Leech 01 Caleo Read online

  CALEO

  james crawford

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews

  Caleo Leech: Book 1

  V3

  COPYRIGHT 2011 by Anthony Crawford

  Cover Art: Georgina Gibson.

  http://www.georginagibson.com/

  Edited By: Three Ravens publishing

  Published in the United States of America

  http://jamescrawfordauthor.weebly.com/

  [email protected]

  ISBN number goes here.

  To Mom.

  Thank you for always being there.

  A special thank you to my best friend, Paris, I wouldn't even have put my book out in the world if it wasn't for you.

  Thank you to my writing buddies: Natasha Larry, David Beem, William Green and Nova Sparks. For all the days I wanted to give up and you guys helped pick me back up. Everyone should have a group of friends like you.

  PROLOGUE

  om, where are the thumbtacks? I need to hang the banner before he gets here.”

  A tall, slender, red haired woman wearing a white and yellow flowered sundress yelled frantically while rummaging through a cabinet drawer.

  “They’re on the table in the dining room. Next to the cake, Rachel,” a muffled voice called back from somewhere down the hall.

  “Found them! How’s the baby?” Rachel climbed the ladder and pinned the right side of a banner.

  “He’s fine. You know, you should really give him a name. He's three months old.” Rachel’s mother stepped out of a door in the hallway, closing it behind her.

  She was a short, plump woman with long, dark hair that was pulled into a ponytail that hung down her back to her waist. She still wore her purple work polo with the words: Purple Rose Inn embroidered on a small pocket of the shirt.

  “We’ve been through this. I’m waiting for Jeff to get home. It’s only right for his father to help name him.” Rachel smiled at the familiar argument as she climbed the ladder on the left side of the door frame to pin the banner. “Besides, after today Jeff will be home on leave for a few weeks, and the baby will finally have a name!”

  “When did that deadbeat say he would get here?” Rachel’s mother tied a balloon she had just inflated.

  “I don’t know. He just told me that he would be home for dinner.” Rachel knew that arguing with her mother about calling her husband a deadbeat was a lost cause; her mind was already made up on that issue.

  Rachel’s mother threw her hands in the air as she headed to the kitchen to start the dinner. “Oh. So that gives us lots of time to get the rest of this set up.”

  

  Rachel and her mother were taking the roast out of the oven when a noise in the driveway distracted them. Rachel peeked out of a tiny slit in the window blinds and saw a cab.

  She jumped up and down like a twelve-year-old girl while squealing, “Mom, he’s here!”

  “Okay. I’m going out the back. Don’t forget to call me as soon as you name the baby. Mary called in and said one the twins are sick and she doesn’t think she'll make it in tomorrow. Poor little Jack has an ear infection. He’s been crying non-stop all day. I told her not to leave him in the tub so long, but she didn’t listen to me. She told me he's just so happy playing and splashing in the water. So anyway, I'll be up most of the night getting tomorrow's dinner ready for the Inn. They requested roast duck. You should stop by. I know it’s your favorite.” With that she slipped into the kitchen and out the back as there was a knock at the front door.

  Rachel ran for the door and skidded to a halt right before opening it. She straightened her dress, quickly checking her makeup in the mirror on the wall.

  The knocking grew louder and more frantic. “Come on, baby!” Rachel smiled at the sound of Jeff’s voice yelling through the door. “I have to pee!”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed, knowing that all the romantic plans she made for the evening were for nothing. He was drunk and probably wouldn’t even notice all the effort she put into his private homecoming party. Sure she was the only one here, but she was hoping for a little romantic homecoming to make the introduction to his son a little more personal. She opened the door, smiling as wide as she could.

  “Welcome home, hon—” she stopped.

  Other than two white moths flying around the porch light, nothing was there. She peered around the corner.

  “Jeff, don’t pee off the porch,” Rachel whispered, irritated. “The neighbors will call the cops.” Standing at the edge of the porch was a tall, tanned man in an army uniform. He turned to face Rachel, smiling, his deep brown eyes meeting hers.

  His smile made her melt. It always did that. No matter how mad she got, he could always make her forget whatever it was with that smile. Then it all came flooding back as she realized he was still peeing. She went to complain, but he was already done. Walking past her, he left both her and a puddle behind on the porch as he entered the house.

  “Wow, look at this place!” Jeff commented.

  Rachel perked up and walked through the front door, closing it behind her.

  “Awe, honey, you didn’t have to do all of this.” He stumbled over to the couch and fell right into one of the pillows face first. Rolling over, he kicked off his boots and let them crash to the floor.

  He was unbuttoning his pants when he heard the baby’s cry coming from down the hall. Immediately he got to his feet.

  Jeff’s smile spread from ear to ear. “My son, I almost forgot!” He started for the hall, but his pants were around his ankles, causing him to trip and fall to the floor. He kicked his pants off the rest of the way in a playful manner and got up, staggering down the hall and knocking a picture of Rachel’s mother off the wall. “Never liked the old bat anyway.” He smiled back at Rachel.

  He walked better with the pants around his feet, Rachel thought, smiling at her own joke

  Jeff stumbled down the hall to the baby’s room, knocking over a vase that shattered on the floor, sending glass everywhere. Seeming not to notice, he continued his path of destruction. Rachel maneuvered around the glass as he opened the door.

  With a crazed playful tone in his voice, Jeff greeted his son. “Daddy’s home!”

  “Stop that, you’ll scare him!” Rachel protested, despite her laughter.

  “Okay, okay. Come to Daddy.” He reached into the crib. “You're so big. I can’t believe how big you are.”

  “I sent you pictures.”

  “I haven’t gotten any letters in months, but you know how the mail is when you’re deployed.” Jeff waved her off, not caring about anything other than the baby

  “He still needs a name, Dad,” Rachel paused, letting the last word sink in. “You can see him better if you turn on the light.” She flipped the light switch.

  There was a short pause before Jeff exploded. “Is this some kind of joke?!” He dropped the baby back into the crib. “Only someone really sick would do this!”

  Jeff turned to Rachel, tears streaming down his face. She rushed to the crib, hoping nothing was wrong with her son.

  He’s just drunk, he’s just drunk. Nothing’s wrong with the baby. She looked over the side of the crib and sighed with relief.

  The baby looked like he always did. He was lying on his back, nothing covering his body but a diaper as
he looked around the room. His skin was only a little darker than the diaper. She picked the baby up and searched him over, looking for what might be the matter. Her eyes stopped on the oddly colored birthmark on his waist. It’s not that noticeable with his diaper on. Only the top part of the golden ring crested out. Rachel shook her head. That can’t be it.

  Holding the baby tight against her body, she turned her attention to her husband who was sitting in the corner of the room, passed out, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

  Is this just a drunken stupor or is there really something wrong with our son? She thoroughly checked the baby over once more and after about five minutes of checking and rechecking, she decided that Jeff was just drunk and everything would be better in the morning. She took the baby, leaving Jeff on the floor, and went to the living room. Placing the baby on a blanket on the floor, she went to the kitchen to put away the untouched food. Disappointed the evening didn't turn out the way she wanted, she collected the baby and went to her bed, letting him sleep in the bassinet beside her for the night.

  

  Waking up the next morning to the baby crying, Rachel got up, and started going through her daily routine: changing the baby, feeding him and giving him a bath. She took her shower with the baby sitting in his bassinet right by the tub so she could keep an eye on him. She was drying off when she heard Jeff moving around in the kitchen. She quickly got dressed, put the baby in the bed, and went out to greet him. He was sitting at the table, staring at a mug of instant coffee.

  “Good morning, dear.” Rachel took up the seat across from him.

  He shook his head, his eyes never leaving the dark swirling abyss of coffee and cream in his mug.

  “Should I make some breakfast?” She wondered if he remembered what happened last night.

  She opened the fridge and was reaching for the eggs, when Jeff spoke. “Who’s the father?”

  Rachel dropped the eggs to the floor. “What do you mean by that? He’s yours!” Rachel’s face grew red and her ears got warm as blood rushed into them, as they always did when she was angry.

  “Don’t lie to me, Rachel!” He slammed his hands down on the table, knocking his mug over, causing coffee to spill all over the table and down onto his lap. He jumped up, not saying a word.

  Bursting into tears, Rachel turned away to hide her face. “I don’t understand.”

  “The eyes, the hair, the skin … they don’t even match mine! That thing has blue eyes; mine are brown. It has white hair; not blonde, red or black. I’ve never seen anyone with white hair. And its skin! He looks like a corpse! There's no way it can be mine, so whose baby is it?” Jeff waved his arms around violently. “If he was an Albino, he would have pink eyes.”

  Rachel turned around, not caring if he saw her tears. “I told you this in all the letters. He has to be yours. There was no one else.”

  Jeff glared at her like she was unclean. “I'm going to get it tested.”

  She glared right back and spat out angrily “Tested, what for? The doctors all say he's fine.”

  “One of those tests to see if I’m the real father.” Jeff threw his mug at the wall. A look of satisfaction crossed his face as the mug left a dent and shattered when it hit the floor. “I want you and that freak show out of my house by the time I get back.”

  He returned her glare as he reached the door, then he turned to open the door. The small window in the top of the door shattered to the ground outside as the knife block and its contents sailed through it.

  “You’ve done it now.” Jeff turned to Rachel slowly, walking toward her while pushing the chairs violently to the ground. “You shouldn’t throw your weapons away, Rachel, even you should know that.”

  Rachel collapsed to the floor sobbing. Jeff grabbed her hair, forcing her to her feet. He rubbed his finger down her cheek tenderly and smiled. She returned the smile, hoping that the fight was over. Then pain surged across her face as Jeff slapped her. She winced as another blow connected with her cheek.

  “You stupid bitch, I should kill you right now and be done with it.” Squeezing her cheeks together with one hand, he had the other hand ready to slap her again. “Then I'll drown that little thing of yours and all of my trouble will be over.” He slapped her again. He shook the pain out of his hand as he stormed out of the house.

  

  It was a long week as they waited for the test results. At first, Rachel decided to forget about the fight and just pretend to be the loving faithful wife, going about her business as normal. She cooked big, elaborate meals and cleaned the house in an attempt to make him happy.

  One day Jeff came home drunk and started groping her.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry. I’ve been an ass. Please forgive me.” Jeff stretched out his hands for a hug.

  Rachel was unable to decide if it was a trap or not. She stood as still as possible while he picked her up and happily spun her around. “I love you.” He pressed his lips to hers.

  Overwhelmed, she grabbed him and kissed him back, tears streaming down her face. She was so happy that everything was working out just the way she hoped it would. Her husband had come around and did love her. They would be a family again.

  He gently placed her back on the ground. Still kissing her, he ran his fingers through her hair.

  He whispered in her ear “I’m so sorry baby.” He kissed her again. “I love you.”

  She broke the kiss for a second, biting her lip seductively. “I love you.”

  Kissing her with more passion than their relationship ever had before, he led her to the couch.

  A cry broke out from down the hall and she paused, watching Jeff for a reaction. Her muscles tensed, expecting pain, but none came. Instead, his kisses intensified. The baby’s crying seemed only to impassion him more, but unfortunately, it distracted her. She pushed Jeff off gently.

  “I’ll be right back.” Rachel slid off the couch.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Jeff playfully grabbed at her dress.

  She snatched her dress free. “I have to, the baby’s crying.”

  “It will be fine!” He stood up in front of her, funneling her back to the couch.

  “What if he’s choking or something?” Rachel looked down the hall at the baby’s door, praying silently that the baby would be okay till she could get there.

  “Well, that would solve our little problem now wouldn’t it?”

  Jeff pushed her forcefully to the couch and blocked her when she tried to stand up.

  “Come on, baby, it’s me or him.” He dropped his pants to the floor, and then climbed on top of Rachel, kissing her powerfully while holding her hands above her head.

  “Get off me.” She struggled to escape from under him. Then a thought occurred to her. She stopped struggling and kissed Jeff passionately, pretending he won. “Oh, baby, it’s no contest.”

  This time, Jeff let her hands go. Rachel seized the opportunity and delivered a swift knee right between his legs.

  She jumped to her feet and ran for the baby’s room, only slowing down long enough to glance back at Jeff curled up and screaming in pain. She ducked inside the baby’s room, swiftly locking the door behind her. She turned to the baby and whispered, “I will always choose you.” She picked him up, rocking him back and forth as she stared down into his pale, blue eyes while Jeff pounded on the door and screamed a list of profanities.

  

  The next few days, Rachel and Jeff were constantly fighting. Not about what happened that drunken night, but because Jeff pretended he didn’t remember any of it. At first, Jeff on how inaccurate the paternity tests were and that if the test came back saying he could be the father, it didn’t mean that he was. Then, it was Rachel arguing about how he had no right to ask for the test, and she’d always been a faithful wife. She also pointed out that after this test, he would regret ever being mean to her and the baby. The biggest fights, though, were when the baby cried. Jeff would always start screaming right when the baby did. It
wasn’t until the third day after the test that Jeff came running into the kitchen, slamming an envelope on the table, a look of triumph on his face.

  “I told you the little bastard wasn’t mine!”

  He ripped out the letter and shoved it in her face. She snatched the paper out of his hands, staring at the paper in amazement.

  “How can this be?”

  As if on cue, Jeff stepped in to explain it. His voice was thick with sarcasm as he stated, “My blood type is AB positive and your little bastard is type O negative, so there's no possible way he can be mine, my faithful little wife.” He drew out the last few words before turning to walk away. Jeff paused just before he reached the door, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “By the way dear, I want you out of my house by tomorrow.”

  With that he threw open the door and paraded out, his chest puffed in triumph.

  Rachel sat at the table, trying to think of ways the test could be wrong. Maybe my baby was switched at birth. She quickly dismissed that idea, knowing that there could be no possible way. As she stared at the test results she thought back to the day he was born. She remembered the drive to the hospital as clearly as if it were happening that second.

  

  It was a cold November night when she went into labor. She had been staying with her mother during the last few months of her pregnancy, both to help out in the kitchen at her mother’s bed and breakfast and because her doctor told her she should not stay by herself that far into her pregnancy. During the middle of dinner her water broke, her mother quickly apologized to the guests and they raced for the car.

  While driving her to the hospital, they hit a patch of ice and went skidding into a snow bank. With no way to get the car out of the snow—and the contractions getting closer together her mother had no choice but to deliver the baby in the back seat. It wasn’t long before the baby was born. They tried to keep him warm by wrapping him in a blanket that they found in the trunk of the car and turning the heater on full blast. The only thing they could do was hope a car would drive by to help, but no one was out on the road. A few hours later, the car ran out of gas and keeping the baby warm became increasingly difficult. Just when they thought all was lost, a plow truck pulled up behind them.