A few seconds later, Alejo came up the path, smiling. “Hello again,” he said.
Wendy could not prevent a smile back. “Dinner’s on.”
“Am I invited?”
“I made enough lasagna to feed a horde,” Wendy said.
“I will include myself in that horde, if I may,” he replied, and, “Hi, there, Sam,” he added as Sam appeared.
Sam’s shoulders hiked up under his ears and he sped up. Wendy held her breath, but Alejo didn’t speak louder, or even worse, make jocular comments about “Cat got your tongue?” or “Looks like someone forgot his manners!” in a poisonously sweet voice, the way her ex-mother-in-law tended to do.
Alejo hopped up the steps, saying, “I’ll wash my hands. Need help with anything?”
“No, thank you,” she said a little breathlessly as Sam’s shoulders dropped, and he scampered inside and sped to their bathroom.
When Wendy brought out the dinner, she discovered everybody around the table. Eve was actually smiling! She said to Alejo in what for her was a cordial voice, “So what did you do today? Sightseeing?”
“A bit,” he replied. “Godiva had some errands she wanted me to see to.”
Eve grunted as she passed the salad bowl. “I was going to say, there isn’t much in the way of stuff for tourists here. It’s a quiet town. We used to have some cave paintings, which some said were leftovers from Sixties parties, and others insisted were ancient, but a landslide took out our one claim to fame.”
“What you don’t have in famous sights you’ve got in good eateries,” he said. “There aren’t many Vietnamese places in my part of Kentucky. The place I had lunch at was fantastic.”
“We’ve got three Vietnamese places. All of them are delicious,” Eve said. “Best, though, is the Sichuan place. That is, if you can handle spicy.”
“I used to go with my dad on horse rescues,” Alejo said, smiling across the table at Wendy. “So I’m familiar with Texas chili. It was good, but hot. Like, real hot. As in, for about two weeks after coming back, every time I sneezed I was afraid I’d set the couch on fire.”
Everyone laughed. Wendy noticed Sam’s lips parting. Of course he didn’t speak. But he looked from one to the other, as if he was thinking about maybe laughing. Only if nobody heard him.
She found herself torn when people began to get up and move to the TV room. While she’d enjoyed having Alejo here, she was unsettled by this living reminder of how she must put up with Bill’s belittling and petty warfare in the belief that a boy ought to have his father.
And when she got to her room after everything was done, there was a blinking light on her phone: message. When she saw Bill’s name, she groaned. Click: “My parents are back from their trip, and they want Samuel for dinner Saturday night. He needs to practice manners forpolitecompany if he’s ever going to get anywhere in life, so don’t send clothes fit for hobos like usual...”
Would heeverget tired of sniping at her?
“… and make sure Sam is out front and ready at seven sharp on Saturday morning. Sevensharp.”
Which would more than likely end up being more like eight-thirty, or even nine, if Bill followed his usual pattern of making them wait.
Wendy erased it. She hated leaving Bill’s caustic voice on her phone. At least Bill never took his mandated forty-eight hours, if he took Sam at all. Bill would never forgo the Friday night meetings of the Baker Street Writers’ Group just for Sam.
Which was why Wendy did not join that group, though Godiva had tried numerous times to encourage her to join.
FOUR
WENDY
Suddenly it was Thursday, which meant Barnyard Fundraiser Night.
Sam arrived home from school owl-eyed at the prospect of all those parents staring. He rattled off his squirrel poem several times, and went to his room to check on his costume as if it might escape and run out to the trees to join the real squirrels. He scarcely ate any of his mac’n’cheese—his favorite comfort food—and even took a bath unasked.
Wendy consciously slowed him down, using her calmest voice. Everything was planned, she kept reassuring him. They would be there in plenty of time.
“Let’s go now,” Sam said. “I can’t be late.”
“How about we go early, then? We have ten minutes. We could walk around and see what the school looks like at night, and you can practice your poem again. How’s that?” She tried to sound bright and cheerful, but to her ears she only sounded shrill.
But Sam nodded eagerly, and then, his eyes huge behind his glasses, he said, “Do you have Flossie ready?”
