Exiled to Paradise - Vignettes - 3. Chapter 3

This story contains anthropomorphic people ("furries") and humans living together. It contains teenagers in a private school setting, potentially interacting in adult situations. If this is morally or legally objectionable to you or the area in which you live, please do not read any further.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters, settings, and events are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or any location, real or fictional, is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Exiled to Paradise and all characters, settings, and events included therein are the property of the author, except where otherwise noted in individual chapters. The story or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the explicit written consent of the author.

The sobbing jaguar let himself be urged to stand, let himself be led out of the room and down the hall. He had no idea where he was going, he didn't hear the soft words of sympathy being spoken. The only thing he could see was the pallid, grey skin of the man he'd called father for ten years, the tubes invading the old man's mouth and nose, and the unmoving, lax expression cenetered around those closed eyes. He finally stopped and hugged himself tight to the taller man who'd led him out. The seemingly ancient human stood, then slowly closed his arms around the grieving feline. "Come now, master Harcourt, let's get you home."

The next few days went by in a haze. After the first day's seemingly unending stream of ranch hands and their families coming by with their condolences, William retreated to his room, only emerging for the meals still being prepared by his adoptive father's cook. He spent his time staring at the few photographs on his desk: William at age six with his real dad, in front of the ferris wheel at a county fair; the jaguar at age 12 with mister and missus Iverson, about to become his adoptive father and mother, at his dad's funeral; him in mourning clothes again two years later for missus Iverson's funeral; and finally, his high school graduation picture, he and his best friend friend from high school waving their mortar boards, with Father standing behind them.

He didn't spend the time idle; his thoughts were consumed, reliving the hurts he'd caused the old man. From his mindless anger after his true father's death, to the joy he took in teenage rebellion, to his spiteful decision to stay at college instead of coming home for vacations, having only returned home once in the three and a half years since his high school graduation, he relived each moment, repeated each anger-bitten word, and despised himself for it.

A soft knock at the door, and an equally soft voice. "Mister Harcourt? ... Will? May I come in?"

William bent over, burying his face in his hands. No, go away and leave me alone. You shouldn't see me like this, you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't like me.

The door creaked open, and a pale-skinned, round face peeked in. "Will?" the teenaged boy asked again. Then, without waiting for an answer, he slipped the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him.

The jaguar looked up from his hands, eyes red, cheek fur matted down. "Ty..." he croaked, then tried to clear his throat.

Before he could get out another word, the teen was on the bed next to him, pulling him into a hug. "Sshhh," the boy said softly. "I miss him too. It's okay to cry, Will."

"You don't understand!" came the strangled reply, as William's hands beat against the human's back. The blackfurred hands quickly calmed again, but without any matching peace for the rest of the jaguar. "You don't understand," he repeated, then continued, "I didn't even know he was sick. My own father, or as close as I can get, and I didn't talk to him enough to know he had cancer for a year!" William pulled back from his friend, blinking unseeingly. "I .. shouldn't be here. I should go." The jaguar's suddenly calm words were matched by him turning and standing from the bed. Only the boy's sudden grip on his arm kept him from moving further.

"Will, wait!" Ty swallowed, then said, "Please... your father's attorney will be here tomorrow. You're the only family he had left. Please, please stay."

William stood stock-still, his arm tensing under Ty's hands, but not pulling away. They stayed like that for minutes, Ty gripping his best friend's arm, William standing and looking at the floor, until a shiver ran through the jaguar's body. After a single nod, Ty reluctantly let go his deathgrip, but stayed seated on the bed, watching the feline, as William turned away from him and curled over in more, near-silent sobs. As Ty sat wondering what to do, he heard through those sobs the jaguar's broken pleas. "Forgive me father.. I'm sorry, I don't deserve it, but please forgive me..."

This story contains anthropomorphic people ("furries") and humans living together. It contains teenagers in a private school setting, potentially interacting in adult situations. If this is morally or legally objectionable to you or the area in which you live, please do not read any further.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters, settings, and events are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or any location, real or fictional, is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Exiled to Paradise and all characters, settings, and events included therein are the property of the author, except where otherwise noted in individual chapters. The story or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the explicit written consent of the author.

The sobbing jaguar let himself be urged to stand, let himself be led out of the room and down the hall. He had no idea where he was going, he didn't hear the soft words of sympathy being spoken. The only thing he could see was the pallid, grey skin of the man he'd called father for ten years, the tubes invading the old man's mouth and nose, and the unmoving, lax expression cenetered around those closed eyes. He finally stopped and hugged himself tight to the taller man who'd led him out. The seemingly ancient human stood, then slowly closed his arms around the grieving feline. "Come now, master Harcourt, let's get you home."

The next few days went by in a haze. After the first day's seemingly unending stream of ranch hands and their families coming by with their condolences, William retreated to his room, only emerging for the meals still being prepared by his adoptive father's cook. He spent his time staring at the few photographs on his desk: William at age six with his real dad, in front of the ferris wheel at a county fair; the jaguar at age 12 with mister and missus Iverson, about to become his adoptive father and mother, at his dad's funeral; him in mourning clothes again two years later for missus Iverson's funeral; and finally, his high school graduation picture, he and his best friend friend from high school waving their mortar boards, with Father standing behind them.

He didn't spend the time idle; his thoughts were consumed, reliving the hurts he'd caused the old man. From his mindless anger after his true father's death, to the joy he took in teenage rebellion, to his spiteful decision to stay at college instead of coming home for vacations, having only returned home once in the three and a half years since his high school graduation, he relived each moment, repeated each anger-bitten word, and despised himself for it.

A soft knock at the door, and an equally soft voice. "Mister Harcourt? ... Will? May I come in?"

William bent over, burying his face in his hands. No, go away and leave me alone. You shouldn't see me like this, you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't like me.

The door creaked open, and a pale-skinned, round face peeked in. "Will?" the teenaged boy asked again. Then, without waiting for an answer, he slipped the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him.

The jaguar looked up from his hands, eyes red, cheek fur matted down. "Ty..." he croaked, then tried to clear his throat.

Before he could get out another word, the teen was on the bed next to him, pulling him into a hug. "Sshhh," the boy said softly. "I miss him too. It's okay to cry, Will."

"You don't understand!" came the strangled reply, as William's hands beat against the human's back. The blackfurred hands quickly calmed again, but without any matching peace for the rest of the jaguar. "You don't understand," he repeated, then continued, "I didn't even know he was sick. My own father, or as close as I can get, and I didn't talk to him enough to know he had cancer for a year!" William pulled back from his friend, blinking unseeingly. "I .. shouldn't be here. I should go." The jaguar's suddenly calm words were matched by him turning and standing from the bed. Only the boy's sudden grip on his arm kept him from moving further.

"Will, wait!" Ty swallowed, then said, "Please... your father's attorney will be here tomorrow. You're the only family he had left. Please, please stay."

William stood stock-still, his arm tensing under Ty's hands, but not pulling away. They stayed like that for minutes, Ty gripping his best friend's arm, William standing and looking at the floor, until a shiver ran through the jaguar's body. After a single nod, Ty reluctantly let go his deathgrip, but stayed seated on the bed, watching the feline, as William turned away from him and curled over in more, near-silent sobs. As Ty sat wondering what to do, he heard through those sobs the jaguar's broken pleas. "Forgive me father.. I'm sorry, I don't deserve it, but please forgive me..."

The attorney's meeting was hard on William. It was held in his father's study, a room he hadn't been in since he was in high school. Recalling the cherished moments spent as a youngster here, laboring over schoolwork while mister Iverson read the newspaper or studied reports from his business and ranch managers, only made the loss of closeness over the last few years hurt that much more.

Finally, it was over. The ranch would operate for another few years, until certain conditions known only to the attorney were met, then would shut down. Father's staff would be taken care of with small retirement funds; the ranch hands would be given time to find new jobs. William and Tyler both had trust funds to pay for their continuing education; the attorney assured him those trust funds should provide for as much schooling as they desired.

Then William was asked into a private meeting with the attorney. There, he was given a letter, written by his father. He nearly broke down again as he read it, but managed to hold his tears, fighting to not lose control again until he was safely back in his room.

The letter, written in his father's unmistakable hand, yet with writing so shaky it was barely legible, began:

"William, you are the son I would have wished for of my own flesh and blood. You fill me with pride and joy, and I thank you for that. I know we've grown distant these last few years. My son, you have my deepest apologies. We always think that we will have all the time we need; I never imagined that I would not be able to say these words to you in person."

It then continued with his father's last request for him; to finish his schooling, become an educator, and transform the ranch into a school and haven for humans and furs alike, where no one would fear their treatment at the hands of others simply because of being different, such as William had experienced growing up.

The attorney told William that he didn't have to answer yet. When he made up his mind, the ranch would be made ready for him, or would be sold in his name.

William returned to his room, and that night, as in the previous nights, cried himself to sleep. That night, however, the tears finally calmed him, and his dreams were peaceful.

He spent the next day wandering the ranch, talking quietly to farm hands and his father's staff, and in between just enjoying walking the grounds he'd grown up playing on. That evening, he returned to the study as the attorney was preparing to leave. His decision made, the attorney left, promising that everything would be taken care of.

"I tried, Father," the jaguar sighed softly to himself, staring at the typewritten paper on his desk after watching the sullen boy leave his office. "I've tried for 25 years. Finally, we're beginning to get humans into the school; finally, we have the opportunity to begin turning around some of those prejudices. Why now do I find that my seniormost English teacher is prejudiced? Why now do I discover a petition circling the town to ban human students except at designated schools?"

Black-furred fingers curled against the jaguar's silver-tinged forehead and muzzle. "I've failed, Father, but I won't fail that boy."