Heart of the Night

Eli swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’d like that.”

“C’mon in, then. I’ll brew some fresh coffee and I have some homemade cinnamon rolls. You can take as long as you need.”

Eli followed her up onto the tiny back porch. He needed a lifetime. But for now, he’d take all the precious moments he could get.

It took a few days, but Eli fell into a routine. He didn’t sleep much, but he got up with the sunrise each day to stare over at the cottage across from his own, waiting and sipping coffee until he saw the kitchen light flick on. Then he’d head over to have breakfast with Gena and Scotty, sitting silent and watchful as he absorbed their endearing daily rituals.

After they took Scotty to school, Gena would go about her computer work while Eli would go back to his cottage to look over yet another frilly scrapbook full of pictures of Scotty and Gena.

And what a pretty picture those two made.

Gena decorated each page with cute little captions and colorful cutouts. There were a lot of firsts in those decorative little story boards—first birthday, first Christmas, first tooth, first snowman, first hockey practice. He had missed a lot in the last few years, but these clever picture books told the story of his son’s life. Gena loved Scotty, that was for sure.

And so did Eli.

Now as he trudged through the snow to the cottage, he did a visual surveillance—this, too, had become part of his daily routine. So far, nothing seemed amiss even though Eli still woke in the night with a sense of dread in his soul. But he did notice an SUV parked at the cottage across the way on the other side of Gena’s house. She’d told him a couple was coming to stay through Christmas. Eli wondered who they were and why they’d chosen such a cold, isolated place to have a vacation. Maybe they wanted some alone time.

He didn’t have time to ponder that. His thoughts went back to his son. How did you protect someone when you didn’t know what you were trying to protect him or her from?

He couldn’t answer his own question. The minute he entered the back door, Scotty bombarded him with fast-paced conversation.

“It’s the last day of school, then we get out for the Christmas break,” Scotty told Eli in between bites of fluffy pancakes. “Hey, want to help me build a snowman when I get home today, Mr. Eli?”

“I think I’d like that,” Eli said, wondering how Gena kept up with this little bundle of energy. He always had another adventure to share. “I’ve never built a snowman before.”

“Honest?” Scotty gave him a look of disbelief. “Why not?”

“Well, we don’t get much snow down in Louisiana.”

“I’m learning my states,” Scotty said, moving on to another subject. “But where’s Lous-anna?”

“It’s Louisiana,” Gena corrected from her spot in front of the stove.

Eli gave Scotty an indulgent smile. He’d been careful not to give out information unless the kid asked. “It’s near Texas and the southern part is right on the Gulf of Mexico. That’s where I grew up.”

“That’s big water,” Scotty said with a bob of his head.

Eli watched as the kid’s hair bounced and bobbed, too. “It is big water, very big. I go shrimpin’ in the Gulf a lot whenever I’m home.”

“You don’t stay home much?”

Eli shook his head. “No, not much. I’ve been away a long time now. But I might go back soon.”

“Maybe one day I can come and visit you,” Scotty said on a pragmatic note. “In the summer.”

Gena shot Eli a warning look tinged with fear. Although she seemed to trust him more and more each day, Eli wasn’t fooled. She was still afraid he’d steal her son away in the middle of the night.

“It gets real hot in Louisiana in the summer,” Eli replied, ever careful with his choice of answers. “But you’d be welcome at my door anytime, for sure.”

“I could help you catch shrimp.”

Eli nodded. “My maman used to say ‘Les petites mains fait bien avec les petits ouvrages.’ Little hands do well with little tasks.”

Scotty giggled. “You talk funny.”

Gena placed another batch of pancakes on the table, then sat down. “Eli is Cajun, Scotty, so he’s speaking French. His ancestors left Nova Scotia, Canada, and went all the way to Louisiana many years ago.”

“From one big ocean to another one,” Eli said, his eyes meeting Gena’s. “But that’s a long story.”

“Cool,” Scotty said, draining his milk. “I know where Canada is. We’re near there.”

“For sure,” Eli replied. “One day, I’ll tell you all about my Cajun ancestors. People get the wrong impression about us, so I like to set the record straight.” He gave Gena a long hard look on that note, hoping she’d try to change her impressions of him. Not that he was making it easy on her. But he had tried to back off and play nice.

Scotty looked confused. “Whatcha talking about?”

“I like to tell people about my culture—the good and bad of it,” Eli explained. “It’s not all about wrestling ’gators and talking funny, although I do both.” He winked, then grinned. “Never met a ’gator I couldn’t wrestle.”

Scotty’s dark eye grew wide. “Have you wrestled a really big one?”

“Not more than six feet or so.”

Scotty’s gaze filled with wonder. “Wow.”

Gena put her hand under her chin and gave him a skeptical look. “I didn’t peg you for being so open, Eli. Or so modest.” Her sarcasm was cute and he was getting used to this friendly banter even if it was mostly for his son’s benefit.

He leaned close, pasting on his best charming smile. “Well, maybe you had me pegged all wrong, oui?”

Scotty looked from his mother to Eli. “How’d you guys meet?”

“By accident,” Eli said, seamless and simple.

“How long you gonna stay?”

Eli gave Gena a determined stare. “Well, now, that depends on a whole lot of things.”

Scotty sat still for a minute. “What do you do, Mr. Eli? For work?”

Gena’s head came up and the gloves came off as she stared daggers of warning at him. She’d made it clear in their conversations that she did not want her son involved in CHAIM in any way. And Eli couldn’t blame her.

“I do all kinds of things to make a living,” Eli said, careful to choose the right words. “I travel a lot and help people in trouble.”

“Are we in trouble? I mean you’ve stayed with us longer than most of our other visitors.”

Gena stood and took Scotty’s empty plate. “No, we’re not in trouble, but you will be if you’re late for school. Go brush your teeth and get your coat.”

Scotty got up but stopped in front of Eli. “Are you riding to school with us again?”

“I just might,” Eli said. “If it’s okay with your mom.” He’d already insisted it be okay. He’d made it his business to help get Scotty to school and home each day since that first morning. His fear of trouble had easily overcome his fear of being a father. Or at least, he kept telling himself that.