Vicki Essex - Her Son's Hero

“No. Well, yes. Let’s get out of here.” She pounded up the steps, careful not to touch anything.

When they reached the kitchen, Fiona kept shaking her hair.

“How about some tea?” Dom offered slowly, watching her nervous twitching with concern. “I’ve got this great jasmine green tea. It’s very good for soothing nerves.”

She gave her head one last shake before folding her hands and nodding resolutely.

“Sorry I screamed in your face,” she said, once they’d settled down with their little clay cups of tea. “I hate spiders.”

“I figured.”

“No, I mean, I really hate them.”

“That’s okay. Fear’s a good thing. It lets us know we’re alive.” He said softly, “Don’t tell anyone, but…I’m afraid of mice.”

“Mice?” She raised an eyebrow. “What’s so scary about them?”

“I just can’t stand all those squeaking noises, and their little pink tails…. And don’t get me started on rats!” He shuddered.

“I’d brave a vat of mice and rats over a tank of spiders any day.”

“Let’s make a deal then. I’ll get rid of all the spiders in your house if you get rid of any mice that show up in mine.” They laughed together.

Hearing about each other’s quirky phobias opened a door that Fiona forced herself to step through.

“I want to apologize,” she blurted, before pride could stop her, “for the way I’ve been treating you. Not just today, but from the moment we met. It’s just that…seeing Sean come home all roughed up…” She spread her hands helplessly. “I just blew up, and you were unfortunate enough to be in my line of fire. It wasn’t the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood. Not at all.” Her apology loosened the knot in her gut.

Dom leaned forward. “Listen…it’s not my place to tell you how to raise your son. But I was bullied a lot as a kid, too, so I know what he’s going through.”

“You were bullied?” She had a hard time imagining anyone picking on him.

“You don’t have to be small or weak to be a victim. Just different.”

Sadly, Sean was all those things. “Try to understand. I don’t want Sean fighting. I don’t want him to think fists will solve all his problems. His father…” She hesitated. “My ex-husband wasn’t very tolerant or patient. He brought a lot of anger and violence into the house.”

In an instant, Dom’s expression turned dark and fierce. Fiona nearly inched away from him. “Did he hurt you? Did he hurt Sean?” His voice was low, dangerous, almost a growl. The hairs on her neck rose.

“No, no, Mitch wasn’t like that. I guess you could say it was verbal and emotional abuse.” But she refrained from admitting she had always been afraid he would snap one day and take his threats further.

“Sean’s had enough of that kind of fear in his life,” she went on. “I know the situation with those bullies is bad, but…” She trailed off. It was frustrating feeling so powerless, so inadequate, so incapable of protecting her son, the one person who mattered to her most.

“Let me teach Sean,” Dom said.

“What?”

“You said he’s been kicked out of Saturday fun camp. Sensei Miwa has a youth beginners’ class at nine in the morning on Saturdays. Bring him to the class, and I’ll keep an eye on him for the rest of the day while you work.”

“Absolutely not,” Fiona said, alarmed by the suggestion. “I barely know you.”

“You live across the street from me. And you work across the street from the dojo. Sensei Miwa will be on-site at all times. Sean’s perfectly safe.”

“I thought I made it clear I don’t want him learning how to fight.”

“He’d be learning self-defense,” Dom countered in his calm, resonant voice. “I can show him techniques to disable his opponents long enough that he could get away. It would be good for his self-confidence.”

“Look, I appreciate your offer, but Sean is my—”

“Do you think you can protect him when he hits thirteen? Fourteen? Seventeen? Twenty?”

Fiona breathed deeply, counting to ten and letting the tension drain from her. “I know you have ideas of what might benefit Sean, but this is something I need to work out on my own.”

Dom’s concerned expression told her he wasn’t going to push it, even if he also seemed to be sizing up an opponent.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him about it, at least. And that you’ll think about my offer,” he said.

As if. How could she possibly trust Dom with her son if she couldn’t trust herself with the man?

A WEEK AND A HALF AFTER Dom’s arrival in town, mixed martial arts suddenly became the latest craze and Salmon River’s favorite sport. Fiona hadn’t realized just how well-known Dominic “The Dominator” Payette was until she started hearing his name on the lips of every customer at the bookstore.

From them she learned about his upcoming championship title match, and about the three exhibition matches he’d lost in the past few months. It was more than she really wanted or needed to know about her neighbor, but the details trickled in as steadily as the boys—and girls—who came in, wanting to learn more about the mixed martial arts hero.

“I guess I’d better stock up. I’m nearly out of books about MMA,” her boss, Marion Leeds, said as yet another parent and child walked out with a book about mixed martial arts. She flipped through a volume, grinning at the pictures of shirtless men grappling together. “That’s one heck of a sport.” She fanned herself.

“I’d hardly call punching and kicking someone until they bleed a sport,” Fiona said. To her, fighting was fighting, and self-defense was just another form of it. Sean should be learning to avoid violence. Besides, the last thing she wanted was for him to think he could actually take someone on and win. He was sure to get hurt.

Still, she knew Dom was at least partially right about her son’s self-confidence. Earlier in the week, she’d gone to pick him up from school, and found Rene Kirkpatrick’s gang taunting him from the other side of the fence. “Baby boy, baby boy, mama’s little baby boy!” they’d cried.

Sean’s face had gone nearly purple with suppressed rage. Fiona’s praise for his keeping it together was met by the most scathing backlash yet.

“Well, someone calls it a sport,” Marion countered. “And if it gets people reading and buying, it’s all good to me. I’m going to see what I can order in for a fast turnaround.” She headed to the back room, tucking the book filled with semiclad men under her arm.

Sean had a doctor’s appointment on Main Street after school. Fiona picked him up and parked back at the bookstore. As they passed the dojo, Sean was drawn to the huge windows.

“Hey, Mom, look, it’s Dom!”

She balked, but followed him to the window. Dom was wearing a gi—the traditional white karate uniform—his chest bare beneath the loose-fitting top, intense concentration carved into his face. He was taking his frustrations out on a punching bag braced by Mako Miwa.

Sean rapped on the glass and yelled, “Dom! Hi, Dom!”

“Sean, that’s rude.” Fiona wanted to hustle her son away before she was forced to meet Dom’s gaze. “He’s training. He doesn’t need to be bothered.”

But Dom turned and said something to his teacher, who nodded and went to the door.

Mako Miwa was Salmon River’s only Japanese resident, so Fiona knew him on sight. He was a compact man, half a head shorter than Dom, neither fat nor thin, with slick black hair and near-black eyes. His air of dignity and serenity told Fiona he’d seen the greater part of his life.

She remembered him once waving at her and Sean after a particularly nasty fistfight between Sean and some kids from school. Everyone else in town had steered clear of them, but Mako Miwa had seemed unaware of their plight, and had simply smiled.