“Barely. Sari is unresponsive to anything but Uri, who’s always plotting something, and Raph barely talks because of Michael’s…absence. Bez rarely gives Gabe time to come out, and Rami’s senses are still numb.”
“Compared to a year ago, their improvements are incredible,” I argue, smacking the desk with my open palm.
She takes a long breath. Her tone softens. “Meg, the road ahead of us is still long and filled with obstacles. I love those kids,” she states vehemently. I know she does. I see it every day. It’s in herinfinite patience, her persistence, and her desire to give them all they need.
“They are ours,” she continues. “And I’ll fight with and for them always. But can’t you see that we already have our hands full?”
“I know, but…Uriel. It’s for him, Linda.”
“He never asked about his brother.” She frowns at me. “All he does is hover over Sari and scheme.”
“You are wrong. He asks about his twin every day,” I counter.
“When?” She still looks confused.
“When he knocks on that door.” I point at the heavy wooden door of my office. Like clockwork, he comes every evening.
She huffs and then mutters toward the fireplace something that sounds like, “Mind reading? It’s a psychological parlor trick.”
“Will you keep looking for Eight?” My voice has a pleading tone to it. I already let one of the kids go. Subject One, Michael—he was adopted by the sheriff who found him. It seemed the best thing to do for him at the time, but I keep going back to that decision, taking him away from Raphael. I regret it sometimes.
She sighs, pulling me into the present again. “Of course I will. But when I find Eight, we need to decide if he’s fit to stay with the others. I won’t jeopardize the future of our kids for anything or anyone.”
Linda can turn into such a protective mama bear, and that’s proof enough of how much she loves our unconventional family.
I leave my chair to go hold her hand in both of mine.
“We will decide what’s best together. But please find him.” I regret my words as soon as they come out. “It’s not right to put such pressure on you, I know. You are doing your best.”
Her hand cups my cheek as she lifts my head up. “I am the best. But the people who took him are professionals. They know how to disappear without leaving any trace.”
I lean my cheek against her palm, and she slides my glasses to the top of my head. It’s such a familiar gesture, it makes me smile.
“But you are better than them,” I push out a little flattery.
She snorts. “You know it.” Her face moves down toward mine while I feel her fingers threading through the hair on my nape. “Some pampering could help me improve, though.”
Her lips brush over mine when two firm knocks resound in the office, halting our movements.
“Right on time,” I breathe on her mouth.
“Who needs contraception when you have six kids?” I hear Linda muttering as I make my way to the door.Very funny.
When I open it, Uriel is on the other side. He’s growing so fast, reaching my chin now. His wavy hair is shoulder-length, and his ever-scrutinizing hazel eyes are on me for a moment, then land on Linda.
“I interrupted,” he states a few seconds later, not sounding apologetic in the least. Sociopaths never are.
“Not really,” I respond, moving to the side to let him in, but as always, he doesn’t.
Instead, remaining on the threshold, he says, “Your cheeks are flushed, pupils dilated, suggesting an elevated blood pressure. Linda looks annoyed, her right eyebrow pointing up. Your glasses are on top of your head. Linda must have done it. You only remove them when you go out or kiss her. I stand corrected. I did interrupt something.”
“That’s my boy! My teachings are fruitful.” Linda sounds proud.
“Did you think they wouldn’t?” I tease her.
“Never.”
His deep gaze moves back to me. I can see the question in his eyes. I slowly shake my head. I see no sign of emotion, except for the trembling of his eyelashes—being a psychiatrist, I know very well how to read someone even without Linda’s teachings.
