“And sticky buns are much better than the bread I had. Maybe you should try one. My mouth is watering just looking at them.”
Walter’s ashen face bunched up into a pout, but he turned toward the buns and seemed to inhale the scent. With one hand, he reached for one and took a bite.
“There’s a good lad.” Alex smiled. “May I try one too?”
At this, Walter nodded. Alex nodded his thanks and began to munch alongside the boy.
He was studying the south forest out the window when he heard Walter finally draw breath. “George said you would come, but I wasn’t sure I could trust him.” The little boy toed the lush rug under the table, and it seemed the sticky bun had worked a wonder. The boy stacked one more block and then methodically crashed them all down with a swipe of his hand.
The note from George had mentioned his little brother wasn’t speaking to anyone, except to ask for the man who’d saved him. Alex wanted to ask Walter why he didn’t trust his brother and whether he trusted others, but perhaps it was best to meet him where he was now.
“Older siblings can be trying.” Alex smiled.
Walter turned, and his eyes went wide. “Do you have any brothers?”
The question, especially inside this room, stung. When Alex had been Walter’s age, Christopher had been like a brother to him.
“Well, no, actually, but I understand how you feel.”
The little boy crossed his arms and raised one brow. “Prove it.” Apparently, this direct manner of speaking was an inherited trait, for it reminded Alex of both Charlotte and Christopher.
“I told you to eat that sticky bun, and it helped, didn’t it?”
Walter cast a begrudging glance across the room and then nodded. “I suppose.”
“I also know that sometimes people close to us do things we don’t understand or things that don’t seem fair or that seem just plain wrong.”
Walter nodded. “Like when your father left?”
The boy may have looked like he wasn’t listening earlier, but his astute comment proved otherwise. “Yes. And I’ve had close friends turn away from me, and that hurts.” Alex guessed Walter was young enough that he didn’t understand much of the dynamics between his family and Alex.
The boy reached for another bun and pursed his lips before speaking. “Why were you the one to save me? Why not Charlotte?” Walter’s voice was angry, and Alex began to understand his hurt.
“I was the closest. I saw your sister racing toward you, but with my horse and my position, I simply beat her to it.”
Walter contemplated those words, his brow furrowed low, his arms folded tight. “She promised me a special afternoon, and then my brothers started fishing and she went off to talk with her friend and I was alone again, like I always am.” He stuffed half the bun into his mouth. “I was scared after the lake and didn’t want to talk or eat for a few days. And now when I stay silent, they finally pay more attention to me.”
Ah. So the boy just wanted to be noticed.
Walter’s eyes narrowed, as though his mind caught hold of something else. “I suppose you were closer than my brothers too?”
“Yes, though they were also running as fast as they could.”
The little boy’s lips bunched to one side of his face, and his chin lifted. “Well, I thank you for being the quickest, then.”
“Of course. But know that they were trying to do the same. I think they are worried about you.” He remembered how frightened and vulnerable Charlotte’s beautiful eyes had been. He wanted to do anything to ease her concerns. He sighed. “Maybe you should talk to them.”
Walter tapped his toe. “If I talk, they’ll go back to normal and ignore me.”
“I see,” Alex said. He knew all too well what it was like to feel so inconsequential that no one noticed one’s presence.
Walter’s eyes were wide and his words came out in a rush. “Maybe you could talk to them for me!”
“I think I could mention your concerns.”
“Thank you.” Walter nodded, and to Alex’s amazement, the lad reached for his third sticky bun.
“Boys do sometimes get sick from too many sweets, you know.”
