Cantrell: The Early Years, Part SIX

Encounter of the Worst Kind, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Six, Update

Erik stood on the stage gazing into the audience. Night had fallen at this open air venue, his fans turning their phones to flashlights mode. He watched as the lights swayed before him. Back and forth, back and forth. A light, cold breeze tickled his cheek.  As he watched, a strange sense of fear rolled over him.  His wife and infant sons came to mind, and he grew anxious. Glancing back over his shoulder, he hollered to one of the stage crew, “Get my wife on the phone, would you please.” Then he waited tensely.

“Sir, I’ve tried three times. It just keeps going to voice mail.”
 Erik looked at the man, dumbfounded. Anxiety rolled over him as he’d never felt before. “Something’s not right. I have to go. Keep trying while I finish this set.”

Visibly shaken, the celebrity stepped back up the to microphone and launched into the first of three last songs.  The audience, unable to realize the star was in a bit of emotional turmoil, gave him a thunderous response. Then he closed the show with the award-winning signature song, Maybe It’s Better This Way.  

“You have been a fantastic audience. Thank you so much, but I have to leave before I freeze over! Good night and thank you!”  With that, he pulled the strap from his guitar over his head, handed the instrument to one of the roadies, shrugged quickly into a warmer outer coat and broke into a thousand shards of sparkly lights as he beamed himself home.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Kayleigh was busy spoon-feeding Andrew, when she stood upright. There is was again. The sound of wood being forced apart was unmistakable.  Don’t panic. Remain calm. She reached for her phone and called the police. “Yes, this is an emergency. Somebody is breaking into my house. I’m here alone with two infants,” she hissed into the phone. “Please hurry.” Again, the squeal of wood giving way met her ears.  Followed by the boom of a door, left to dangle on its hinges, as it was callously thrown into the side wall.

Sneaking on tiptoe, a female dressed in a black cap, black pants and a black and white stripped top made her way into the Cantrell house. Kayleigh spun on her heels. “Stop right there. Just who do you think you are breaking into my house?”
“Robin. Robin Banks,” she answered, smugly as she made her way into the dining room where Kayleigh had been feeding Andrew.  The infant still in his chair, Kayleigh made her way over to stand in front of the fireplace, hoping to draw the burglar over to herself.  The woman stepped right up to Kayleigh. “I advise you to leave at once,” Kayleigh said. “I have already alerted the police. Get out and get out now. Or I will hurt you.”

“Make me,” Robin said.  “Look, I’m just here to do a job, lady. I have to eat, too.”
“Worse mistake you’ve ever made,” Kayleigh said, as she attacked the interloper.
“Oh, owe, stop that, it hurts!”

“Pity, but I did warn you.” Kayleigh said, having won the fight, hands down.
“You haven’t seen the last of me,” Robin Banks promised.  “In fact, if my nose is broken, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
“Best of luck on that. You can’t sue me for protecting my children. You’re the one who broke into my home. And you can bet it all I will press charges.” Kayleigh said. She tried to flex her right fist, but it ached too much. Looking down at her hand she noticed the abrasion on her knuckles.

“I said, leave,” Kayleigh demanded. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I’m almost gone. . . just don’t hit me again.”

Kayleigh took Andrew out of his chair, hugging him close to her. He was clearly upset.  “I know, it’s okay, the bad person is gone. We’re safe,” she said, peeking around the arch, watching as Robin left through the open front door. “That’s right, just let the cold air in. I only have two babies here.” From the dining room, she crossed the back hallway into the kitchen, through the Maid’s Entrance and on up the stairs to the second floor.

Placing Andrew into a crib, she was amazed at just how quickly he was asleep. Andrew who had to be cajoled into sleep.  She picked up Jamison to place him back into his crib, only half aware she’d placed Andrew there, then put him into the vacant crib.  The wee one was clearly upset. She could feel him shake in her arms. The Twin Effect. Andrew was a witness and likely felt his mother’s angst. Jamison was safely upstairs through the encounter, yet he was visibly distressed.

“It’s all right, Baby Boy. Andrew is fine, Mommie is fine. We just need Daddy to get here. All is well. There, there, now. You go night-night. I’ll stay right here with you.”

All for now, thanks for reading!