Page 29 of A Hero Comes Home

“Bats are good. They eat bugs. Miss Lindy said so, in science class.”

“Can I be excuthed, Mom. I hafta pee.”

“Mr. Baxter says you’re a hero. Are you a hero, Daddy?”

“What’s a hero?”

“Can I go to a birthday sleepover at Danny Stewart’s tomorrow night? He’s gonna have tents in the backyard and a wienie roast and ghost stories and everything.”

“I doan like ghosts.”

“You’re a scaredy-cat.”

“Am not!”

On and on the conversation went, most of which required no responses from the adults, except for an occasional reprimand from Sally. Eventually, while Sally cleared the table, Jake went in with his father to watch the kids go to town with the games. The squealing and laughter and arguments reached a fever pitch and might become annoying later, but for now they were a joy to his ears.

“Well, I’m going to head home,” his father announced suddenly. “I’ll see you later at the barbecue.”

“The barbecue?”

“Didn’t Sally tell you—”

“No, I haven’t had a chance yet,” Sally said, coming into the living room.

His father was obviously relieved to leave the explanation to Sally.

“It’s just a little get-together for the folks on this street, to thank them for being so accepting of the inconvenience . . . you know, of Forge Street being blocked off.”

“And as thanks I’m being offered as an exhibit?”

“Jacob, don’t be an . . .” She glanced over to see if the boys were listening. They weren’t. “. . . an ass. Whether it’s tonight, or tomorrow, or next week, you’re going to have to face people sometime.”

“I can cancel for tonight if you want, son,” his father offered. “I was just going to grill burgers and hot dogs. Everyone else was going to bring a dish. We can postpone.”

“The barbecue is at your place?” At his father’s red face, Jake said, “No, tonight is fine. Sally’s right about my having to face people. I was just surprised.”

His father left then, and Sally scooted into the kitchen before he could give her hell. He sat down on the low sofa and watched the boys play. It was sometime later that he woke up with no memory of having stretched out or fallen asleep. It was the silence that awakened him.

Opening his eyes slowly, he saw that the boys were gone, and Sally was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa watching the Food Network with the volume muted, some kind of kid baking championship. A tablet and pen sitting on her lap indicated she’d been taking notes.

“Where is everyone?” he murmured.

“The boys are over at your dad’s, helping him prepare for the party,” she said, turning to look at him, after setting the tablet and pen on the floor.

“A party is it now?” he teased.

“Don’t be an . . .”

“. . . ass,” he finished for her.

When she realized he was teasing, she made a tsk-ing sound and went to swat at him.

“C’mere, babe,” he said, grabbing her hand and rolling onto his side, making room for her to lie down beside him. He knew she would fit. This battered old sofa had been one of their first purchases when they’d gotten married. If sofas could talk!

She stiffened for only a second, then settled on her side facing him.

“Shouldn’t you be at work today, at your bakery?” he asked as he rubbed a palm over her hair, wondering if it was still as soft now as it had been when it was long. It was.