Father Formula

She hadn’t spent much time with children the boys’ ages, but she didn’t think tidying up after themselves was usual behavior.

“No, thanks,” she replied. “And thank you for cleaning up.”

“You’re welcome.” Brandon followed in Brady’s wake.

Alexis watched him go and wondered how they’d achieved such confidence and competence. Athena had told her a little about their wealthy mother, who went from one husband to another, having children in an attempt to hold them to her then ultimately losing them anyway.

A careless mother had left Alexis feeling inadequate and adrift.

She tried to remember if she’d had confidence at that age. No, she’d been reckless and wild, but that had been intended to conceal the fear that she had no value.

Her art had helped give her a sense of self. Getting back to it again was the only solution. It would be painful to see inadequate work take shape, but it would consume her while the boys were at school and that would help her maintain her sanity, such as it was.

She would buy a disposable camera tomorrow and photograph parts of downtown Dancer’s Beach. There was beautiful scenery, buildings with interesting architectural detail, streets lined with park benches and old-fashioned streetlights.

Perhaps she could capture the heart of small-town life that was disappearing all across America. Schmaltzy idea as paintings went, but it was a place to start.

BRANDON AND BRADY SPRINKLED a jumbo three-meat pizza with red pepper flakes and Parmesan cheese and ate the entire thing, going back twice for refills at the salad bar.

She allowed them three turns each on a video game car chase, then drove home, stopping for a carton of ice cream along the way.

When they arrived home, there was a message from David and Athena saying that they’d arrived in New York and were staying at the Plaza. They had left the number.

“Let’s call them!” Brady suggested eagerly.

Alexis glanced at the clock. “Brady, it’s well after eleven in New York. They’re probably fast asleep.”

“Maybe not.”

“We’ll call tomorrow when you come home from school.”

“Maybe they’re not asleep,” Brady insisted. “Dave works late lots of times.”

“But he’s married now, doofus,” Brandon said, heading for the stairs.

“So?” Brady demanded.

“So, they’re probably…you know.” Brandon cast a knowing but embarrassed glance in Alexis’s direction and waved a hand to replace the words he couldn’t quite say.

“What?” Brady insisted.

Alexis opened her mouth to suggest a diplomatic explanation when Brady’s eyes suddenly widened and his expression made it clear that he understood. He looked horrified for a moment, then shoved Brandon aside and ran up the stairs.

Brandon heaved a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. “He’s still kind of young,” he said, and followed him, Ferdie trailing behind.

Alexis was stunned by that reaction. She knew that children Brady’s age discussed sex among themselves, but often hated the suggestion that their parents or guardians practiced it.

But she was fairly sure that hadn’t been disgust on Brady’s face, but fear. She didn’t understand what that meant. Judging by his behavior with Athena, he seemed to adore her.

“Let me know,” she called after Brandon, “before you turn the lights out.”

When Brandon called shortly after nine, Brady’s room was already dark. Alexis tucked Brandon in, then patted the dog lying on a blanket across the boy’s feet.

“French toast for breakfast?” Alexis asked before flipping off the light.

“Just cereal, please,” he said, snuggling into his pillow. “We’ve got Graham O’s.”

“And you don’t trust my cooking?”

He laughed. “Nope. Good night.”

“Good night, Brandon.”

She went across the hall to Brady’s room, braved the quiet darkness and looked down on him. She suspected he simply pretended to be asleep, but she tucked his blankets in anyway, then went to the door.

“I’d like French toast,” a voice said in the darkness.

Relieved to have some response from him, though still worried about his unusual behavior, Alexis replied briefly, “You got it. Should I get you up a little early so you’ll have more time?”

“More time?”

“To spread butter and drizzle syrup. You have to cover all the corners, you know, or it isn’t as good.”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s true.”

“Brady?” she blurted, moving surreptitiously back toward the bed. “Are you worried about something?”

Silence.

“Because if you are,” she went on intrepidly, “you can tell me and I’ll do what I can to help. I know I’m not as good as having David and Athena here, but I’m sort of like your aunt now. So you can tell me if you’re worried. Or afraid.”

There was silence for another moment, then he said finally, “No. Nothing.”

“Okay.” Dispiritedly she reversed directions. “Two pieces or three?”

“Three.”

“Good night, Brady.”

“Night,” he replied.

All right, she told herself as she walked down the stairs to look through the kitchen and make sure they did indeed have syrup. She hadn’t exactly conquered Everest, but she’d given Brady something to look forward to in the morning. And that might help the curious fear he seemed to be dealing with.

She was relieved beyond words to find a bottle of syrup on a shelf in the refrigerator door.

Chapter Three

Trevyn had the nightmare again. Something told him Farah would try to come along on the raid on the campsite despite his insistence that she shouldn’t. The feeling had swelled inside him until fear began to permeate the calm, deadly edge that was so important to his work.