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“I know. When we were little, my brother and I used to fish in that pond all the time.”
“You have a brother? I want one but Mommy says I can’t have one.”
“That’s right. You told me Archer has a sister.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course. I remember everything you tell me, buddy. It’s important to you.” I cut my wheels toward Mom’s graveled road that leads to her house and wait for Lennon to fill the silence. He doesn’t say anything else, though, and I glance over at him. He’s staring at me, and there’s obviously something on his mind. Something flutters through me that I can’t name because I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it before. Concern? Fear? Nervousness? Maybe all of that, but I’m so out of my depth in dealing with a child thatshares my blood and yet is a stranger to me that I have no idea what in the hell I’m doing. “You okay, buddy?”
“I thought you didn’t like me,” he murmurs. I hit the brakes and stop the truck. I throw it in park and turn to look at him. We’re only a few hundred feet from Mom’s driveway, but this is more important.
“Lennon—”
“Mom said you won the rodeo championship. I thought that was so cool.”
“Buddy—”
“But when you would come in and I’d ask you questions, you barely talked to me, and you were kind of…”
“Kind of?” I prompt, but I know what he’s going to say even before he says it.
“Grouchy.”
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath and then wince, hoping Lennon didn’t pick up on what I said. The last thing I need is for Katie to bust my balls because I’ve taught Lennon to say words he shouldn’t. “Lennon, sometimes adults are upset over things, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you. They’re mad about other stuff, and it just makes them grouchy.”
“That’s what Mommy said.”
“It is?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah, she said you were mad at her, and it didn’t have anything to do with me. So, I shouldn’t be upset or hurt because that wouldn’t be what you wanted.”
Well, hell.
“Your mommy is right. It really didn’t, Lennon.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at my mommy. She’s sad a lot. She needs people to be nice to her.”
“You think your mommy’s sad?”
“She cries at night when she thinks no one can hear her. Grandma says sometimes people carry heavy loads, and they need to cry to be able to keep doing it.”
“Why do you think your mommy cries?” I ask, almost dreading Lennon’s answer.
“I worry sometimes it’s because of me.”
“Well, I know for sure it’s not because of you, Lennon.”
“You do?”
“Yep. Your mommy loves you more than anything. She always smiles when you’re around.”
“Oh,” he says and seems to think about it. “I guess she does.”
“Maybe she’s just sad because my brother went away for a while.”
“She did get sad, but she cried before that.”
“She did?”
