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While we all worked to roll the snow into three compact balls, Jerry opted out, content to walk around and keep his eyes open for any signs of intruders. Armed with a few hours of rest, his Wilson Combat 1911, and a thermos full of hot chocolate, he was good to go. I doubt he needed his weapon; the scowl on his face would scare away the deadliest of assassins.
“I didn’t think snow would be so heavy when it’s rolled into a ball,” Alex says, bent over with his arms resting on his knees. We just finished placing the head on top of the body, and its weight was substantial for an eight-year-old.
“He looks a little plain. We need to find some sticks for arms and some rocks for eyes,” Jessie suggests. “Want to help?”
“I have some carrots in the fridge. We can use one for the nose. I’ll grab that while you gather some branches,” my mom tells them. It doesn’t take long for us to find what we’re looking for, and soon, the snowman has arms and a face.
Alex stands there, staring at his masterpiece, with a look of dismay.
“What’s wrong, Buddy?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. He still doesn’t look…finished. Something’s missing, and I can’t figure out what it is.”
“He’s got eyes, a nose, arms, and even your grandpa’s old top hat. Do you think he needs a pipe?” I ask. I hope he says, ‘No,’ because no one in our family has ever smoked.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s it. I can’t quite place my finger on it.”
Jerry sets down his cocoa and ambles over, taking off his scarf and wrapping it around the snowman. He doesn’t say anything. He simply waits for Alex to confirm or deny that the problem has been resolved.
Alex tilts his head left, then right, before an ear-to-ear grin stretches across his face. “That’s it!” He wraps his arms around Jerry, repeating, “Thank you!” several times.
“No problem, Kiddo.” Jerry looks mildly uncomfortable with the display of affection, but I’m grateful to him for not pushing Alex away.
With our task complete, Alex asks, “Now, can we shoot some guns?”
After all the excitement this morning, I don’t think it’s wise to be out in the open unless we all go. I don’t believe it’s wise for us to be out here, either, but Ariella said she’s only willing to take the “hiding” thing so far, and staying cooped up in a house and living in fear isn’t going to happen.
When I tried to convince her that Alex’s safety was paramount, she said, “I trust you all to keep us safe so he can enjoy his childhood. If you honestly don’t think it’s possible, I’ll concede. But if there is even the slightest chance you can make it happen, then please let him enjoy the snow. I promise that we’ll stay close to the house.”
I conferred with my team and my parents, and they all agreed that we could manage it with Savannah as our eyes and Jerry as our ears.
I turn to Alex, “Not today, Buddy. It will get dark soon, and we’re all a little tired.” Although he is disappointed, unlike most children his age, he holds it in. “Give us a few days to tighten things up around here, and I promise I’ll teach you personally. Scout’s honor!” I pinch my pinky finger to my thumb, holding up three fingers. That seems to do the trick because his smile returns in full force.
“Were you a Boy Scout?” he asks excitedly.
“I was. I was an Eagle Scout, the highest rank you can get.”
“Can I be a Boy Scout?”
“I don’t see why not. They teach you all kinds of wonderful skills. I can teach you some of them if you want,” I tell him.
“Yippee!” he shouts, running up to his grandparents to tell them the good news. It’s not until I see Ariella’s frown that I realize I may have overstepped.
“Cothena doesn’t have Boy Scouts, so you just made a promise to him that you may not be able to keep,” she says sadly.
With those words, it’s clear that we have a lot more to discuss than just mending our relationship.
Chapter twelve
Ariella
The next few days go by quickly as Patrick’s team tightens up the security around the ranch. I still haven’t figured out how the two men found us so quickly, but with nothing happening since then, I wondered if they weren’t just two random strangers out for a ride. When I suggested that, Jerry grunted out, “That would be nice, but it’s doubtful.”
Unwilling to accept my opinion, everyone worked tirelessly to set up backstops so that we could learn to shoot in the backyard. Having the means to seek shelter quickly in the event of an attack was of the utmost importance to Patrick. He also installed blinds in the attached pool house so everyone can swim in relative safety. “You can’t shoot what you can’t see,” he told me. For that reason, all the curtains have been drawn closed throughout the house, and the light bulbs have been replaced with ones that have a “daylight” glow.
I pulled Patrick aside and scolded him for making the house a prison. “How long do you expect us to live like this? We can’t stay cooped up forever! That’s no life for a child!”
“As long as we have to until I know you both are safe. Don’t forget, Ari, that Alex is as much mine as he is yours. Whether you like it or not, I get a say in what happens. I’m doing my best to respect your wishes. I’m trying to provide him with plenty of things to keep him busy until we can get him some playtime outside. Please allow me to make it safe enough for him to do so.”
