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He lets me peck him on the cheek but wipes the kiss away as soon as I back up. I scrunch my face and try to look offended.
He crosses his arms and lifts a brow. “What if the stamp club director’s a criminal, hm? What then?”
I swallow back the frustration tickling my throat. I hate it when Ryan does this. He’s too imaginative for his own good. And mine. It’s half the reason I can’t let him join the school’s hockey team. Being imaginative, he’s highly likely to get risky. I’ve seen it myself. On land.
This is a hard pass for me. He’ll thank me when he’s older and unbroken. Alive, too. As his legal caregiver, it’s my job to see this happen. No excuses, no argument. Even if it means he hates me.
I press my lips together and will myself to burst his bubble. “Ryan. This can—”
“A criminal just lying low as a stamp enthusiast!” Ryan has a flair for the dramatics.
He got it from his mother. A top-notch sister-in-law and damn near perfect mother. Wendy’s shoes are going to be hard to fill forever. But I’m definitely going to try.
Ryan points a finger at me for effect. I let him because it’s what his dad used to do whenever he caught me rifling through his CD collection. “Lying low with your precious niece, Tina!”
“No way you meant for that to come out like it did, Ry,” I say casually, then shake my head and click my tongue. It’s something I like to do when I’m trying to seem friendly but still in control.
Sometimes kids say the darndest things, and our job as the adults in the situation is to reflect about it later. In the privacy of our rooms and offices, where a chuckle or two is warranted. I press my lips together again, but this time to keep a smile from curling across my lips.
“And by the time you or anyone else figures it out, he’s gone and Tina’s already his number one fan. Hung on his every word, and wants to be just like him now. A con artist! A thief! Is that what you want?” Ryan’s voice cracks at the end of his rant, telling me there’s more emotion behind it than I thought.
“Why don’t you try out for drama club, huh?” I offer, doing my best to sound sunny and bright. “You love stories.”
It’s not a lie, though there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ve just said the wrong thing. Ryan’s favorite sport is hockey, and of the two of my adopted kiddos, he’s the one who asks for the least. It kills me to be forced to think of my nephew’s safety over his happiness.
But in this case, I have no choice. He’s not the most coordinated kid, has always bruised easily, and I can set my watch to his seasonal colds. It’s just too risky. I don’t care how much protection he wears. If a concussion is possible, I’d rather be safe than sorry.
“Wait!” I hear from the top of the stairs, and we both turn to watch Tina descend. Her hands are filled with various slips of paper, covered in colorful stamps and writing. “I made these visuals.”
She splays her work across the table and hands me a small card with hand-drawn hockey sticks and the word ‘team’ stamped in a border around the front.
“It’s no use, Tina,” Ryan laments. “She’s decided to ruin my life instead.”
“Is that a yes to drama club?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“We never get to do what I want to do!” Ryan gets up, and so do I. From the ink stains on both their hands, they spent a long time on these makeshift pamphlets.
“Hold on.” I shuffle together the squares of paper and slip them in my purse. “I’ll look these over and get back to you.”
“Yay! We’ll come to your office at lunch!” Tina loves the fact I’m the school nurse and often finds her way to my office when she wants to eat and read. “Did you hear that, Ryan? We’re that much closer to a yes!”
“I’m saying I want to see what you guys put together,” I explain.
“She’s humoring us.” Ryan gives his sister a disappointed look before running a hand through his curly mop of red hair. “That’s all. You’ll see.”
It hurts to hear this, but I only tell them to get ready for school. I can’t disagree, even though I want to. It might be a lie in the end if I do. And I don’t want to lie to them. I feel myself already wanting to suggest a different sport. Such as bowling or chess. Maybe the swim team.
If I can find a good enough teacher, of course. I’m not an idiot. I know it’s possible to drown in mere inches of water. So if Ryan takes one step in a pool, he’ll be learning from the best in town. Period.
And Hallorann, Oregon is packed with some of the best people there are. It shouldn’t be hard. Maybe that’s what I’ll do after I’m through reading the siblings’ art project-slash-well-meaning attempt to sway me.
Stamp club really is paying off,I think as I slip them into my purse. Tina’s form is getting better. Her presses are perfect in some cases. I’m glad some of the teachers got together and made the after-school club. I don’t care what Ryan says.No one’s hiding in plain sight at stamp club.
A chill runs through me at the last thought. Technically, somebodyishiding in plain sight. Just not for Tina. For me. Even now, I wonder if my secret admirer will leave me another note on my car today.
It typically happens on Tuesdays, which started out innocently enough. Who wouldn’t want a flattering note left under their windshield wiper on their birthday? It’s thoughtful and hurts no one. But then came another one, followed by a third and fourth.
First at school, then the grocery store, the hair salon, and even the movie theater during a terrible second date that never saw a third. I’ve read enough mysteries and heard enough true crime to wonder where this is going.
