“Not yet.” Cayn grinned. “I am going to tell her tonight after I get home.” He held out his hand again to the man, placing it on the sheriff’s arm. “Thank you very much for putting in a good word to Mr. Christianson for me. With my job at the feed store, and Juda’s at the grocers, we are able to live comfortably. Not extravagantly, but who needs extravagances when a warm home, a warm bowl of soup, a warm bed, and a loving family is enough?”
“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Conroy told him. “After the shitstorm you two suffered, I was more than happy to do my part.” He snorted. “Wow. A warm home, a warm bowl of soup, a warm bed, and a loving family. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a no truer definition of a happy life. Speaking of a happy life, have you and Juda ever thought about maybe…” He made a slight gesture. “Going back in time if things get too bad? Now that you know you can transport the three of you with your ability?"
Cayn shook his head. “Unless another Nomad catches up with us, and has a murderous intent on destroying me, her, or our son, we have no desire to keep jumping through time."
"Speaking of your son. Bokken, right?”
“Yes. We named him after my father.”
“How’s he doing? Bet he’s growing like a weed.”
Cayn chuckled. “That he is. He is starting to teeth, which oft times makes for some long nights and tiring days.”
“Are you going to let him know what he is? What he can do?” Conroy leaned closer and lowered his voice. “How will you discover what he is capable of doing?”
“That will not occur until he reaches manhood,” Cayn reminded the man. “We have many years before that happens. Until then, we will tell him of his heritage. We will tell him the stories of how he came to be. Whether or not he chooses to use his ability when he discovers it will be his decision. Hopefully by then we will have distilled in him the wisdom to make the right and moral choices, and to accept the consequences of his actions.”
Cayn checked his wristwatch. “I would love to continue chatting with you, preferably over a cup of coffee, but I need to deliver this order to Mrs. Holcomb and get back to the store. Perhaps at another time?”
Conroy slapped his shoulder. “It’s a deal. Until then, have a good rest of the day, and tell Juda my wife used to give our kids chamomile tea to help them get through the night.”
“Chamomile tea?”
“Yes. Hey, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Smiling, Cayn’s gaze softened, as if reliving a memory. “At least we tried,” he murmured. Suddenly straightening, he nodded to the sheriff. “I will be sure to pass that suggestion along.”
Conroy stepped aside and watched the man stride to the back of the truck. Lowering the tailgate, Cayn hoisted a sack of feed corn onto his shoulder and carried it inside the drugstore.
It had been a miracle that the two Nomads had returned. Then again, Conroy viewed the couple’s lives as nothing more than one miracle after another.
A miracle they had met and fallen in love.
A miracle that they had the ability to defend themselves.
A miracle they’d managed to escape Goen’s deranged search for them.
“And a miracle they were able to come back here so they could have a life together,” he finished as he turned to head back to the office.
“Did you say something, Sheriff?” Deputy Parkes came up from behind him.
“Oh. Me?” He shook his head. “Naw. It wasn’t important. What did you find out from old man Libby?”
The deputy laughed. “One humdinger of a story.”
“Well, file a report. I can’t wait to read it.”
Pausing in the doorway, he stopped to watch as the Nomad emerged from the drugstore and climbed back inside the truck cab. The motor growled to life, and Cayn carefully backed off the curb to return to the feed store—with the vehicle lurching and rumbling along the way.
Smiling, Sheriff Conroy went inside the building and closed the door behind him.
