Over a late breakfast, James told Henry and me about Billy letting him take over a room at Harmony House so he could put together backpacks for this year’s snack packers. As a rising senior, James had to complete a senior project for graduation, and he was committed to helping kids in the county who might not have food on the weekends or school in-service days.
I slipped Billy a small stack of bills under the table to take James shopping for more supplies. Seeing James opening up about himself made my heart swell with warmth and pride.
“Thank you.” James fiddled with the fraying edge of a cushion, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”
Before I could reply, Billy spoke. “You're family, James. And families look out for each other. No matter what happens in the future, the door here will always be open.”
Family. The word hung in the air, warm and promising. We all knew this arrangement was temporary, but in that moment, it didn't feel like it. Not when James was looking at us like we were his lifeline. Not when Henry clung to him like a big brother. Not when Billy and I were getting used to having him around.
The first week or so after he arrived, James talked about the possibility of going home at some point. He truly didn’t think his family would turn him away forever. That hope quickly faded, and I wished I could storm into the church tomorrow morning and give the Davises a piece of my mind in front of their “good” and “God-fearing” friends. That whole lot of bigots wouldn’t know how to live a Christian life if they had step by step instructions laid out before them.
But I wouldn’t because that would only make things harder for James. As I watched him and Billy playing Mario Kart together, the stress and anxiety melted away. The two talked a lot of shit and rough-housed but it was exactly what he needed.
Our tranquil afternoon was disrupted by a knock on the door. The sudden noise was like the drop of a pebble into a serene pond, ripples of disruption flowing outward. I braced myself before stepping toward the door, pulling it open to reveal Danny and Blake on the doorstep. I relaxed, but only slightly.
Danny cradled a large bag against his chest while Blake balanced a tray of cookies with the kind of care typically saved for a priceless artifact. They’d come over a couple times a week, hoping to spend some time with James so he wouldn’t feel as if he was being shuffled off to more strangers when the time came.
“Hey, Billy!” Danny's voice filled the room as they stepped inside. There was a youthful energy about him that was infectious, the living room seeming to light up in response. Billy tossed his controller as James whooped in celebration after winning the match.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over.” Billy gave his brother a hug and offered Blake a firm handshake.
Blake was a little quieter, but his smile was just as warm. “We thought we'd hang out for a bit since our plans for the day fell through,” he explained, holding out the tray to me. The cookies were still warm, the sweet aroma mingling with the familiar scent of our home.
As for the bag Danny was carrying, he was handling it as if it held the most precious thing in the world. When he finally opened it, I saw that in a way, it did. It was filled with books, all different shapes and sizes, their spines creased from use. Each book was a world in itself, and he was giving them to James.
The gesture touched me deeply. These weren't just random books picked off a shelf, but stories Danny believed James would connect with. It was a thoughtful act, showing his genuine concern and intentions for the teen. This wasn’t an obligation to Danny and Blake, they were genuinely making an effort to understand James, to connect with him on a personal level.
Danny's voice floated back to me as he began pulling books out of the bag, one by one, presenting them to James. Each title was met with a look of growing astonishment, Danny's infectious enthusiasm reflecting in the teenager's widening eyes.
“This one is a classic,” Danny was saying, holding up a worn-out copy ofTo Kill a Mockingbird. His fingers traced the creased spine with reverence. “Read it when you feel like questioning humanity and then restoring your faith in it.”
“And this one,” he held upThe Perks of Being a Wallflower, a small smile playing on his lips, “is for when you feel misunderstood, when you feel like you're standing on the fringes of life. Trust me, it helps.”
He looked at James, a silent promise passing between them. The promise of shared secrets, of shared experiences, of shared pains and joys. Danny was not just giving him books, but pieces of himself, opening a window into his soul, inviting James to do the same.
On the other side of the room, Billy watched me, his brow furrowed. I realized I'd been clenching my fists without even noticing. I tried to relax, but the knot of worry in my chest refused to loosen.
I felt as though I was watching James slowly slip away from us. I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to get attached because him staying here was only temporary, and yet I couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving.
Billy crossed the room and took my hand in his. “Hey,” he said softly, his gaze soft with understanding. His thumb gently brushed over my knuckles, a silent offer of comfort. “We'll figure this out. We always do.”
I managed a tight smile, nodding in response. I squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his unwavering faith. My eyes travelled back to James and Danny, their heads bowed together over the stack of books, their laughter filling the room. My heart ached with a cocktail of emotions, but at the forefront was an undeniable sense of love. Love for my family, for this moment, for the promise of what we could become.
* * *
Billy's parents'house was a mere ten-minute drive from ours, a quaint little farmhouse nestled on the outskirts of town. A route I'd traversed countless times, yet each twist and turn of the road was laced with an uncharacteristic sense of apprehension this time. The knot in my stomach grew progressively tighter as we got closer to their place.
How we’d managed to fly under the rest of the family’s radar as long as we had was beyond me. Once Danny and Carson knew, I’d assumed it was only a matter of hours before one of them told Anson and their parents. Since that didn’t happen, we’d decided it was time to tell them ourselves now that life was settling a bit.
Beside me, Billy drove with an easy calm, his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. The usual playful glint in his eyes was replaced with an unwavering seriousness, the gravity of our impending revelation mirrored in his demeanor. Yet, his hand found mine, a warm steady presence anchoring me amidst the storm of my turbulent thoughts.
In the back seat, Henry was a ball of barely contained excitement, his incessant chatter filling the cab. His voice, a high-pitched excited ramble about all the animals he was going to introduce James to, was a sharp contrast to the undercurrent of tension in the air. James sat beside him, a captive audience to Henry's enthusiastic monologue, a smile tugging at his lips despite the tired lines around his eyes.
The scent of fresh country air filtered through the slightly ajar windows, tinged with a hint of warm hay and blooming wildflowers. It was a smell that instantly took me back to a simpler time, to long summer afternoons spent helping Billy's father in the fields. It was a sweet yet bitter reminder of how much had changed, and how much hadn't.
Henry's squeal of delight brought me out of my spiraling thoughts as we pulled into the driveway. He practically bounced in his seat, his wide eyes taking in the barnyard full of animals. Chickens clucked around, a few goats grazed peacefully, and a horse whinnied in the distance.
His excitement was contagious, the simple joy of a child's anticipation. James, too, seemed to lighten up, his smile more genuine as he watched Henry. As they both got out of the truck and ran toward the barn, the image of their laughing figures amidst the sun-dappled green was a balm to my fraying nerves.
