement in her
eyes.

"Ok, then how about we go back to bed?" I
suggest feebly, knowing her response even before she shakes her
head "No".

I find it interesting that I know her so
well, that I can predict her reactions and read her emotions with
almost 100% accuracy. Yet, I couldn't tell for sure, if her
unusually long, black eyelashes are natural or enhanced with
mascara, although I suspect the former. She pulls the oversized
apron over her head, dislodging the remainder of her loosely held
hair and it tumbles down her back in a silky wave.

"There are still a few things left to do,
and then I promise I'll relax for a little while before dinner,"
she says, taking me by the hand and leading me into the dining room
to check on the decorating progress.

This would be one of the first home cooked
Thanksgiving dinners for me since long before my grandmother died.
My parents weren't fond of cooking, so we adopted the tradition of
dining out every Thanksgiving Day. Some years we would be joined by
the Harolds, but most of the time it was just the three of us,
sitting in some fancy restaurant straining to make small talk, and
trying not to look relieved when the waiter finally showed up with
a check. The memories are bitter sweet. What I wouldn't give to
have just one more holiday dinner with the two of them. It would be
so different now-I would make certain of it. After years of anger,
resentment, and blaming, I was finally ready to apologize. Only
now, it was too late. They died believing I hated them. I suppose
it's only fair that I spend the rest of my life living with the
pain and regret of that.

With virtually an unlimited budget; Cat has
been busily shopping for food and decorations, and the effort has
paid off. No detail appears to have been forgotten; from the jewel
toned table linens, to the fresh flower arrangements, faux berries,
pumpkins and gourds, candles and even gold etched name placement
cards indicating our pre-arranged seating. Even a five-star
restaurant couldn't compete with the ambiance of this dining room
though. Brandon and Michael seem as impressed as I am, indicating
that they didn't grow up doing Thanksgiving like this either. Today
is rapidly becoming one of the best holidays that I've ever had.
Even though it's the first without my parents, being here with Cat
and the others feels like being part of one very large family, and
I have to admit that I like it.

***

"When is Bernie coming?" Claire asks me
again for the third time in the last hour, and I give her the same
answer I did the previous two times.

"Her flight gets in at two," I remind her
once again.

It was Jason's idea to invite Bernie
Stoddard to celebrate Thanksgiving Day with us, and we were all a
little surprised when she accepted. Now Claire is anxiously waiting
for her arrival. It's the first time since moving into the Freeman
house, that she hasn't had the attention of at least one of the
adults at her disposal and she seems less than pleased about the
situation.

The sounds of intermittent cheers and
cussing coming from the great room causes Claire to roll her eyes,
and mutter, "Stupid football game."

Even her normally reliable playmate,
Elizabeth, is engrossed in the game, and with Cat and I busy in the
kitchen, Claire is left with no one to entertain her. Cat warned us
that we were spoiling her by accommodating her every little whim,
but I didn't really see it until now.

"No forest animals around for you to play
with?" I ask, watching as she uses telekinetic energy to float a
carrot stick across the kitchen, behind Cat's back.

"Nope, it's too cold out," she replies
grabbing the carrot out of the air and shoving it in her mouth.

"Maybe I can squeeze in a game of chess
before dinner," I make the mistake of saying out loud.

"Ronan, you promised me, you would help in
here," Cat says disapprovingly, then turns to Claire and says,
"Sorry, he's already spoken for."

Claire grunts, and slides down from the
barstool, heading to the great room for what I supposed would be
another round of pleading with the adults in there. Ten minutes
later, there is a moment of dead silence, followed by loud groans,
coming from the direction of the great room.

"What the hell just happened?" we hear
Brandon say.

Cat and I exchange glances then hurry to the
great room to investigate. The large big screen T.V. is completely
blank, and everyone is crowded around, pushing dials and checking
plugs to get it working again. Cat and I simultaneously look at
Claire, who is sitting near the picture window with a smug smile on
her face.

"Claire, turn it back on now!" Cat hollers
and the room goes quiet as everyone turns to look at Claire.

"Claire, did you do this?" Alisha
demands.

"Maybe," Claire says, avoiding eye
contact.

"Claire, I mean it, turn it back on or else
you'll go to your room for a time-out," Cat hisses.

"No! This is supposed to be a family day and
everyone is ignoring me," she says, sticking her chin out
defiantly.

I'm not sure if it's because I'm not much of
a football fan, or what, but suddenly the scene in front of me
couldn't be any more comical and my poor attempt at hiding a smile
doesn't go unnoticed by Claire.

"It's just a stupid football game anyway,"
she boldly announces to the roomful of fanatical fans.

The room explodes with chatter as everyone
begins talking at once.

"Claire, please turn it back on," Brandon
pleads, falling to his knees in front of her, with his hands folded
under his chin.

"Come on Claire, I'll take you swimming
later. I promise," Burke bribes.

"Claire, turn on the damn TV or you can
forget about getting a horse!" Alisha threatens.

Even Elizabeth does her best to coax Claire
into restoring the screen on the TV. No one immediately notices
when I collapse in the nearest chair laughing. It isn't until Burke
throws the TV remote at me a little harder than intended, leaving a
small gash on my cheek, that I am even aware that I have become the
center of attention. Claire is the only one not glaring at me, and
her wide toothless grin, makes me double over laughing even harder,
rendering me completely helpless to the criticism and disapproval
of the others. The sound of the doorbell saves us from an all-out
brawl, when Alisha and Brandon tackle me to the floor.

***

Bernie Stoddard's arrival couldn't have been
better timed. After she is introduced to Cat and Michael, she is
whisked away by a possessive Claire for a tour of the estates,
starting naturally with Claire's favorite, the indoor pool room.
The football game is back on in the other room and the previous
level of excitement is restored when the favored team makes a
touchdown.

"You deserved this you know," Cat says, as
she applies an ice pack to the side of my face.

"I know, but I haven't laughed that hard in
years," I admit as if that alone is justification for encouraging
Claire's poor behavior.

"I need to start her in school, she needs
friends her own age," Cat says, with a troubled expression.

"She'll never fit in, Cat. Trust me, I
know," I say gently. I know it's not what she wants to hear, but
I'm convinced it's the truth. Putting Claire in school would have
disastrous consequences, I was sure of it. I circle my hands around
her tiny waist and pull her down on my lap.

"But she needs kids her own age to play
with," she argues, struggling internally, much the way I'm sure my
mom did when making these decisions with me.

"Cat, she reads and performs math equations,
at the high school level. And what do you think is going to happen
when a friend takes a toy that she wants, or someone excludes her
from a game of hopscotch? " I lightly challenge. I knew she
considered her childhood extraordinary and felt an obligation to
try and give Claire the same experiences that her parents gave her,
but from a Designer standpoint, school sucks for the genetically
enhanced.