The Gift Ch. 01-05

For as long as she remembered, Elijah had been single. There had been a few flings here and there, but they mostly began and ended in bed. In the beginning, she held herself responsible for Elijah not having a relationship. He always made her a priority growing up, never forgetting that she was the only family he had. But even after she went to a foster home, he never made the effort to find anyone. He was past his prime now, his hair thinning and lines appearing around his eyes, but Luciana knew there were women who would kill to be with him. He was tall and good-looking, with broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist. Luciana had no idea how he managed to avoid fat despite living off of burgers and fries most of the time.

"Hi," he said, slowly walking in and heading towards the bed. "Have you been okay?"

She simply shrugged in response. Elijah sat next to her, putting the gun and the handcuffs aside. A gentle hand came to hold hers, and it was all the encouragement she needed to crumble in his arms. He held her, stroking her hair, patting her back to make sure she didn't choke on her own tears. When she had exhausted herself, he gently laid her back against the pillows.

"I'm sorry," she spoke through the tears. "I needed a hug."

"I know." He held her hands in his as he stared at her face. "I realized you needed time to grieve, or I would've come home sooner."

"You wouldn't want to be around me. I'm a mess."

"That's alright." He fetched the box of tissues and held it in front of her. She gratefully pulled out one and blew her nose.

"I see you have no clothes," he observed. "I know my clothes won't fit you but you can at least spend the night in them."

"Matt's bringing some of my clothes tomorrow," she said.

"Alright." He looked at the time on his watch. "Have you eaten anything?"

She shook her head. "You haven't eaten anything since yesterday?" he exclaimed. "Oh, well."

He rose from the bed and fished out his phone. "I'll order a pizza," he announced. "What kind do you want?"

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

"But you still have to eat something." Without waiting for her response, he dialed a number on his phone and proceeded to walk out of the room, grabbing his gun and handcuffs. "I'll bring you some clothes," he called out as the door shut.

Luciana dropped her head against the pillow, her temples throbbing from all the crying. Her eyes surveyed the room, far bigger than her own bedroom back home. She often wondered how Elijah managed to live in that house all alone. There was enough room for at least three more people. He was hardly ever home, but he did have to pay taxes on the property. Besides, it felt empty when there were so many rooms and not enough people to fill them.

She understood where his fascination for a big house had come from. Growing up in a poor household with only one-a-half rooms to call home, Elijah became determined to get himself a proper house - a big house -- if he ever made a lot of money. As the chief of police of Chicago, he had been able to make that dream come true. It was a beautiful house, one that attracted attention from the corner of the street. The trees guarded most of it from view, but as people passed it by, they couldn't help but slow down and get a better look.

Her head spun when she tried to get down from bed, and it forced her to lie back again. She felt sick, but what she felt most was disbelief. Just a day ago, Cleo had been with her, albeit weak and listless, but still there. Her clothes still smelled like cat, still had fur on them. Luciana squeezed her eyes shut when she realized that the fur would slowly go away. The signs of Cleo's presence wouldn't be there anymore.

The door opened and Elijah returned with one of his t-shirts and a pair of pajamas. Luciana looked up, tears blurring her vision. He put the clothes down and sat next to her.

"It's okay," he said gently. "Whenever it feels like you will never get over it, remind yourself that you've been through worse but turned out fine."

Luciana nodded, knowing the truth of those words. She had indeed been through worse, and though losing Cleo seemed insurmountable, deep inside she kept telling herself that it would all pass. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon.

"I know this might not be the right time, but..." he began, "I reckon it would be easier for you to go through this if you had someone to lean on to. A significant other."

"I have Matt," she pointed out, swiping a finger along her runny nose. Elijah shook his head.

"He's your friend, not your significant other," he explained. "Come on, Lu, you know what I mean."

"I don't want to date," she said flatly. "Men don't like it when I speak my mind."

Elijah laughed a little. "Like the time you said you hated kids and wouldn't want any? Or when you said that you would never love him as much as you loved your cat?"

"The truth is, I didn't love him at all." She grabbed another tissue and wiped her nose. "I did want to give him a chance. But he expected me to fit the bill of the model wife, the ideal partner, the future mother of his non-existent children. I don't believe in that bullshit." She crushed the tissue in her hand, feeling the tinge of anger within her. "I was much happier with Cleo. At least she didn't have expectations from me."

"What makes you think marriage and family are bullshit?" he asked carefully.

"Because they ruin everything. My career, my freedom, my independence... I'm not ready to lose any of it."

"You will not, if you're with the right person." He sighed, lifting a finger to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. "I know Cleo was your world, but you cannot botch up your chances of a relationship just because your cat meant so much to you."

"Elijah, she was with me for eleven years," she said, closing her eyes and exhaling when the painful memories came back to mind. "Eleven years, okay? Besides you and Matt, I have not known any other human for that long. And I don't want to date simply because I want to stop pondering over the empty space left behind by my pet."

She squinted at her brother. "And who are you to talk about relationships anyway? You haven't been with anyone in god knows how long."

"I'm the chief of police, Luciana. Relationships take time and I don't have that luxury." He was interrupted by the doorbell. "But you're not the police. You have the time and the age for love and relationships."

He left the room again to fetch the pizza. Luciana heard the front door, then voices, and then the door again. When Elijah returned, he had a big box of pizza in his hands.

"I don't know about you, but I am starving," he sat in the chair next to the bed and opened the box. "It's steaming hot and looks delicious."

"I'm not hungry," she repeated. Elijah narrowed his eyes at her.

"You know, you can eat and still grieve," he said. "Starving will get you nowhere."

He bit into the first slice, almost burning his mouth. He swallowed, wiping food from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "This is why you need a man."

"To make sure I'm fed?"

"Yes."

"I don't need a man," she said idly. "I've never needed any human to be able to feel happy. I live life my own way. I'm not going to change it or compromise for a man."

For a moment, there was silence between them as Elijah seemed to process what she had said. He came over and sat next to her on the bed, breaking a small piece of pizza.

"Open your mouth," he said, holding it in front of her face. "Come on."

"Elijah..."

"Please?"

She obliged and he put the pizza into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, neither appreciating nor depreciating it. Elijah smiled at her.

"You are hungry," he said with a smug smile. Then he pulled the box onto his lap. "I want you to eat, Lu. I'm not going to finish it all by myself."

Luciana didn't respond to that. Elijah broke another small piece and fed it to her. After almost a day of not eating, pizza would provide her with the calories she needed.

"Would you like to get another pet?" he offered.

"It's too soon." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Maybe I will, but only when Cleo's memories aren't so painful anymore."

"You know, as much as I adore your relationship with animals, I still wish you would find a human companion that isn't Matt." He licked his thumb, reaching for a tissue. "Having a man isn't important, but someday, you'll be old and greying and wish you had someone to build a life with."

"No, I don't think so. I'd like to be surrounded by my pets when I'm old."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Elijah shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure there's someone out there for you," he said.

"I don't want to talk about it," she pleaded. "This is a bad year for me. Henry left me, then Cleo fell sick, and then...this."

She sniffled, gathering her hands in her lap. "It's less than three months to Christmas," she murmured brokenly. Elijah smiled wistfully, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"You know what they say? When you wish for something hard enough, it comes true." He searched her face. "What do you wish for?"

Luciana looked into his eyes, a lump appearing in her throat. "I want to be happy," she said, her voice trembling. "I want everyone to be happy."

---

Chapter 5

October rolled in with more rain, but within the first few days the sky cleared up and the mornings began to feel crisp. The temperature hadn't dropped drastically yet but the news reported that some cities had already got snow. With every gust of breeze, the trees shed more of their leaves, piles of colorful foliage appearing in places.

Autumn-- Chris's favorite time of year. Even as he sat on his parents' couch and read through his father's new book, the sun streaming in through the large French windows warmed his back. He had spent the weekend at his parents' countryside home, although he'd still have to respond to emergencies if and when they arose. But he had no complicated patient on hand at the moment. He simply wanted to forget the past week, finding solace in everything he used to love as a child-- trees, open fields, streams and creeks, and his mother's garden. And of course, the animals.

His parents had three permanent pets-- Lucy, the Golden Retriever, Kipper, the yellow Labrador, and Chloe, the British Shorthair. There was also an occasional owl called Mario, and a possum named Lily that lived under the front porch. Lucy and Kipper were lying at his feet against the coffee table, and Chloe was on the backrest of the couch, stealing some of the sun from him. Even as he stroked her short, plush fur, he couldn't help thinking about the past week.

It was eight days since Cleo passed away. Two days ago, when Luciana had come to collect her cat's ashes, she had looked like a train-wreck. It needed no mention that she'd been crying, and although it was a normal part of grieving, he still wondered how healthy it was for her. She had looked sickly and miserable, and despite her trying to hide it, Chris hadn't missed the loneliness in her emerald eyes.

He wondered if she would ever get over it, and if yes, then in how long. Some people never got over the death of someone dearly loved. Chris had seen a few such people in his life, and didn't want Luciana to become one of them. It wasn't pretty.

"You look distracted." His mother came up to the couch and held out a cup of tea. Chris put the book down and accepted it, smiling at her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, sitting next to him. "I haven't seen you so distracted in a long time."

"Nothing," he shrugged, lifting the cup to his lips. "I guess I'm just tired. It's been a long week."

"You've had many long weeks in your career," she said, taking a sip of the tea. "It was never reason for a confused and distracted heart."

He chuckled at her words, putting the cup of tea on the table. Frida, his mother, could easily be the most calming woman he had ever known. She was of Norwegian descent, although born and raised in Nottingham, her features sharp and piercing, her golden hair cascading down her back, and her hazel eyes sparkling with awareness all the time. There was nothing she didn't know. Chris often thought she knew sorcery or witchcraft of some kind to be able to read people's minds the way she did.

As a young mom, she had given up her job as a medical assistant and midwife to raise Chris and his brother Jack, while being the pillar of support to his father. Despite her attention to discipline, she had been a loving and tender mother to them, nurturing them to be strong, fearless but sensitive men. His father blindly depended on her. For all his life, Frida had been the decision-maker in the house. With her husband nose-deep into children's fantasy, she had taken it upon herself to keep everything in order. She hadn't done a bad job with her sons or her pets.

"What makes you laugh?" she asked, crossing her legs on the couch. Chris shook his head.

"I'm alright," he nodded. "Nothing's wrong."

"Have you decided what to write for the cover story?"

"No." He ran a hand across his face, tucking a few golden strands behind his ear. "I'm still pondering over it."

"Is that what's making you so pensive?" she asked.

"Not really," he answered. "I had to put down a sick cat last week. It's weighing on my mind."

"Oh." She put the teacup down and placed a gentle hand on his knee. "I'm sorry. I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you, or the person experiencing the loss."

She picked up the cup again, taking small sips. Chris picked up his, blowing gently on the steaming beverage.

"Who's she?" Frida asked suddenly, without looking away from her tea. Chris gave her a perplexed look.

"Who?"

"It's a girl, I can tell," she smiled knowingly. "What's her name?"

"Mom, it's not what you think it is," he sighed. Frida feigned innocence.

"What do I think?" she asked, her eyebrows upright. "I merely wanted to know the name of the girl who lost her cat."

"Luciana," he admitted quietly. Even as the word left his lips, he felt a strange burn in his chest. He had felt that the first time he drank as an 18-year-old, the heat caused by the alcohol. But he had felt the same sensation every single day the last week, each time he thought of Luciana or her cat that he had failed to save.

"Luciana," she repeated after him. "Pretty name. Italian, is she?"

"Yes. She's Chief Russo's younger sister."

"The chief of police?"

When Chris nodded, her eyes widened. "Isn't he your neighbor?" she asked.

"Uh-huh." He drank his tea, ignoring the looks Lucy was giving him. It was just tea, but Lucy still thought he was eating food. His parents never shared their food with the pets. Kipper and Chloe knew that and never begged. Lucy, being the eldest and the stupidest, never learned.

"Poor girl," she sighed. "I hope she is alright."

"I'm not sure about that. She looks like a dead person."

"Have you tried helping her?"

"She doesn't seek or need my help."

"Why not?" Frida looked surprised. "You're a vet. Aren't you the best person to help people through the loss of their pets?"

Chris put the cup down and threw his hands up. "What am I going to do? Tell her that she will get over it one day? She doesn't need to hear that."

Frida laughed now, throwing her head back. Chris stared, both confused and slightly annoyed.

"Even after all these years," she said, "you're only good with animals. Not with people."

"Mom—"

"I know you still hold on to what happened three years ago," she sighed. "You built walls around your heart, letting in no one but animals. I appreciate your passion to save Mother Nature's creations, to rescue abused animals and find them loving homes, to help them recover from diseases. But life can be so much more than that."

"It isn't for me," he shook his head. "I don't want to bring a woman into my life only to push her into loneliness. I can't spend my days knowing that I've been a failure as a lover, a partner...a husband."

"Loneliness is a state of mind. Your father spent most of his time in his study. Did I feel lonely? No. Because I knew he was there. I knew his family was his priority even if he didn't spend every hour of his day with us. If he spent even two hours out of his day with me, they would be full of undivided attention."

She gently squeezed the strong muscle of his leg. "You are your father's son," she smiled into his eyes. "I know you better than anyone else."

Chris looked away, at Chloe staring out the window and whipping her tail against the couch. He stroked her chin, getting a low purr in response. Lucy and Kipper were now staring at him, expecting the same attention. He reached down to give them a little cuddle, laughing.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see his mother smile.

"You're the kindest man I know, Chris," she said warmly. "You are blonde and buff and too handsome to look real...but deep inside, you are soft. Like a marshmallow."

"Mom!" He burst out laughing. "Marshmallow? For god's sake, that's the best you could come up with?"

"What then?" she laughed as well. "Tomato?"

"Stop, please," he said, still laughing.

"Stop what?" Chris's father called out from the foyer, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. Lucy and Kipper flocked to him, circling his body and trying to jump on him. He laughed, indulging them with pats and cuddles. Chloe watched from her vantage point, unwilling to leave the pool of sunshine.

He took off his shoes and walked into the room, giving his wife and his son a warm smile. Chris's whole family was tall. His father was 6'3", only an inch short of Chris himself.

"Mom just called me a marshmallow," Chris said.

"Really?" He sank into the chair across from him. "So you are going to melt if dunked into hot chocolate?"

"Oh, I think he's met his hot chocolate," Frida chuckled, rising from the couch. Chris rolled his eyes, wishing his parents would stop embarrassing him.

"Who is it?" His father asked, getting the cue.

Before Chris could say it was nothing and no one, Frida seized the opportunity.

"His new friend," she announced from the kitchen.

"She isn't a friend," Chris asserted.

"No," Frida chuckled. "But I have a feeling she will be."

---

The evening was clear and starlit. Despite the crisp air, it was pleasant enough to be outdoors. On his way back from his parents' house, Chris saw squirrels everywhere, collecting apples, nuts, berries, acorns and whatever else they could find. Most of them looked chubby already, twitching their fluffy tails and scurrying across the road. Chris had to honk at a few of them to chase them to a safe spot.

It was Sunday evening, the start of another long week. As much as he loved his job, sometimes he just needed to get away. He was glad his parents still lived in their countryside house. It was his escape, and he knew he was welcome all the time.

When he turned on to the lane where his house was, he saw Luciana sitting on the front steps of Elijah's house, unmindfully picking up acorns and tossing them across the grass. A squirrel was appearing from his hideout and surreptitiously collecting the acorns, and it made Chris laugh. Either the squirrel was too brave or he didn't find Luciana intimidating at all.

She looked up when his car approached, not turning her gaze away like all the other times. Chris stopped in his driveway, his eyes never losing the sight of her face. In a pair of pajamas and a loose t-shirt, hair unkempt and feet bare, Luciana looked resigned and despondent. He also thought she'd become thinner than when he had first seen her, not taking him long to realize that she hadn't been eating well. Her cheeks were sunken, eyes lifeless, lips parched.

"Hey," he said cautiously from a distance with a slight wave of his hand. "How are you?"