“No! For real?”
“Yes!”
“It’s true,” Luke says ruefully.
“Hmm. Well, maybe she was born when the sun was shining, or maybe it was a prophetic sort of thing, and her mom hoped she’d bring sunshine wherever she went.”
“But my name’s Shade. Wouldn’t that be a bad thing then?”
Jeez, this kid is smart. How is he only four? I guess he’s more like four going on forty. He’s lost his mom, had a string of nannies, and probably has to hang around adults all the time while his dad is working. I’m sure he’s had a pretty unconventional childhood so far. I’m going to have to watch myself around this one. Honestly, things are looking up. I’d hate to look after a bratty kid, but preciousness, I can handle. I think it will actually be a lot of fun.
“Uh, well, have you ever been outside when it’s so hot and you’re so thirsty, and you’re sweating and wilting, and you feel like you might keel over at any second? Like you just can’t take it anymore?” Shade nods at me. “Then you’ll know what a great thing shade can be. It’s like a shelter for people when they need it most.”
Shade considers that. Finally, he grins at me. “I’m hungry,” he announces again.
Singular-minded directness can be an attractive quality. It beats the heck out of guessing, which is what I’m currently doing when my eyes flick to Luke’s face. He’s back to being stony once he notices me looking at him. His eyebrow lifts suggestively, but of course, he’s not going to say anything. I want to point out that it’s after five, and does this day even really count as day one? But I figure I should make a good first impression.
“Can we have hot dogs?” Shade asks.
“No,” Luke responds.
“Fries?”
“No.”
“Pizza?”
“Not tonight.”
“Chicken nuggets?”
Jeepers on a stick. So much for the health food talk that Luke tried to give me. None of those are nutritious.
“It’s a surprise,” Luke says before guiding Shade away from the steps. He doesn’t have to give me a stink eye for me to realize he’s just waiting for me to fail.
Well, eff that. It’s not going to happen. “I’ll make something,” I blurt.
“Kitchen’s all yours. We’ll be in the backyard.” Shade cheers and runs off while Luke follows after him. His expression never changed, but I know he’s dang well satisfied with himself.
I have a moment of panic after they clear out, and my panic only increases when I head into the kitchen. It’s not big and scary with complicated appliances, which works in my favor. Instead, it’s a normal L-shaped kitchen filled with espresso cabinets, a small island, a double stainless-steel sink, and appliances. The same dark hardwood that’s on the rest of the main floor carries through in here. Like most kitchens, there’s a table off to the left, and it’s round and has four chairs. All very normal.
Luke doesn’t appear to be in the same income bracket as Sam or any of her family, and I still think it’s weird she knows him, but whatever. I have bigger fish to fry at the moment. Maybe literally.
My hopes sink when I search the fridge and cupboards and find them basically empty. What the heck do they eat around here? Luke must have been ordering in every night or going for takeout. Shade’s demands make sense then.
I do find a package of unopened macaroni, a jar of pasta sauce, and a very dubious package of frozen sausage that looks like it’s more ice than sausage.
I’ll have to ask for some money or a card and the keys to the vehicle if Luke wants to eat in the future or have me feed Shade. The kitchen seriously looks like the inhabitants of the house cleared out ages ago and sort of forgot a few things on purpose because they’re gross and inedible.
Fudge my life for so many, many reasons. Today just keeps getting better and better.
As I fumble around the kitchen, I happen to glance out the window. There’s a big fenced yard back there. Huge, actually. There’s also plenty of grass and a deck to the side. It’s all very neat, if quite soulless. Shade and Luke are throwing a little yellow toy football around, and I can tell Shade’s laughing even though the house is fairly soundproof. He seems like a happy kid.
I can’t get over how different Luke is when he’s with his son. He’s so warm, so alive. Maybe not happy exactly, but a close approximation. He’s probably the one person on earth who doesn’t force happiness like everyone else. The sadness is still there; it’s just less visible for his son to see.
I turn away from the window and flex my fingers. Maybe I’m going crazy. I’m not usually that perceptive. Everyone always said so. I’m probably just making it all up.