His expression remains neutral, eyes fixed on the boys now inside the small enclosure, instantly swarmed by five chirping chicks. They look like they’re in heaven. Antaris doesn’t stay reserved for long. He cracks his first smile when he successfully picks up one, dimples on full display.
“That’s Honey Mustard,” Peter tells them.
Hiram balks while Gabriel cackles, joined by Veda. “What kind of name ...”
“Khadijah,” Peter says.
The boys pick up each chick to present to Peter for their names. When Antaris strokes Barbecue’s head with fascination, she glances around the greenery surrounding them. As it turns out, she didn’t need to do much facilitating at all.
“I’ll be right back. Going to pick a few strawberries and lettuce for the chicks.” She’s not far when footsteps follow. She stops by the tomatoes, picking the ripest one. “I don’t need any help.”
“I know,” Hiram replies, but stays anyway. “I just wanted to let you know that my father secured research and had five boxes of it delivered to my house. I haven’t had time to go through them yet, but if you want to look together, we can. I don’t know where you live, and I know you won’t come to my place. The downtown library has private study rooms we could use.”
It’s a surprisingly reasonable offer. “Okay.”
“Since you’re in a nonconfrontational and honest mood today ... Peter mentioned losing sleep because of chickens and a kitten—”
“Your son’s, yes. Peter’s waiting for you to figure it out, make peace, buy allergy elixir, and assume custody.”
Hiram cracks a smile. Veda rolls her eyes, but a matching smile sneaks onto her face.
“I think I just might do that,” he says, mostly to himself.
She can’t tell if he’s joking or—
“It’ll be worth it, seeing him this happy.”
She doesn’t know what to say, so she walks on. Hiram remains at her side, his purposeful stride slowing to match hers, hands behind his back like Antaris. They never leave the beaten path. When their eyes meet, she realizes the watcher has become the watched.
“I got him a lantern. It’s with his book bag, along with a sign language book.”
A quiet intensity lingers in his gaze. “Why?”
“Aside from the fact that it floats on its own and stores sunlight, it captures the energy from bad dreams.”
“How did you know he was having nightmares?”
“I would be surprised if he wasn’t.”
“Peter gave him an elixir to help that didn’t work.”
“Hopefully this might.” They reach the strawberry beds. Veda stoops to comb through the leaves, finding two plump fruits.
“And the book?”
Veda winces slightly. “I was planning to talk to Simran, but I think he needs some way to communicate until he’s ready to speak. We learned some basics today. Maybe—”
“I wish I’d thought of it myself.”
Veda can admit she’s usually the aggressor in their sparring matches, yet praise isn’t what she expects. It’s disarming. “It’ll be good for him. Peter is going to ask his teacher if she can fit it into the lesson plan to teach his class so the kids can communicate with him. It’s not much,but if we work on it during our sessions and you incorporate it at home, he—”
“Thank you. For what you’ve done with him. He seems comfortable with you.”
She flounders under his appreciation, looking at everything except him. “Antaris is a great kid. Kind. Compassionate. Earnest. He reads your notes, wants to know you. He’s loud, even in his silence.” Veda continues to actively ignore the look on his face, muttering, “Need to grab some lettuce.”
When raised garden beds full of herbs divide them, Veda stops focusing on her shoes and looks at Hiram. Black clashes with color and light. She would sooner lie than admit it aloud, but against the lush backdrop of the greenhouse, Hiram is hard to ignore. His height and the lean lines of his build. Tailored clothes. Dark hair, parted like his son’s. Deliberate, defiant blue eyes. The beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow replacing smooth skin. Today, Hiram bears ink stains on his fingers, a few creases in his shirt, and the faint impression of glasses on the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately, the imperfections make him human. Natural. Handsome.
“I happen to know when I’m being studied.” Hiram’s back is to her as he examines the flowering cucumber vines. “Ever since Nénuphar, you’ve taken every opportunity to assess me. Even when I irritate you.” He turns to face her. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”
