Page 37 of Up In Flames

“Are you sure we should be bothering him? We could probably find a hamburger place if we go into Sunderland and pick up something from a drive-though,” I say, ill at ease about making the owner “throw something together.”

“You’ll prefer what Robert creates, believe me.” Sampson draws a chair down from one of the tables and indicates I should sit.

I do, but he stands next to me like my own personal gigantic guard, his head brushing the ceiling, which, happily, is high enough so that he doesn’t have to scrunch down. His arms are crossed above his chest. The poor mopping son looks at him with wide eyes before scurrying off in the direction of what must be the restrooms and the back door.

“You scared him.”

Sampson huffs. “Caught him the other day smoking pot in the woods. We’ve had a lot of forest fires lately. I wasn’t pleased, to say the least. He’s afraid I’m going to tell his father.”

“Are you?”

“I’m still thinking about it. I’m keeping a watchful eye on the kid. If he screws up again, I won’t have a choice, but I’m hoping he’ll take my warning to heart.”

“You’re going to be a great dad one day.”

And there I go, saying the quiet part out loud. First, I sob all over him because finding a man who thinks everyone wants to create beauty in the world is so huge, I couldn’t keep my emotions inside me where they belong. And now I’m practically asking him to father my children.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, to move from enemy to obsession in one giant leap. It’s not like me at all, and yet, here I am.

But he seems to take my comment in stride. “I had a great father. I learned from the best.”

“Your adopted father. Have you ever met either of your biological parents?”

His excoriating gaze drops to me, and for the first time since he rescued me from the tree, I see anger in his eyes. “No.” He looks away again.

Oh. That was short. I should shut up. He clearly doesn’t want to discuss the subject.

“Did you ever try to find out?”

His stare jettisons back from sweeping the room, and I’m not mistaken about the anger. His jaw could crack walnuts, it’s so tight. “No. They abandoned me. I’m sure they had their reasons, and I don’t blame them. I just don’t think about them.”

But there’s an edge to the way he says the last words, as if he wants them to be true, but maybe they’re not.

“I thought we were going to be honest with each other?” I keep my voice soft, so I won’t offend him.

He paces away two steps and returns, before stalking in the other direction. He’s like a German Shepherd, on the alert for danger and keeping close, even though he wants to run.

“The truth is that I don’t think about them very often because doing so seems disloyal to my parents, but last night, I had a really weird encounter in the hospital, which I guess has swerved my thoughts towards them, and because I’m thinking of them, I feel terrible inside. I don’t mean to snap at you.”

“That’s okay. Was this conversation with the guy that the nurse said was your relative?”

“You remember that?”

I nod.

“I think he might be related, though he wouldn’t give me a concrete answer. He said his name is Xy, with an X, I think, though I suppose it could be a Z. Xyonis Tull. Weird name.”

“Why do you think he could be related?”

“Because his shadow was tall. Broad. And he grouped me in with him, with ‘them,’ though… well, it was weird.”

He studies the far end of the room, and I don’t know if it’s because he wants to hide what he learned, or if he’s just perturbed by it all.

But I’m a writer. I’m curious by nature, and until he tells me point blank to keep my questions to myself, I’m going to keep asking them. “What did he say other than his name that leads you to believe he was grouping you with him?”

Sampson shrugs, but the motion is sharp, and he still isn’t looking at me. “He said a lot of things I didn’t understand.” A grating laugh leaves his throat. “Ridiculous and crazy things.” When he glances down at me, it feels like more of a win than it probably should. “Strangely, he seemed to think that I was in Mossburg undercover.”

“Undercover? Like with the CIA?”