“At least I know who my mailman is,” he said and felt comforted by knowing that Bennett would be passing by his house five out of seven days a week.
Beckoning Eliot to follow him, James led his son into the small bedroom whose window faced the backyard. “Okay, you’ve got to lie down on the floor for the magic to happen. No, roll over. You’ve got to be on your back for this trick. Good. Now close your eyes. Ready?” James waited until Eliot nodded. He turned off the lights and settled next to his son. “You can open your eyes now.”
“Wow!” Eliot’s voice came out as a whisper. “Magic stars! How’d you do that?”
“The house just came that way,” James answered enigmatically. “Do you think you’d like to hang out in this room? I mean, would you like this to be your room?”
Eliot leaned back on his elbows and surveyed the space. Solemnly, he replied. “Yes. I like it.” He then asked, “Am I moving here, Mom?”
Jane stood in the doorway, surveying the stars. “You’re going to have two homes, Eliot. Isn’t that cool? Sometimes you’ll sleep at my house and sometimes at Daddy’s.” She glanced quickly at James. “But you and Daddy need to spend more time together before you start having sleepovers, okay?”
Her eyes met James’s and he nodded in recognition that what she was saying was both wise and true. He did need to become more familiar with his son’s habits before taking charge of him without Jane present as a chaperone. “Listen, buddy,” he touched Eliot lightly on the hand. “I’m moving into this house over the next few days, but I haven’t picked out stuff for your room yet. I don’t really know how to decorate it. Maybe if you told me the name of your favorite book, I could make this room really special for you.”
Yawning again, Eliot replied. “That’s easy. I like Curious George the best. He’s always getting in trouble.”
“Come on, my little monkey. Time to go,” Jane commanded.
Eliot gave James another of his rapid hugs and then submitted to being tightly enveloped in a coat, hat, scarf, and mittens.
“Are you free Sunday afternoon?” James asked Jane as she took Eliot’s mittened hand.
“We sure are. Let’s spend some time going over our calendars then. I figure Eliot’s going to need to stay with me during the weekdays so he can get to school on time, but you could come to our place in the evening and he can come here on weekends. You know, not overnight at first, but for the day anyway.” She drew Eliot close to her. “Why don’t I take care of supper Sunday night? I’ve actually learned how to make a few dishes, believe it or not.”
Recalling what an atrocious cook Jane had been during their marriage, James shook his head. “Pop’s wife will never speak to me again if she isn’t allowed to stock my fridge. I know it’s early on in this whole getting-to-know-each-other thing, but could Eliot’s grandparents stop by for a bit Sunday? Maybe just for dessert? They want to meet him so badly.”
“Of course!” she responded, and then instantly lowered her voice. “But I remember your father all too well. Is he going to hurt me after… how I treated you?”
James shrugged nonchalantly. “If Pop comes at you with his fists clenched, just use Eliot as a human shield. He’d never hit his only grandchild.”
Giving him a playful punch in the arm, Jane waved goodbye and then gave their weary son a piggyback ride to the car. James watched as she buckled Eliot into his booster seat and then fired up the Volvo’s engine. Eliot placed his small hand against the glass of his window and wiggled them in farewell. The car rolled slowly down the driveway and turned onto Hickory Hill Lane.
James stood on the front porch until the bright red taillights grew as small and distant as the winter stars.
Saturday was painting day. James dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and jeans and loaded a thermos with vanilla hazelnut coffee. Carrying a portable CD player and a copy of Curious George under his arm , he used his free hand to unlock the front door to his new house. He paused for a brief moment, allowing images from his pizza dinner with Jane and Eliot to bring a smile to his face, and then made preparations to paint the kitchen. As he listened to Sugarland’s new CD and sipped coffee, he removed switch plates, filled in nail holes, and applied tape around the windows and woodwork trim. Dipping his brush into a can of white primer paint, James wondered what his friends were doing at the moment and when they’d get together in order to talk about the case. He wanted to tell them about Eliot too, but that kind of news had to be delivered in person.
He had just finished the primer coat when the doorbell rang.
“Surprise!” The supper club members shouted in greeting and filed into his house, rubbing cold hands together as they immediately began to inspect their surroundings.
Gillian strode into the center of the living room and plunked down a green hemp purse embroidered with lavender dragonflies. “Everyone stop right there! I’m going to perform a cleansing ritual called smudging that is practiced by the Native Americans of the Northwest.” She dug out an apparatus resembling a torch from her bag and lit it with a purple Bic lighter. “I’m going to allow the smoke from this cluster of sage, cedar, and sweetgrass to graze the walls in every room. I’d like the rest of you to quietly visualize James living a life of peace and happiness in this house while I purify the air.”
Murmuring to herself, Gillian spun around the room, directing a waft of torch into each corner. Bennett stared at her, in a state of bemused mystification, but Lindy stood with her eyes closed and her hands clasped, inhaling the pleasant scent of the burning herbs. James decided this might not be the best time to ask where Lucy was or if she had spilled the beans about Eliot.
Once Gillian was safely out of sight purifying the master bedroom, Bennett strolled into the kitchen and picked up a paint roller. “In addition to burnin’ bushes in your new house, we’re here to work. What color should I paint these walls, my man?”
“I can’t believe you guys!” James was touched by the offer. “It’s good enough just to see you. You don’t need to spend your day off slaving over cans of paint.”
Lindy threw her coat on the hall floor and pushed up the sleeves of her paint-speckled artist’s smock. “Many hands make light work. Lucy’ll be here by lunchtime, so let’s get something done before then. Where do you want me, James? Should I start priming the living room? Oh! Look at these adorable animals!” She pointed at the crocodile table. “Those look like the twins’ handiwork.”
Picking up his copy of Curious George, he said, “Scott and Francis are the marvelous animal creators, yes, but I’m also in need of your particular artistic talents, Lindy. I’ll tell you why in a second.”
James waited for Gillian to reappear in the living room. She had him extinguish the torch and asked him to inhale its revitalizing fragrance. Only after she’d waved the smoke over every inch of his body was he permitted to gather his three friends around his scrapbook.
They received his announcement exactly as he had expected them to: with shouts of joy, warm embraces, and dozens of questions.
“And you want me to paint his room?” Lindy exclaimed with misty eyes. “I am so honored!”
Bennett clapped James on the back. “Man oh man, you sure know how to throw one in from left field. I can’t wait to see your Mini Me. Eliot Henry. Congrats, my friend. Congrats.”