Page 15 of Bone Collector’s Mate

Chapter Twelve

Rook

I picked up Benji and took him and Orly to a late lunch at the diner. She would not take anything for her kindness to my son, and to me as well, but she liked the food there and I didn’t admit I’d be paying when we set out.

The atmosphere there was, by Whisper Grove standards, pretty cheerful, and since there were some travelers who’d stopped for a meal, everyone was looking as human as possible. With varying levels of success. A couple sitting by the window kept staring and even pointing a little, which I found interesting because if they were so good at seeing through people’s “regular” forms, they likely had something supernatural in their own genetics. And, from their reaction, they probably were unaware. Maybe some kind of latents? Or they might not ever show what lay in their cells and instead pass them on to emerge in some future generation.

In any case, they could use a course in courtesy, or their great-grand-wolf-witch-or whatever descendants would be annoyed with them.

My dining companions showed no signs of noticing, deep in a discussion of their crafting that morning. I had expected some kind of macaroni craft or maybe painting, but Orly had taken Benji out into the yard with a basket and had him collect anything that appealed to him then brought it all back in, along with some grape vines she had cut another time, and together, they made a beautiful fall wreath for our front door.

They were already planning a Thanksgiving craft while we all ate cheeseburgers and fries and the pie of the day. Apple cinnamon crunch. With ice cream. I’d been so afraid of how Benji would feel being moved away from his home and his other father no matter how neglectful he’d been. Kids were loyal people. And I had not yet given him much of an explanation for our move. He hadn’t really asked.

But I’d be damned if I did what my parents did. Unintentionally or because they didn’t know how to translate whatever their reason for moving was into kid-appropriate language, they left me hanging. And now, I’d never know unless someone in town here knew and told me.

After we left Orly at her door, we drove home, singing along to the radio while I tried to think about how to explain the mounting number of very important things he needed to know. And, as much as I hated it and had tried to tell myself Adam wouldn’t care about where we were, my panic after Benji got lost told me I did have him on my mind. He had the right to know where his son was…even if he did not deserve it. Dammit!

We pulled out into traffic, such as it was, and I thought maybe we could have a chat about at least one topic, but a glance in the rearview showed that my boy had passed out already. How did kids fall asleep so fast? Sometimes, he had a short nap in the morning, but I hadn’t remembered to tell Orly that, and it sounded like they’d been having so much fun, no sleeping had happened. The drive home didn’t take long, and I carried him in and laid him on the sofa with his head on a fluffy pillow and an afghan over his legs without him even stirring. Definitely no morning nap. Which was fine. He was taking fewer of them all the time, and he was getting a rest now. Our talk would have to wait until later.

I cooked dinner, just soup and sandwiches since we’d had such a big late lunch, and we ate together then went out and played catch in the yard for a bit. Yes, I could have talked to him then, but I was still struggling with what to say.

Bath time came and went, and when he was in his jammies, cuddled in bed, and I finished reading his third story, I set the book aside. Normally, by this point, he was if not asleep, very close. But tonight, bright eyes stared back at me, and I decided to have at least a little bit of a conversation. It didn’t all have to be in one. That thought gave me great relief.

“Benji, how do you like Whisper Grove?” Thinking all day, and that was the best I’d come up with?

“I like it, Papa. It’s not noisy like before at our house.”

“Noisy?” Did he mean arguments, which I had tried very hard to shield him from, or something else?

“All the cars and trucks and sounds from everywhere. It hurt my ears.”

“It did?” He’d never said that before.

“Yes, sometimes. I like this house and all our new friends.”

“Like Mrs. Orly?”

“She makes muffins. And pancakes.” And those things were definitely high on his list.

“True.” I kissed his forehead. “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Papa, can we go find the guy who helped me when I lost my glasses? To say thank you. Mrs. Orly says you should always say thank you when someone helps.”

“Mrs. Orly is right.” I was pretty sure I’d said the same thing. At least I hoped so. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“He would be a good dad.”

“I think you’re right. Shall we go tomorrow?”

“Yes, because it’s dark right now.”

“That’s right.”