Custody of Evita

CHAPTER 1

The little girl was crying, on the sidewalk outside Fitzherbert's Arcade. Acacia crouched in front of the child, ascertaining the tears welled from uncertainty rather than panic. Acacia, being the eldest in the family had helped raise the tailenders of her mother's six other children so knew how to read signs and how to react.

"Oh my your dress is really pretty."

The child looked a little apprehensive but then read Acacia with growing interest and said confidently, "It's my best dress."

"Well your mommy did well in buying that dress," and looking around Acacia asked, "Where's mommy?"

"Gone to heaven. Daddy says I'm not allowed to cry."

"Well, um, no if that's what daddy said. Acacia's mind was reeling and she didn't know what to say next but fortunately a guy in jeans and a grubby T-shirt said, "Evita, I told you to wait outside the DVD rental."

"Daddy it was just a little walk. This lady says my dress is pretty."

Acacia, although shy of men, said, "Yes it is pretty. You did well buying it?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"A woman who cares who saw your daughter crying so attempted to comfort her."

Acacia saw the signs of a guy about to blow his top, so she said, "I take it you are not an irresponsible father?"

The dark hair guy showing at least two day's stubble looked as if she'd stopped him with an elephant gun.

"Irresponsible? Me? You have no idea."

"Please keep calm, I only said were you? Don't be so defensive."

A bus pulled in alongside them with a squeal of brakes. "Your daughter could have kept wandering and been in front of that bus."

"Oh god."

"On the other hand she appears quite mature for her age. What is she, five."

"Five and about three months."

"About three months. Don't you know?"

"Go to hell. Come on Evita."

"Goodbye pretty lady."

Mr Grumpy glanced back at Acacia waving to Evita and muttered, "Yes she is beautiful," leaving behind a slightly improved impression that perhaps he might have just being exhibiting guilt of having displayed faulty childcare.

Acacia dawdled along the sidewalk in the direction they'd taken, window shopping like a person with time on her hands and turned into a fish shop where she selected salmon fillets for herself and her brother who was staying with her. She sighed thinking a week with Peter in the apartment was trying because his idea of conversation was answering questions and he was so untidy. But perhaps that was not uncommon for a nineteen-year old baby of the family. There was a 10-year age gap between them and he'd grown up being spoilt by three sisters and wow, hadn't self-survival at college been a shock to him. On that subject Peter had felt obliged to string together whole series of completed sentences to describe awakening in reality with a roommate who wanted everything his way.

Although it was 10:50 he greeted her with a hi and asked, "What's for breakfast?"

"And good morning to you Peter. Switch off TV and open the curtains and switch off the lights. God, every light in the apartment is on even my bedroom light. Why is that on?"

"I went looking for you. I was hungry."

Acacia sighed. "Have a shower and a shave in your preferred order and then come to the kitchen. It's lunchtime. I'll teach you how to make omelet."

"Aw, do I have to?"

"Not if you prefer to head back to college now, a day early.

Peter couldn't believe he'd cooked his own omelet and sitting watching Acacia eat hers became almost a conversationalist.

"Why aren't you married?"

"Perhaps I'm the ugly duckling of the family."

"No you're not. You are the most attractive female in our family and your personality is compelling."

"Compelling?"

"Irresistible. God you went to college. You must know what it means?"

"Pardon me darling it was such a shock finding you knew the meaning of the word and used it in a novel manner."

"Girls at college force you to talk like that to them otherwise there're off to find someone else."

"Then why haven't you charmed me all week during the little time we've had together including this morning when I awoke you to see if you wanted to accompany me shopping your reply was 'Oh crap off'?

"Sorry."

"Please answer the question Peter."

"Because it's a pain having to modify to relate to girls and tutors. It has been so cool being here with you and relaxing, being myself. Obviously you have a similar problem with men."

"What?"

"You don't relate to them like they expect. You are a bit of all right. I reckon all my pals would go around the block with you because you have all the assets and in good supply."

"May we talk about something else?"

"Sure and I'll repeat my unanswered question. Why hasn't a guy cut you out of the herd?"

Panic ripped through Acacia. This oaf posing as a would-be attorney rehearsing in cross-examination mode had her pinned to the wall. She had to be dismissive.

"Because men of my age are too busy carving out their careers. Now be a good boy and clear away. I'm off to tint my hair." But she may as well been talking to the door.

"Men are never too busy when it's sex in the offing."

"Offing – who taught you that word?"

"You are diverting sis. Guys don't notice you because you act primly, speak primly and cover up primly. God you dress even more conservatively than mom."

"Peter, for god's sake. You can't converse with me in this manner. You are delving into my persona uninvited and outlandishly."

"Outlandishly. You have to be kidding. You accuse me of living in a cave. So I open up. And then what happens? You then attempt to boot me back into my intellectual conferment."

"This is crazy, all too crazy for words. I'm off to do my hair."

"I rest my case your honor. Miss Acacia Phelps, unmarried school teacher, is doomed to remain a spinster for the rest of her life."

Acacia left the room before she was provoked enough to murder her accuser.

Later, looking in the bathroom mirror with a plastic bag over her hair, she smiled and said, "Bah, who'd marry you Miss Spinster Phelps."

That evening after clearing away the remains of a sensationally meal of baked crusted-top salmon that had left Peter raving Acacia said, "Come on, let's go to a bar."

Peter reacted as if his sister had uttered her first-ever profanity.

"It's only a bar, not a whorehouse that I want you to accompany me."

He grinned and asked his sister had she ever been in a bar.

Laughing Acacia said she'd been carried out of a few by her girlfriends when at college.

"No I mean post-college."

"I seem to recall two occasions. Birthday bashes but left early to avoid misbehavior."

"Jesus."

"It's how I live Peter. Go brush your teeth and grab a jacket."

It was Saturday night so the bar was fairly crowded and obviously some patrons had been there for a very long time. Acacia slipped her brother a hundred bucks and said, "Just keep them coming partner." She knew that had been a mistake because he handed her a beer.

"You'll like it," he said confidently. "Some of the chicks at college drink it. That beer is produced by a boutique brewery with a lightness and reduced alcohol content designed to appeal to women."

Miss Know-all said she wouldn't like it but was pleasantly surprised.

Next he produced a Martini.

"I wanted something new. We had Martinis before dinner."

He grinned and said shut-up and sip.

"Wow," she gurgled, clutching at her throat. "What is this?"

"A strong Vodka-based Martini. A little different to the flavored insipid ones you serve eh?"

Big-eyed, Acacia said, "This is a power-drink."

"Yeah. Tell a guy you'd like to learn how to make real Martinis and you'll hit a response cord. He'll look at you and think hey he didn't know you shared one of his interests. So he'll invite you round and make you a graduate of his Martini school and before you know it your legs will be over his shoulders and he'll be pumping and you'll be shouting 'Martinis forever'."

"Peter, you can't talk to your sister like that."

"I know, but I just did. Neat huh?"

Well, what could she say? She knew anyway that Peter wouldn't be expecting an answer so said, "Tell me about the babes in here you'd think about attempting to pick up."

"Like most guys I look at the blondes first but hope I'll end up with a brunette – solid campaigners say the real women are brunettes but expect exceptions. I'd look at that blonde to your right and I'd think, nah her eyes are too close together and her tits are too small."

"What is wrong with small... um?"

Peter smiled and told her to say it.

"Tits."

"Well sis, sex is playtime and bigger tits give a guy more to play with. It's as simple as that."

"Um do you ever... with tits?"

"I've learned to try it only by invitation. It can be such a waste of time. But if the babe invites you, suggesting it and pulls you on to her that way you can bet she believes she's pretty good at it. Then when a babe simply gives you a sweet smile and pulls out a little container and dribbles lube down into that valley it's really time to lick your lips and grin."

"Um, moving on Peter there's an attractive brunette over there."

"No way, see how laid-back she is. She talks with little animation and scarcely moves. The bet is she'll be like that in bed, lethargic."

"What about that brunette with the big red ear-rings."

"She'll be hot as hot. I've been looking at her. Her energy is obvious and her expressions and gestures say to me she is a honey pot waiting to explode. She knows it and the big guy with her knows it and they'll probably do it in the parking lot over the hood of his car."

"The slut."

"Possibly but then again if you a ready to explode you might seize the first opportunity to scream, "Take me tiger."

"God, how primitive."

"Sis, there are all shades of sex. You sit on that drink and your nightcap will be a whisky."

"I don't like whisky."

"Well you might like Mr Tom Collins."

Acacia walked back to the apartment without need of assistance, although she did take Peter's arm. Inside she save him a rather wet and long kiss and he pushed her away and grinned, saying nothing. She colored, he winked and went over to find the day bed ready for him.

"I didn't see you do that."

"I did it while you were in the bathroom before we went out. Men are unaware of most things a woman does around the home. Good night Peter. You are becoming an interesting and lovely man."

Now who was blushing?

Acacia said goodbye to him on Monday morning, Peter having decided there was a bus he could take and arrive at college with half an hour to spare.

"Don't forget to clean up before you leave."

"Okay and don't you forget to regard finding a man is like a project requiring strategy, planning and implementation."

They kissed warmly.

Acacia arrived home late afternoon to find the apartment looking almost immaculate but with most of the lights on. She smiled a little wanly, missing Peter already.

On Tuesday Acacia received a late call asking if she could fill in at ballet. Although not trained as a tutor she'd been a ballerina until midway through her freshman year at college so was on the emergency help list of her old ballet school. She arrived to find a guy having words with the director.

"I wanted my daughter to have the best tuition available."

"Well locally you have come to the right place. The problem, Mr Mitchell is Evita doesn't..."

"Pretty lady!" called Evita.

Already a little agitated and now seeing his daughter clutching the upper thigh of a stranger, Mr Mitchell scowled.

"Come along darling," Acacia said, taking the child by the hand. "It's not true you don't like ballet, is it?"

"I like you."

"Oooh, that's a start. You can watch and join in when you're ready."

Mike playing the big guy said, "If you instruct ballet I want my daughter on the floor with anyone else but you. I'm coming to keep an eye on you."

"It is the policy of this school to allow parents to watch provided they remain passive and are not grumpy."

The director Mrs Roberts looked surprised a new rule was being imposed whereas the normal rule was unconditional access for parents or guardians.

Acacia eyed the guy, knowing she looked reasonably attractive and tidy although she'd come straight from teaching all day. "Well?"

Mrs Roberts had never seen Acacia this aggressive and was wondering about intervening when Mr Mitchell's face darkened but he said, "Good, I'd expect to have proper control exerted."

Just as Mrs Roberts began to relax Acacia said, "And that rule applies to you in particular Mr Mitchell."

Mr Mitchell appeared to be counting to three and then said, "No problem."

Watching them go into the classroom Mrs Roberts recalled that some men respond well when treated like errant teenagers, believing being they were conditioned to expect such treatment. Well, of any tutor around who could connect the child to ballet it would be, er, 'pretty lady'. Part of the problem was the child was over five whereas the class had mostly started when they were four, a few even younger.

"Good afternoon class."

"Good afternoon Miss Phelps."

"This afternoon we have a newcomer to our class and her name is Evita. She is a dear friend of mine so I'd like you all to be lovely to you as she has just started ballet but has sat on the bench from what she'd told me. I'd like Evita to be out here with you young trainees. Is there someone who will be mother to Evita until she gains experience? Like some of you Evita has only one parent. She lives with her daddy."

"Pick me Miss Phelps."

Acacia had taken this class before and one of the five girls who's called out to volunteered was the one she'd hoped to pair Evita with because she already showed signs of being gentle and patient and yet was not at all shy.

"Thank you Angela. Please come and take Evita back to your position."

"I want to stay with you."

"Evita please. Either you go with Angela who has a sister your age or you go and sit with daddy."

"That's my daddy over there," Evita said proudly.

Mr Mitchell was the only male in a group of mothers, day care helpers or grandmothers. The class clapped spontaneously pleasing Acacia but pleasing Evita as well because she held up her hand for Angela.

Following all that on closed circuit TV in her office Mrs Roberts could only marvel. Occasionally the school had a difficult class and this was one of them, unruly. Two other tutors had worked with them besides Barbara Duff, all with mixed success. But with Acacia they acted liked lambs. Mrs Roberts knew why and watched to see Acacia virtually slay them where they stood. Acacia still went to yoga and Pilates classes so had not lost her suppleness.

"Well class let's warm up together and then I demonstrate to remind you everything you have learned to date and that Mrs Young will play and I'll dance showing each one of those steps in my dance but then for the benefit of Evita I'll do a section of proper ballet from one of my favorites, Giselle.

Mrs Roberts knew that especially the grandmothers would welcome this, expecting their granddaughters to be as good a dancer or perhaps better than Acacia which was unlikely. Mrs Roberts had tutored at the school and then purchased it and in twenty-two years had not had the pleasure of bringing on such a successful student as Acacia. The girl had professional ballerina written all over within three years of starting as a four-year-old but would later say no, she wanted to be an elementary school teacher.

Although Mrs Roberts could see Acacia had on slippers she was in her work attire and Mr Mitchell was about to see a pair of beautiful legs up as far as legs went. She hoped Mr Mitchell would regard this display, er this display of ballet as a treat because that would mean a grumpy father being won over. It was likely he'd see his Evita as being Miss Phelps by the time she was fourteen.

The class went through its routine and when she was concentrating Evita showed touches of promise and appeared athletic. Miss Phelps asked them to sit and went through their routine for them as a dance.

Mike Mitchell watched Evita's lovely lady do the routine and thought not bad but it was scarcely demanding was it. Maria had been a professional dancer when they'd met but gave up her career when pregnant with Evita. Maria would have been all over this young woman.

But there was a pause as Mrs Young switched to the grand piano and even as the introduction was being played Mike could see a chance come over Miss Phelps. Her facial expression seemed to reduce to just a soft smile and her entire statue seemed to soften. And then she danced. As the red skirt flew high he saw the most wonderful pair of legs he'd ever seen. Maria had great lower legs but had been heavy thighed. And the grace of Miss Phelps – although she must be out of training at her age as apparently she was a school teacher, Mike knew she was something. He could see Evita if she developed the interest being like Miss Phelps by the time she was fifteen, possibly being even better.

After that all too short exhibition Mike was astonished to see the look of raptor on kids so young, including Evita. Oh god, Miss Phelps would now be her heroine, developing a mother fixation. Fortunately Miss Phelps only came in when Miss Duff wasn't available. Now Mrs Roberts was at his side.

"Miss Phelps will report to me after this class ends whether she thinks Evita should start with this class or drop down to the four-year olds. It's not an easy decision to make and it will have to be ratified by Miss Duff next week but I would think she won't wish to overturn Miss Phelps decision because Miss Duff and Miss Phelps are longtime friends and competed against each other in their younger days. You may sit in the discussion with Evita if you wish."

"Yes, thank you. But will Evita cope with such a discussion about her."

"You obvious don't know Miss Phelps. She is the type of woman who might assist you Mr Mitchell, I mean as a friendly consultant. She will run rings about those tired and over-worked consultants from child welfare."

"Can you be certain about that" Child welfare consultants are experts in their field."

"I'm as sure about that as my name is Sarah Roberts. You may call me Sarah Mr Mitchell. I feel you won't be about to keep Evita away from here. Look at the bond she and Angela are displaying already."

"Call me Mike. Sarah is it possible for Evita to receive one-on-one coaching?"

"Yes. I suggest we wait till we hear from Miss Phelps."

CHAPTER 2

Bouncing up and down inside her vehicle restraint, Evita chanted "I'm going to ballet, I'm going to ballet and Miss Phelps will teach me."

Mike had been responding to the wish Maria had expressed before she finally was taken by cancer: ballet lessons for Evita. He smiled and wondered at the huge change in attitude Evita had for ballet in only eight days. Initially Evita had fought against staying at the school once she'd seen what was involved and noted the other students already knew what to do. But Acacia, as he'd been invited to call Miss Phelps before delivering her report, had been wonderful. Acacia said she believed Evita would make quicker and better progress if she stayed with her age group and recommended Evita take eight twice-weekly coaching lessons to get her up to speed.''

Mrs Roberts said vaguely she wondered who could perform the coaching. Mike suggested instantly, "Acacia. She already has wonderful rapport with my daughter."

"Acacia?"

"Well Mrs Roberts I would be pleased to assist, say on Wednesday at 3.45 and on Saturday mornings at 9:00 for the half-hour lessons. However I could adjust times to suit Mr Mitchell."

"No those days are fine. I work from home as a consulting engineer so my time is flexible. Um, what about increasing the coaching lessons to an hour and then Evita would learn twice as fast."