Owen's Best Intentions

You aren’t fit.

He would change.

“Have fun.” Lilah leaned down and hugged Ben so long the boy began to struggle. “Mo-om.”

She straightened, but Ben had picked up on her reluctance, clearly unsure what was supposed to happen next or if he wanted to be part of it.

“We’ll have a great time.” Owen took Ben’s hand and led him to the rental car. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

“Mommy made me toast and milk, but she said you wanted to have breakfast with me.”

“Great. Do you have a favorite place?”

“The eggs-and-potato place.”

Their first roadblock. Owen turned back, calling her name. “Lilah?”

She was standing where they’d left her, staring as if she were afraid this was her last glimpse of their son.

“What’s the egg-and-potato place?” he asked.

“The Scholar’s Lady. Your nav system will take you there, but I can text you the address if you like.”

“No, thanks. We’ll be fine.”

Owen helped Ben into the booster seat. It looked a little tight to him.

“How does that feel, Ben?”

The boy was already inspecting every inch of the car within his reach. The cup holders fascinated him.

“Feels exactly like my other one. I can’t move much.”

“Perfect. Careful of that cup holder. I think it might break if you tug it hard enough.”

“I need a cup,” Ben said.

“If you like it that much, I’ll have to get one like it for my car at home.”

Ben sat back. “Where do you live, Own?”

The name made him smile.

“Tennessee. I live next to a big barn. On a farm with a stream and cows and goats and chickens.”

Ben rubbed his nose and mouth, looking wary. “I never seen a goat. And chickens run so fast. On TV they have sharp teeth.”

“Beaks,” Owen said absently. Vermont had goats and chickens, but he’d bet Ben had never been near anything as fraught with danger as a petting zoo.

He backed himself up. He couldn’t second-guess the way Lilah was raising their son. Lots of kids Ben’s age didn’t associate regularly with farm animals.

“Don’t know if I like ’em,” Ben said.

“We’ll cross that farm when we come to it. Hold on a sec.” He got into the car and started the engine. On the screen in the console, he found the navigation system. He hit the icon for voice commands. “Scholar’s Lady, Barnesville, Vermont,” he said.

A male voice with a New Zealand accent responded. “I will navigate you to the Scholar’s Lady in Barnesville, Vermont,” the man said.

Owen laughed, and Ben giggled.

“That man talks funny,” Ben said. “Why did you pick him?”

“I didn’t. The man or woman who rented this car before us chose him,” Owen said. “He startled me.”

“Me, too. Our car has a lady’s voice, but the lady gets mad a lot. Mommy tries out different voices.”

“The lady on my car gets mad at me, too. Maybe I’ll switch to New Zealand guy.”

“What’s New Zealand?”

“A country way far from here, where people talk like this guy.”

Ben just giggled. Owen pulled away from the curb. Lilah was still glued to the last step on her porch.

He ignored a pang of guilt. For a moment, he saw himself through her eyes, and the self-awareness was unpleasant.

“What do you want to do after we eat?” Owen asked his son, as if he got to hang out with his child all the time.

“Duck bowling.”

“Duck bowling?” He made a wild guess. “There’s a place called Duckpins across from my hotel. I walked in there last night.” And out again when the beer taps began to sing his name.

“Did you practice?” Ben asked.

“I didn’t know you’d want to play. I got a hamburger to go.”

“I love duck bowling.” Kicking his feet, Ben lifted an ecstatic gaze upward and pumped both fists. Then he drooped a little. “Sometimes, the ball goes too far.”

“Too far?”

“When I throw the ball, it flies away and hits other people’s balls. Or the floor. Really hard.”

“Good tip, buddy. Thanks. Maybe we should stop for helmets.”

Ben laughed. “Mommy says that, too.”

* * *

BEN WAS AIMING in the wrong direction, so Owen sprang to catch the ball. Fortunately, his boy always missed to the left, so he’d moved them to the last lane on the end. So far, Ben’s throws hadn’t been strong enough to bust out the wall.