21. Rook
TWENTY-ONE
ROOK
The doctor was in the room with my mom and Aunt Penelope, working on my dad. I wanted to feel hopeful, but I could still hear my mom crying. It was too painful to be in there with them, and Nova was finally asleep. Just like the other kids, so I didn’t want to make any noise by turning on the television.
Instead, I decided to go back down to the cellar.
There was something about lying on that rug with Nova that felt like hope. The way she prayed over and over again for my dad to be okay. I felt like that rug was magic now. Some kind of magic at least…for some reason I just wanted to be near it. To continue to feed it hope, and somehow get my dad back.
I flipped the light, pulled up the hatch and slowly made my way down the stairs. The wind from the sliver of space in the old door still whistled, and it was freezing, but I didn’t care. The cold was a reminder to stay awake and hope for miracles.
It was almost Christmas. So whatever magic was left in the world would leave soon. I had to somehow grab it, hold it and save it for my dad. By the time I reached the small rug, I was on the verge of tears, but everything in my mind seemed to stop. Because sitting there on my rug was a man I’d never seen before, and the hatch to the tunnel was open .
“Who—Who are you?” My voice cracked as I tried not to let my fear show. The man swung his face in my direction, and I froze again. For an entirely different reason.
“You look like me.”
The man’s eyes widened as if I surprised him. Then he smiled.
“Well, I think we might be family, little man.” He stepped away from the hatch and dusted off his jeans. He had on a thick hoodie that had some faded graphic on it, but it hid his arms, not his hands though. Those were scarred but had tons of ink marking all the available skin.
“You’re related to my dad?” I tipped my head back. He looked like my dad, but he looked like me even more.
He knelt down in front of me, getting at my eye level. He had eyes that matched mine. His dark hair was longer too, and a few pieces of silver showed at the roots.
“I’m his brother.”
Dad’s brother died. “Uncle Alec?”
The man looked surprised for a second but masked it quickly. “Nope.”
Dad had never mentioned another brother, neither had Mom. Maybe this was a bad man, or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be here…but how did he look like me then?
“Then what’s your name?”
He gave me a look that was a little confusing. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t angry either. He just seemed like he was trying to piece something together. “I’m Max.”
“No one has ever mentioned you.”
My dad’s brother rubbed his chin as if he were contemplating my answer, then he moved to a box sitting on the floor and began digging through it. “No one ever mentioned me? I’m the oldest, how could they not mention me. Are you the oldest, Rook? Could you imagine someone not mentioning you some day?”
I shook my head then wondered if my uncle knew that my dad was upstairs fighting for his life.
“You should know my dad might not make it.” My voice was sad, and as much as I tried to mask my pain, it seemed to be leaking through and there wasn’t anything I could seem to do about it .
Max seemed to focus on my words, like I’d said something that interested him.
“He was shot?”
I nodded, my throat feeling tight.
Max let out a sigh, then ruffled my hair while he moved to another box, like he was searching for something. “Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He upstairs?”
“Yeah, a doctor is helping him.”
The expression on Max’s face seemed to shift as he moved to the side, taking a seat on the bench.
“Is your dad good to you?”
I moved to sit next to him too. “He’s the best.”
Max laughed, making his shoulders shake a bit.
“And how about your mom, is she good to you?”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Is she the one who told you about your Uncle Alec?”
How did he know that? I tilted my head to check his expression. “Yeah, how did you know?”
His fingers tapped against his knee. “Just a thought.”
“How old are you, Rook?”
“Nine.”
Max stretched his legs out, leaning against the shelf. “You give much thought to what you’ll do once you get old enough?”
I shrugged. “Probably work the orchard, like my dad.”
Max seemed to think it over, then he pulled out a pen from his pocket and a piece of paper, and wrote something down. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see it. But once he was finished, he folded it up tight and turned toward me.
“I need you to give this to your dad when he’s awake enough to understand.”
I carefully took the note and started to open it, but Max put his hand over mine.
“Only your dad.”
“But what if he doesn’t?—”
Max shook his head and held firmer to my hand. “He will.”
Just then I heard my mom calling for me from the top of the cellar. I turned to look in that direction, but by the time I turned back around, I saw Max moving back toward the hatch.
“Wait, where are you going? Don’t you want to see my dad?”
Max gave me a quick wave, before shaking his head. “Not this time, but be sure he gets that note. Okay?”
He lifted the hatch and started climbing down into the tunnel, and before I could say anything else, he’d closed it and disappeared from view.