Page 54 of Cruel King

“The days when hurricane season was only June through November are long gone, Ava,” my brother says, correcting me. “If you lived down here, you’d know that.”

“Oh. Do you think you guys are going to be okay, or will you have to evacuate?” I ask, suddenly worried about my brother, his wife Mika, and my two nieces.

In a somber voice, he answers, “I’m not sure. We don’t usually get a direct hit, but each storm is different. So how is everything up there? Did all the King kids get there yet?”

“Yeah. All five showed up yesterday. It was like the old days with all of them back. The only one missing here is you.”

“How are they handling things?”

I think about how each of the King sons seems upset. Well, all but Matthias, who only seems to be angry, as usual. I debate whether to mention to my brother how he acted toward me, but there’s no reason to put any more on his plate. He already has enough to worry about with the storm, keeping his family down there safe, and maybe getting a flight out at some point.

“Tell them I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying to call Dad, but can you tell him what’s going on, Ava? If I can get there sometime soon, I will. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all of this on your own. If it wasn’t for this hurricane, I’d be there with you.”

“It’s okay, Drew. Tell Mika I said hello, and tell Tara and Tasha that their Aunt Ava loves them and I’ll see them soon.”

“I will. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. Stay safe.”

I end the call and sit back on the couch, closing my eyes. My father is going to be disappointed Drew isn’t able to get here. It’s been nearly a year since he saw them, and having his son around at this time would have helped him deal with the loss of Mr. King, who’s not only my father’s employer but also his friend.

My father walks into the house fifteen minutes later, and I can tell by the deep frown etched into his face that things aren’t good. I don’t want to heap more bad news on top of everything else, so I don’t mention my brother not being able to get out of Florida because of the hurricane.

He sits down next to me and sighs before saying, “Mr. King is asking for you, honey.”

“Did something happen? Rachel’s still there with him, isn’t she? She’s the official nurse. If he needs something, she should handle it.”

Patting my knee, my father shakes his head. “No, she’s still there, but he’s not asking for you for anything medical. He wants to talk to you. I don’t think it’ll be long now, to be honest.”

Confused, I look at him, hoping he’ll explain why his boss wants to speak to me. I’m not family. In his final hours, I can’t imagine why he’d look for me.

“Why does he want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know, but he was adamant about it. He wants to speak to you.”

For some reason, I think my father is holding back from telling me the truth. I think he knows why Mr. King is asking for me but doesn’t want to tell me. Why makes no sense, though.

“Dad, when I was at the house yesterday, Matthias pretty much chased me out. I’m not sure I can handle being treated like that again.”

“You have to, Ava. It’s Max’s dying wish.”

Rarely has my father referred to Mr. King by his first name with me. That tells me this must be serious.

I hang my head, unsure how I’m going to handle dealing with Matthias if he’s around but not wanting to deny Mr. King one of his last requests of me. “Okay. I’ll go now.”

With each step I take up the road to the main house, a feeling of dread fills me. I’d known for weeks that this time would come sooner than later, especially after the doctors told Mr. King there was nothing else they could do. I’ve tried to be there for him, even if it meant simply sitting by his bedside as he slept so he never had to wake up alone when Rachel had to step out of the room.

But none of that compares to his actual family members being there for him.

When I get to the house, I look around but see no one. Thankfully, Matthias appears to be out. I walk up the stairs and follow the sound of muffled voices at the end of the hall in Mr. King’s room.

I softly knock, hoping not to interrupt him with his sons on what may be one of his last days, and wait for someone to answer. When no one does, I slowly open the door and poke my head in to see him sitting up in bed and looking better than I’ve seen him look in days.

Did my father make a mistake?

“Mr. King, my father told me you wanted to see me?” I tentatively say as I step into the room.

From behind the door, Matthias appears, and the look on his face is pure disgust. Before I or his father can say another word, he snaps, “Get out! You don’t belong here.”