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.”Angie fixed his food and he sat down to eat while she and her aunt loaded up a couple of trays and went back upstairs.After he ate, he started wondering how Glory and little Sera were doing.He went out into the front hall and stood at the base of the stairs with a hand on the newel post and thought about going up there.He wanted to go up, but he didn’t quite dare to.Instead, he went into the family room and rebuilt the fire that had burned down to coals during Sera’s birth.He’d just gotten it going good when he heard the front door open.He shut the door to the fireplace insert, hung the poker back on the stand and rose to his feet.The front door closed.Hesitant footsteps came closer.And stopped.He turned slowly to face the sturdy, handsome boy who stood in the arch to the foyer.Still in his coat and hat, his rubber boots and backpack, the boy had Glory’s brown hair and big eyes.And the telltale Bravo cleft in his square chin.He took his time, looking Bowie up and down.Bowie returned his stare.The only sound was the crackle of the newly revived fire at his back.For Bowie, in that wordless moment, the world seemed to shift on its axis.Everything came into sharper perspective.He saw what he’d already known in his mind.But now he saw it through his heart and whatever that thing was that might be called a soul.Only at that moment did he fully accept that he had a job to do here, a job he’d left undone for too long.There was no way he could leave town.Not in the near future anyway.“I know you,” the boy said at last, his mouth that was the same shape as the mouth Bowie saw when he looked in the mirror, curved in a sneer.“I’ve seen your pictures in Granny Chastity’s house.You’re the one they call my dad.But you’re not my dad.My dad died.And I hate you.”Chapter FourBowie stared at the son who’d just said he hated him and tried to think of an acceptable reply.There was none.Anything he said right then would only be so much crap.Johnny didn’t wait for him to think up something meaningful.He demanded, “Where’s my mom?”“She’s…resting.”Johnny dropped the backpack down one arm.It plunked to the hardwood floor, although he still held it by a strap.“In her room?”“That’s right.”Hefting the pack, Johnny turned for the stairs.“Wait.”The boy whirled back.“Don’t you tell me what to do.”Bowie almost smiled.It was the kind of thing he used to say a lot—and not only when he was six.He thought of his own mom, for some reason.Of Chastity’s calm, matter-of-fact approach to things.She used to be the only one with a chance of getting through to him.She never fought fire with fire.He said quietly, “Your sister was born this morning.”The boy tried to keep sneering, but his eyes went wide.“Is my mom okay?”“Your mom is fine.Resting, like I said.Your aunt Angie, your grandma Rose and your great-aunt Stella are with her.”“What’s her name, the baby?”“Serafina Teodora, but your mom calls her Sera.”“I want to go up there.I want to see my mom and the baby.”“Take off your coat and hat and boots first.And go quietly.Remember to knock.”The boy did what he was told.He unzipped his jacket and took off his hat.Bowie marveled.At six, Johnny had more self-control than Bowie had possessed at twenty-six.The boy turned and left the archway.Bowie didn’t follow.Getting too close so soon seemed like a bad idea.From where he stood at the fireplace, Bowie had a clear view into the front hall.He watched Johnny set his pack at the base of the coat tree, hang his jacket on a low hook and put his boots side-by-side next to his pack.In stocking feet, Johnny went up, not looking back.Once he disappeared from view, Bowie moved to the foot of the stairs.He heard Johnny knock on his mother’s door, a gentle, careful sort of knock.And then he heard the door open and Mamma Rose’s voice.“Here’s our big boy.…”Johnny said something.Bowie couldn’t make out the words.He heard the door click shut.There was an easy chair by the fire.Bowie returned to the family room and sank into that chair.He sat and stared at the flames and waited for his son to come back downstairs.It didn’t take all that long.Fifteen minutes, maybe, and he heard the light step descending.Bowie stayed in the chair.He had the feeling that sudden moves on his part would not be appreciated.Better to continue to keep his distance for a while.He might even get lucky and the kid would come to him.Doubtful, but you never knew.So he waited.The light footfalls came closer.“My mom says I have to be nice to you.” The boy had stopped maybe six feet from Bowie’s chair.He’d put on a pair of tennis shoes while he was upstairs.Aware of a strange tightness under his breastbone, Bowie drank in the sight of him.“Did you see your sister?”Johnny nodded.“She’s pretty ugly.All red and wrinkled.”“Most babies are like that.But personally, I think she’s gorgeous.”“You maybe need glasses, huh?” Johnny tipped his dark head to the side, frowning.“Are you a drunk and a crazy man?”Bowie wanted to laugh.He also felt the burn of a more painful emotion sting the back of his throat.“Not anymore,” he said.“But I used to be.”The boy seemed to consider that answer.And then he shrugged.“Mom says I can have milk and two graham crackers and then do my homework.”“Need any help with that?”Johnny blew out a disgusted breath.“I’m not a baby.”“Well, I’m here if you need anything.”The look the kid gave him then was more puzzled than anything else [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.”Angie fixed his food and he sat down to eat while she and her aunt loaded up a couple of trays and went back upstairs.After he ate, he started wondering how Glory and little Sera were doing.He went out into the front hall and stood at the base of the stairs with a hand on the newel post and thought about going up there.He wanted to go up, but he didn’t quite dare to.Instead, he went into the family room and rebuilt the fire that had burned down to coals during Sera’s birth.He’d just gotten it going good when he heard the front door open.He shut the door to the fireplace insert, hung the poker back on the stand and rose to his feet.The front door closed.Hesitant footsteps came closer.And stopped.He turned slowly to face the sturdy, handsome boy who stood in the arch to the foyer.Still in his coat and hat, his rubber boots and backpack, the boy had Glory’s brown hair and big eyes.And the telltale Bravo cleft in his square chin.He took his time, looking Bowie up and down.Bowie returned his stare.The only sound was the crackle of the newly revived fire at his back.For Bowie, in that wordless moment, the world seemed to shift on its axis.Everything came into sharper perspective.He saw what he’d already known in his mind.But now he saw it through his heart and whatever that thing was that might be called a soul.Only at that moment did he fully accept that he had a job to do here, a job he’d left undone for too long.There was no way he could leave town.Not in the near future anyway.“I know you,” the boy said at last, his mouth that was the same shape as the mouth Bowie saw when he looked in the mirror, curved in a sneer.“I’ve seen your pictures in Granny Chastity’s house.You’re the one they call my dad.But you’re not my dad.My dad died.And I hate you.”Chapter FourBowie stared at the son who’d just said he hated him and tried to think of an acceptable reply.There was none.Anything he said right then would only be so much crap.Johnny didn’t wait for him to think up something meaningful.He demanded, “Where’s my mom?”“She’s…resting.”Johnny dropped the backpack down one arm.It plunked to the hardwood floor, although he still held it by a strap.“In her room?”“That’s right.”Hefting the pack, Johnny turned for the stairs.“Wait.”The boy whirled back.“Don’t you tell me what to do.”Bowie almost smiled.It was the kind of thing he used to say a lot—and not only when he was six.He thought of his own mom, for some reason.Of Chastity’s calm, matter-of-fact approach to things.She used to be the only one with a chance of getting through to him.She never fought fire with fire.He said quietly, “Your sister was born this morning.”The boy tried to keep sneering, but his eyes went wide.“Is my mom okay?”“Your mom is fine.Resting, like I said.Your aunt Angie, your grandma Rose and your great-aunt Stella are with her.”“What’s her name, the baby?”“Serafina Teodora, but your mom calls her Sera.”“I want to go up there.I want to see my mom and the baby.”“Take off your coat and hat and boots first.And go quietly.Remember to knock.”The boy did what he was told.He unzipped his jacket and took off his hat.Bowie marveled.At six, Johnny had more self-control than Bowie had possessed at twenty-six.The boy turned and left the archway.Bowie didn’t follow.Getting too close so soon seemed like a bad idea.From where he stood at the fireplace, Bowie had a clear view into the front hall.He watched Johnny set his pack at the base of the coat tree, hang his jacket on a low hook and put his boots side-by-side next to his pack.In stocking feet, Johnny went up, not looking back.Once he disappeared from view, Bowie moved to the foot of the stairs.He heard Johnny knock on his mother’s door, a gentle, careful sort of knock.And then he heard the door open and Mamma Rose’s voice.“Here’s our big boy.…”Johnny said something.Bowie couldn’t make out the words.He heard the door click shut.There was an easy chair by the fire.Bowie returned to the family room and sank into that chair.He sat and stared at the flames and waited for his son to come back downstairs.It didn’t take all that long.Fifteen minutes, maybe, and he heard the light step descending.Bowie stayed in the chair.He had the feeling that sudden moves on his part would not be appreciated.Better to continue to keep his distance for a while.He might even get lucky and the kid would come to him.Doubtful, but you never knew.So he waited.The light footfalls came closer.“My mom says I have to be nice to you.” The boy had stopped maybe six feet from Bowie’s chair.He’d put on a pair of tennis shoes while he was upstairs.Aware of a strange tightness under his breastbone, Bowie drank in the sight of him.“Did you see your sister?”Johnny nodded.“She’s pretty ugly.All red and wrinkled.”“Most babies are like that.But personally, I think she’s gorgeous.”“You maybe need glasses, huh?” Johnny tipped his dark head to the side, frowning.“Are you a drunk and a crazy man?”Bowie wanted to laugh.He also felt the burn of a more painful emotion sting the back of his throat.“Not anymore,” he said.“But I used to be.”The boy seemed to consider that answer.And then he shrugged.“Mom says I can have milk and two graham crackers and then do my homework.”“Need any help with that?”Johnny blew out a disgusted breath.“I’m not a baby.”“Well, I’m here if you need anything.”The look the kid gave him then was more puzzled than anything else [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]