Ethan’s work on the main deck was a growing astonishment. Jenna viewed him with the same respect she might show a master jeweler. Every piece was meticulously measured and cut and fit into place. The result was a seamless flow. Ethan never hurried. In fact, his motions seemed painstakingly slow. But by the close of each day, another sizable portion was completed. Gradually the parlor and kitchen and master bedroom and bath all grew new floors and walls.
That morning Jenna was on her break, seated at the trestle table partly shaded by the barn’s rear overhang. Liam was seated across from her, drawing her again. He had been doing this every few days, changing her position, moving her in and out of shade, using as few words as possible to get her exactly where he wanted. She actually enjoyed the sessions. She suspected more was happening than just one undersized preteen using her as a model. This was Liam’s way of being close to her. She liked him. Keeping still for a while was fine.
Noah walked over, inspected them a long moment, then said, “Wallace Myers called. The kitchen appliances have arrived. And fixtures for the master bath.”
“Finally.”
Liam hissed softly. His way of telling her not to move.
Noah said, “I’ve got the electrician coming in this afternoon. We need to calibrate the flying deck instrumentation. Will you go?”
“Of course.” She ignored Liam’s hiss. “Soon as we’re done here.”
Noah stood there a moment longer.
“Was there something else?”
The air seemed to go out of him. Like he was defeated. Unable to say what had burdened him.
“Noah, what’s the matter?” More silence. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
He turned and started away. “Take the truck.”
Jenna sat there, enveloped by the day’s dry heat, worrying over what Noah had not been saying for the past ten days. Distant and stressed and, well, grim was the word that came to mind.
Then Liam broke into her thoughts by saying, “I get so afraid sometimes.”
She turned her head slightly. Far enough to see how he addressed the paper and the pencil in his hand. Jenna had the impression he was in a similar situation to Noah. Letting out a fraction of what he’d been keeping bottled up inside. Since forever.
She liked having a reason to focus on something other than what Noah was refusing to let out, and said, “What about?”
“Mom.” The pencil stayed busy. Pushing against the page, harder now. “Especially at night.”
“Tell me why, Liam.”
She could hear the pencil scratching, see the darker edge being pressed into the page. “That she’ll go out one night and not come back.”
Which at least partly explained his recent fascination with ghouls. She chose her words carefully. “Are you asking me what you should do?”
He bent closer to the page. Nodded.
“There’s only one answer I can think of. Make friends.” She watched his drawing hand slow, the motions careful, his nose almost touching the page now. “People you trust. People who might help you through these worrying times.”
“Ethan says I have to talk.”
She pointed out, “We’re talking now. So I know you can when you want.”
“It’s hard.”
“Especially with people you don’t know, right?”
The hand stilled. “Especially with girls.”
Jenna leaned closer. “Is there a girl you like?”
He breathed a name. Soft as the wind rustling the dry field. “Kimberly.”
“You’re worried about saying the wrong thing?”
