“Are you sure? I don’t want him to disrespect someone’s property,” Maeve said.
“No, it’s fine. I told him about me sliding down it when I was kid, and next thing I know, he’s doing exactly that. Sorry if I shouldn’t have encouraged him.”
“No, not at all. If it’s okay with you, then…” Maeve said.
“It’s fine with me. This may be the banister’s last chance to make a child squeal with happiness. It’s not looking like I’ll ever have any.”
“Don’t count yourself out. You never know what will happen.”
“You’re right. But you and Griffin are welcome here for as long as you want to be here, and he can take full advantage of the banister.”
“Thanks for letting us stay with you, and for the bathrobe and the long, hot shower. You just don’t know what it does for the soul to take a hot shower and breathe easy for a while without feeling like you have to rush.”
“Oh, yes, I do. Sometimes it’s the only thing that saves me. And for the record, I don’t have much in my closet, but you’re welcome to borrow whatever you think might fit until you get a chance to get yourself some clothes, too.”
“You’re too nice,” Maeve said.
“Nah, just glad to help.”
“Griff, let’s get you in bed, baby. It’s getting late, and way past your bedtime,” Maeve said.
“Aw, Mom! I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“Too bad. It’s time for you to go to sleep.”
Alison smiled as Maeve took her completely charming wild-child upstairs to try to convince him to go to sleep. She looked around the entrance way to her home and the stillness that permeated it in the last few moments since Griffin went upstairs. The liveliness he brought to the house very loudly accentuated the quietness she’d unintentionally learned to live with. She poured herself a glass of red dessert wine, and went into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa and reaching for the channel selector to see what movie she could find to watch. She’d just tucked her legs under herself and covered herself with ahand crocheted afghan when someone knocked on the door — rather heavily.
Alison set her glass down on the large square coffee table in front of her and got up to answer the door. She looked through the peephole, then pulled the door open. “Feral?”
“Hey. I didn’t get a chance to say goodnight before you left,” Feral said.
“I thought about it, but I didn’t want to interrupt since you were talking to your, what is it, group, or unit, or team?” she asked.
“They could fit under any of those headings. But honestly, I’d rather you have interrupted me.”
She shook her head, dismissing the possibility.
Feral stepped right up to the door, as close as he could get without actually entering her house and looked right into her eyes. “Anything you have to say will always, without question, be more important to me than anything I’m discussing with anyone else.”
She watched him silently for a few seconds.
“Why didn’t you tell me goodbye?” he asked, his voice calm and non-threatening.
“Because I thought you were just being nice with everything you said before and I didn’t want to have to hear you fumble to get out of it. It was too nice a memory to have ruined.”
“You really thought that I was just being nice?” he asked.
Alison kind of lifted one shoulder in a shrug as she avoided meeting his gaze.
“Alison, honey, how am I going to convince you that every word I said was true?”
She was looking past him to the posts on her porch, holding up the porch roof. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.
He stood patiently, quietly, waiting for her to look at him again, but when she did she surprised him.
“Do you like sweet, red dessert wine?” she asked.
Feral kind of smirked and canted his head just ever so slightly. “I do.”
