that I’d emptied it, and we talked of trivial things until we were back to feeling okay with each other.
I called Remy back when we were on the interstate. “Remy, this weekend won’t work for me. Sorry!” I explained that I had to work.
“Don’t worry about it,” Remy said. He sounded calm about my refusal. “It was just a thought. Listen, here’s the thing. I hate to ask for another favor. But Hunter has to visit the kindergarten next week, just a thing the school does every year so the kids will have a mental picture of the place they’re going in the fall. They tour the classrooms, meet the teachers, and see the lunchroom and the bathrooms. Hunter asked me if you could go with us.”
My mouth fell open. I was glad Remy couldn’t see me. “This is during the day, I’m assuming,” I said. “What day of the week?”
“Next Tuesday, two o’clock.”
Unless I was on for the lunch shift, I could do it. “Again, let me check my work schedule, but I think that’s going to be doable,” I said. “I’ll call you back tonight.” I snapped my phone shut and told Sam about Remy’s second request.
“Seems like he waited to ask you the more important thing second, so you’d be more likely to come,” Sam asked.
I laughed. “I didn’t think of that until you said it. My brain is wired in a straighter line than that. But now that it’s crossed my mind, that seems . . . not unlikely.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I object, exactly. I want Hunter to be happy. And I’ve spent time with him, though not as much as I should have.” Hunter and I were alike in a hidden way; we were both telepathic. But that was our secret because I feared Hunter might be in danger if his ability was known. It sure hadn’t improved my life any.
“So why are you worried? Because I can tell you are,” Sam said.
“Just . . . it’ll look funny. People in Red Ditch will think Remy and I are dating. That I’m sort of—close to being Hunter’s mom. And Remy just told me he’s seeing a woman named Erin, and she may not like it. . . .” My voice trailed off. This visit seemed like a mildly bad idea. But if it would make Hunter happy, I supposed I ought to do it.
“You have that sucked-in feeling?” Sam’s smile was wry. It was our day to talk about awkward things.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I do. When I got involved in Hunter’s life, I didn’t ever imagine he’d really depend on me for anything. I guess I’ve never been around kids that much. Remy’s got a great-aunt and great-uncle in Red Ditch. That’s why he moved there after Katrina. They had an empty rental house. But the aunt and uncle are too old to want to keep a kid Hunter’s age for more than an hour or two, and the one cousin is too busy to be much help.”
“Hunter a good kid?”
“Yes, I think he is.” I smiled. “You know what’s weird? When Hunter stayed with me, he and Claude got along great. That was a big surprise.”
Sam glanced over at me. “But you wouldn’t want to leave him with Claude for hours, would you?”
After a moment’s thought, I said, “No.”
Sam nodded, as if I’d confirmed something he’d been wondering about. “Cause after all, Claude’s a fairy?” He put enough question into his voice to ensure that I knew he was genuinely asking me.
The words sounded very unpleasant said out loud. But they were the truth. “Yes, because Claude’s a fairy. But not because he’s a different race from us.” I struggled with how to express what I wanted to say. “Fairies, they love kids. But they don’t have the same frame of reference as most humans. Fairies’ll do what they think will make the child happy, or will benefit the child, rather than what a Christian adult would do.” It made me feel small and provincial to admit all this, but those were my true feelings. I felt like adding a series of disclaimers— Not that I think I’m such a great Christian, far from it. Not that non-Christians are bad people.
I called Remy back when we were on the interstate. “Remy, this weekend won’t work for me. Sorry!” I explained that I had to work.
“Don’t worry about it,” Remy said. He sounded calm about my refusal. “It was just a thought. Listen, here’s the thing. I hate to ask for another favor. But Hunter has to visit the kindergarten next week, just a thing the school does every year so the kids will have a mental picture of the place they’re going in the fall. They tour the classrooms, meet the teachers, and see the lunchroom and the bathrooms. Hunter asked me if you could go with us.”
My mouth fell open. I was glad Remy couldn’t see me. “This is during the day, I’m assuming,” I said. “What day of the week?”
“Next Tuesday, two o’clock.”
Unless I was on for the lunch shift, I could do it. “Again, let me check my work schedule, but I think that’s going to be doable,” I said. “I’ll call you back tonight.” I snapped my phone shut and told Sam about Remy’s second request.
“Seems like he waited to ask you the more important thing second, so you’d be more likely to come,” Sam asked.
I laughed. “I didn’t think of that until you said it. My brain is wired in a straighter line than that. But now that it’s crossed my mind, that seems . . . not unlikely.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I object, exactly. I want Hunter to be happy. And I’ve spent time with him, though not as much as I should have.” Hunter and I were alike in a hidden way; we were both telepathic. But that was our secret because I feared Hunter might be in danger if his ability was known. It sure hadn’t improved my life any.
“So why are you worried? Because I can tell you are,” Sam said.
“Just . . . it’ll look funny. People in Red Ditch will think Remy and I are dating. That I’m sort of—close to being Hunter’s mom. And Remy just told me he’s seeing a woman named Erin, and she may not like it. . . .” My voice trailed off. This visit seemed like a mildly bad idea. But if it would make Hunter happy, I supposed I ought to do it.
“You have that sucked-in feeling?” Sam’s smile was wry. It was our day to talk about awkward things.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I do. When I got involved in Hunter’s life, I didn’t ever imagine he’d really depend on me for anything. I guess I’ve never been around kids that much. Remy’s got a great-aunt and great-uncle in Red Ditch. That’s why he moved there after Katrina. They had an empty rental house. But the aunt and uncle are too old to want to keep a kid Hunter’s age for more than an hour or two, and the one cousin is too busy to be much help.”
“Hunter a good kid?”
“Yes, I think he is.” I smiled. “You know what’s weird? When Hunter stayed with me, he and Claude got along great. That was a big surprise.”
Sam glanced over at me. “But you wouldn’t want to leave him with Claude for hours, would you?”
After a moment’s thought, I said, “No.”
Sam nodded, as if I’d confirmed something he’d been wondering about. “Cause after all, Claude’s a fairy?” He put enough question into his voice to ensure that I knew he was genuinely asking me.
The words sounded very unpleasant said out loud. But they were the truth. “Yes, because Claude’s a fairy. But not because he’s a different race from us.” I struggled with how to express what I wanted to say. “Fairies, they love kids. But they don’t have the same frame of reference as most humans. Fairies’ll do what they think will make the child happy, or will benefit the child, rather than what a Christian adult would do.” It made me feel small and provincial to admit all this, but those were my true feelings. I felt like adding a series of disclaimers— Not that I think I’m such a great Christian, far from it. Not that non-Christians are bad people.
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