I parked and got out, hit once again that night with New Hampshire’s freezing temperatures after sundown. I immediately began coughing and hurried to the gift shop. The front windows were nearly dark, but there was a faint illumination from the back when I peeked in one. An office light, maybe? I raised my hand to knock but paused as another asthma-induced cough racked me.
“Damn it,” I wheezed to myself.
“Mr. Merlin?”
Whoa, whoa. I was hoping for another “Bo.” What was with the sudden formality—wait. That was a much lighter, blue voice.
I spun on one foot and leaned back against the front door. “Alan?”
My sophomore clarinetist stood at the base of the steps, looking up at me, just visible in the glow of the porch light.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“Me? What’reyoudoing here?”
He started to speak, but the front door opened behind me and I fell backward, right into a pair of strong arms.
I yelped, coughed again, and scrambled free.
“Bowen?”
I turned to a very surprised Felix. “H-hi,” I stammered.
“Ready to go home, Dad?”
I nearly gave myself whiplash when I looked at Alan again. “Dad?” I echoed—yelled, really.
The poor kid was staring at me as if I were totally nuts, and hell, maybe I was.
Felix cleared his throat. “Here,” he said, holding out a ring of keys. “Go wait in the car.”
Alan cautiously walked up the steps and took the handout. “Am I in trouble or something, Mr. Merlin?”
“What? No.No. Nothing like that,” I quickly answered, grasping at straws.
Alan gave Fe—well, his dad—one last look before he left the front door, snow crunching under his steps as he walked to the car.
“Come inside,” Felix said. He stepped aside, holding the door open for me.
I followed him into the shop. “So,” I began as he shut the door. “I’ve got like… twenty or thirty questions.” But when Felix turned to me, I forgot every single one of them.
It was the first time I’d seen him in something other than winter clothing, and that’s when I noticed the massive scarring.
All along the right side of his body, from beneath his ear, down his neck and under the collar of his T-shirt, to his entire right arm and hand. His skin had a strange, almost leathery appearance. Like—burns.
Felix rubbed uneasily at his arm. “I guess it’s better I be forward now,” he said, tilting his head at the door. “Alan.”
“He’s your son.”
Felix nodded.
I looked down at my salt-crusted oxfords. “He’s my student.”
“Yeah. He told me today.” Felix cleared his throat again. “I don’t go on dates. Usually. Life is complicated enough being a single parent. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about yesterday. I’ll understand if you’d rather not, though, since you’re his instructor.”
“No, hold on.” I raised my gaze. “I really want to take you out.”
Felix stared at me. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
