Angel Girl

Chapter 3: Daniel

On a Saturday morning, Ryan slept in her bed, drooling and snoring and sounding like a bear. She had not had a restful sleep since her mother’s murder and her father’s arrest. But this time, instead of nightmares of that awful night, she dreamed of playing for the Boston Brigadiers, her favorite football team. She managed to score the final touchdown, securing a victory for the team, and sending the crowd into a frenzy. They chanted her name as the team carried her off on their shoulders. It was the proudest moment of her life.

But her euphoric dream was short-lived. Ryan awoke to the sound of Freya calling her. “Ryan, breakfast is ready!” she yelled. The young superhuman resisted getting up as she turned and put her pillow on top of her head. Her aunt continued to call her down, but Ryan ignored her, not wanting to move a muscle. Undeterred, Freya tried a different tactic: “Very well, dear niece, stay in bed. I guess I’ll throw away this perfectly prepared Ultimate Omelet with a side of sweet, sweet, cinnamon toast,” she said in a tempting, melodic tone. Ryan took the bait; her eyes popped open, and her mind quickly focused on the thought of her favorite breakfast meal. Leaping out of bed, Ryan threw on her robe and dashed downstairs to the kitchen, where Freya stood with a knowing smile in her royal purple robe and bonnet. 

“Really, Aunt Freya?” Ryan asked, speaking hoarsely. “Good morning to you,”-Freya replied with warmth and pride- “Enjoy--and you’re welcome.” Despite her lingering drowsiness, Ryan smiled at her wonderful aunt and kissed her cheek before walking into the dining room. Upon sitting down, the young girl realized that she had forgotten something. But before she could get up, Freya handed her a fork. Ryan graciously took the fork from her smiling aunt. “I swear you’re a mind reader,” she said. “My dear, we’ve done this on many mornings now. It’s become a regular routine,”- she chuckled a little as she sat down with her plate of food- “So, how did you sleep?” Freya asked, taking a bite of her chocolate chip pancakes. “Honestly, pretty good,” Ryan replied. 

Freya was genuinely surprised; it had been so long since her niece had gotten a good night’s rest. “Well, that’s good to her,” she said with relief, as she took another bite. Ryan ate her omelet slowly, savoring every bite. The juicy cut sausage, grilled peppers, sliced bacon, and roasted, seasoned potato chunks, wrapped in fluffy egg and topped with cheddar cheese, all came together forming a heavenly package wrapped in flavor. “I swear, you make the best omelette ever, Aunt Freya,” Ryan praised, putting a smile on her aunt’s face. “Your mother was the one who taught me,” Freya said. “Mom taught you?” Ryan asked with surprise. “Yes, your mother made the most exquisite omelets. Better than mine.” “C’mon,” Ryan responded with doubt. “It’s true. When I was your age, I decided to make my parents an omelet--alone. Almost burned the house down after I left it on the stove too long. My parents wouldn’t touch charred remains” Freya said with a chuckle. “I bet grandma and grandpa were mad,” Ryan said teasingly. “Indeed they were. They said I was never allowed to cook in the kitchen again.” The ladies shared a laugh. “But I improved after that, thanks to your mother.” Ryan’s smile faded away as memories of her mother filled her mind, and looked down with sorrow. “I miss Mom.”

Freya, feeling deeply sympathetic, placed her hand on her niece’s shoulder. “As do I, Ryan. As do I.”

Just then, the house phone rang, jostling the ladies out of their thoughts. “Seriously? Who would be calling this early in the morning?” Freya asked in annoyance, getting up and walking over to the kitchen entryway to answer the phone. “Hello?” she said, and a chill went down her spine when she recognized the caller’s voice. “I told you to never call this number again…. She won’t agree to it, not after what you’ve done years ago…. I doubt that…,”- Freya sighs reluctantly- “Fine,” she said, as she hung up and returned to the dining room. “Everything okay, Aunt Freya?” Ryan asked, growing concerned. Freya couldn’t bring herself to lie to her; she wasn’t fond of lying anyway. But she did worry over how her niece would react to knowing who had just called. “It’s your father. He wants to see you,” she said hesitantly. Ryan fell silent. All these years without a word from Daniel, and now he wanted to speak with her? She couldn’t believe it. “Forget it,” Ryan replied dismissively and resumed eating. “Why?” Freya asked.