Rightfully Hers

III

Picture of Isabelle above.

ISABELLE

"Mommy, can we get a cat?"

I glanced down at the brunette who was staring up at me with her big, baby blue eyes. My heart seized when I saw her hopeful expression, her tiny hand wrapped around her favourite cat plush toy.

"Aunt Cassie is allergic to cats," I told her softly. Her lips curled downwards into a small frown and then she smiled again, enlightening her soft features.

"Can we get a cat when Aunt Cassie dies?"

"Sure," I responded lightly. She made a fist and whispered, "Yes!"

Arabelle walked around my large mahogany desk and climbed onto a chair on the opposite side. Her feet only reached the edge of the chair and she hugged her plush cat, Minnie, to her chest.

"Mommy, can we get a gerbil?" She asked again, tilting her head ever so slightly so her dark brown locks cascaded over her left shoulder.

"Wolves don't like gerbils, Ari. When you shift for the first time, you'll want to eat the gerbil," I told her honestly. Her face shifted in thought, and then she nodded in understanding.

"Can you make me eggs?" She suddenly asked. I nodded at her and she shrieked in excitement, scooting off the chair and running toward my office door. "Eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs!" She screamed and ran out the door.

I followed behind her, smiling at my pack members as they passed me in the wide hallways. I could hear my daughter's enthusiastic tone from the kitchen as she laughed and ran around, her shoes clicking against the tiled floor.

"Aunt Cassie," I heard you once her footsteps slowed to a stop.

"Yes, kiddo?" My best friend responded, her voice in the soft tone it always was when she spoke to Arabelle. Her and her mate had been trying for months, but to no avail. It was clear she desperately wanted a child of her own.

"How old are you?" Arabelle asked. 

I stepped into the kitchen and smiled at the scene; Cassandra was sitting on the kitchen floor across from my daughter, her back against the large kitchen island. She was almost as tall as Arabelle was, although she was standing up, Minnie clenched in her right hand as always.

"I'm nineteen," Cass responded, perking a dark eyebrow.

"Then you'll be twenty?" Arabelle asked.

"Yes."

"And then you'll be dead."

"Ari!" I burst out, trying to contain my laughter. Arabelle glanced over her shoulder and up at me, her ocean eyes laced with confusion.

"What did I do now?" She responded with a dramatic sigh.

"You can't tell Aunt Cassie that she'll be dead," I scolded gently, still chuckling at the fact she'd said it in the first place. My daughter had always been intelligent beyond comprehension with the wit of someone much older. My opinion may have been bias, but she was my little girl.

"Why not? I want a cat." She frowned, then looked at Cass. "Aunt Cassie, I love you very much, but you need to die so I can get a cat."

She furrowed her eyebrows together and then nodded at Arabelle
"I'll try very hard for you."

"Great, thanks! Can I have eggs now, Mommy?"

"Yes, you can. Would you like to help?"

Before I could even finish my sentence, my overly enthusiastic child screamed again and ran out of the kitchen only to come back seconds later holding a plastic step. "So I can reach," she explained with a nod.