Chapter 7 #3
“She didn’t notify me,” I’d heard him whisper to Jack, sounding tormented. “The school didn’t notify me. And Aiden didn’t have a phone. Am I supposed to put a GPS tracker on my kid now? What if she just forgets him someplace?”
By the time I’d glanced up from the fantasy book about warrior mages I’d been reading aloud—one of my favorites from when I was a kid—and saw that Aiden was asleep, the farmhouse had fallen silent, and it seemed like everyone was in bed.
But when I got to the kitchen, I found Webb sitting in the same spot where he’d sat earlier with his head in his hand, looking like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Webb?” I said softly.
“Huh?” His head jerked up in alarm. “Does Aiden need me?”
“No, not right now. He’s out cold.”
“Oh.” He settled back down.
“Where’s Knox?”
“I don’t know. He took off about the time Aiden was conning you into eating sundaes with him, and I called him after you went up to read Aiden his story, but he hasn’t answered.
” He chuckled softly. “I wanna say I don’t have the brain space to worry about him right now, but that would be a lie.
Not that anyone will let me help them, anyway. ”
I shifted uncomfortably. I almost wanted to apologize for being the person Aiden had wanted to put him to bed. “Can I get you anything before I go? A snack or tea or…?”
“Absolutely not. You’ve done enough for this family today, Gage,” Webb said, his voice friendly but kind of empty, like the night had hollowed him out.
He sat up straighter. “Being an emotional support human for a bunch of Sundays was not what I had in mind when I offered you this job. Not what you had in mind when you took it either, I bet.”
“This is a great job,” I said firmly. “With an amazing family that’s been nothing but welcoming and wonderful. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I was a little bit startled to realize this was absolutely true. No matter what happened with Knox, I was glad I was there.
“Plus,” I added slyly, “I’m getting a really generous salary, don’t forget.”
Webb’s mouth pulled up at one corner. “For forty hours a week of actual work. Add in another thirty of attending charity dances, babysitting my kid, volunteering in the jam kitchen when Brenda hurt her wrist, helping with Aiden’s science project, running the cash register at the U-pick last Sunday, and dealing with the occasional child abduction,” he said grimly, “and you’re the biggest bargain ever.
Next time I need our systems upgraded, I’ll try to be more honest about what someone can expect while working here. ”
Next time. My heart twisted just a tiny bit at that idea, even though obviously he was right. It was the end of September already. In just a couple of months, I’d have moved on, and they’d have moved on from me, too.
Knox would remember me as that ridiculous child who’d bugged him for a few weeks one autumn. And I… hell, I’d be too busy in the city to remember him at all by then.
Wouldn’t I?
“I like the Hollow, even though I keep seeing the signs for violet fudge and I’m not sure where to buy it.
I like the roads with their fourteen billion scenic overlooks.
Rand Carver is the friendliest police officer ever.
Your pal Jack is…” A handsy bastard who needs to keep his paws off my lumberjack.
“…lovely. Really lovely. And Ms. Fortnum is terrifying in the best way. Any programmer would be lucky to live here.” I hesitated.
“Though you might want to clarify a bit about the proximity to cows.”
Webb snickered and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.
“I’m heading to bed. I’ll lock up behind you.
” He stood and clapped a hand on my shoulder as I headed toward the door.
“I’m gonna be sad to see you go, but when you’re ready to move on from the Hollow, you know I’m gonna give you a hell of a reference, right?
You’re a good man, Gage. Thanks for being someone my kid can trust.”
Oh, wow. I sucked in a breath and tried not to look as stunned as I felt, but in my whole life, I wasn’t sure anyone had ever said anything like that to me. Taken me seriously that way.
I had one older brother who was competent and in charge and another older brother who was the sweetest human to ever exist. They were both taller and stronger and funnier than me. People counted on them for things all the time.
My only gift was being more tech savvy than most people, and on an island with terrible internet and spotty cell service, that hadn’t been particularly useful.
It had made me stick out rather than fit in.
Somehow here in the Hollow, where the cows outnumbered the humans—a terrifying reality I pondered almost every day—I felt more useful than I ever had at home.
“Don’t thank me. I’ve never been so popular in my whole life as I am with Aiden,” I said, which was true. “Thanks for letting your kid chill with me.”
“I heard you two are winning the science fair with some robotic dog-treat dispenser.”
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss the specifics while the patents are still pending, Webb,” I said archly.
He laughed.
“Hey,” I added impulsively, “if you ever need to talk—”
“Thanks, Gage, but I’ll be okay. If you need an impossible task, try getting my brother to talk. Good luck with that.”
But it turned out I didn’t need luck at all, because when I got back to the apartment, Knox was sitting on the sofa, deep in a bottle of vodka and ready to chat up a storm.
“See this?” he called in lieu of greeting before I’d even closed the door.
“This bottle was a gift from Bormon Klein Jacovic. A get-well present. Because what every person with mental health issues needs is top-shelf vodka, right?” He snickered.
“Grab another glass from the kitchen, Goodman, and let’s toast to oblivious coworkers and to mothers who kidnap their own children. ”
Wow. Okay, then. Not just chatty but drunk-chatty.
And unhappily drunk-chatty, at that.
I approached with caution.
“None for me, thanks. Still dehydrated from last week, remember?” But I took a seat on the far side of the couch and hitched up my knee to face him.
“I guess this answers the question of where you disappeared to, huh? Webb was worried. And what do you mean ‘mental health issues’?” I added belatedly.
“No one told you?” Knox’s green eyes were a little unfocused but not totally glassy.
Buzzed, then, not drunk. “I get panic attacks. The stress of my life in Boston was too much for me, or so my doctor says.” He rolled his eyes.
“But all is well with me now that I ran home to Vermont, so Webb doesn’t need to worry.
All is well with me. You know, I’ve repeated that phrase often enough, it almost felt true? At least, it did this morning.”
“Okay,” I said lightly, like my heart wasn’t squeezing at the pain in his voice. “I guess that explains the health issues Webb mentioned when I first got here. He never specified.”
Knox snorted. “He didn’t specify, and you didn’t push for an explanation? That’s not like you.”
I got that he meant the comment mockingly, but he was right.
It wasn’t like me. “I didn’t really think about it.
” I frowned. “I guess maybe because you seemed so healthy. My bad. Is there something I can do to help? My college roommate took meds for his anxiety, and it really made a huge difference. Meditation helped, too. And therapy. And I know it’s almost a joke between us, but yoga—”
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, no yoga for me, thanks. My therapist suggested reciting mantras, and I do that sometimes. I wanted medication, but he said I’d need to be monitored for side effects and do weekly talk therapy, too.
” Knox wrinkled his nose, and his bright green eyes were almost vulnerable as they met mine.
“And you… don’t want to do weekly therapy?”
“It seems…” He hesitated. “Excessive.”
“Does it, though?” I peered at him. “Therapy is a perfectly normal, healthy, responsible thing to do. There’s zero shame in needing mental health—”
“Yes, I know,” Knox said in a voice that said he absolutely did not know, or maybe that he believed it was true for other people but not for himself.
I sighed. “You think it makes you weak to talk about your feelings?”
“No! Not at all. I just…” His mouth firmed and he shook his head once. “It does no good to dwell on negative shit. You’ve gotta push through. Keep looking forward. Remember people are counting on you. You know?” He sipped his drink. “That’s a life lesson for you, Goodman. Free of charge.”
“Wow.” I leaned my head on my hand. “That advice is worth about as much as I paid for it.”