Chapter 15 #2
“You have something she doesn’t.” His tail found my ankle under the desk. “You have eight years of being there every single day. No court will overlook that.”
I wanted to believe him. The logical part of my brain knew he was right. But the scared part, the part that remembered being powerless in foster care, couldn’t quite let go of the fear.
“I need to pick up Corey from school,” I said, checking the time.
“Want company?”
“You don’t have to come with me.”
“I want to if that’s okay.”
We drove to the school together, Gavrel folded into the passenger seat of my small car. His wings pressed against the back of the seat, and his tail curled around the gear shift.
“This car is not designed for gargoyles,” he said.
“Most things aren’t.”
“Rude but accurate.”
Corey spotted us the moment we pulled up. He ran over, backpack bouncing on his spine, already talking before he’d even opened the door.
“Mom, guess what? We’re doing a project on families, and I said I’d interview you and Gavrel and maybe even my grandmother, and Jake said I should interview his grandma too because she makes really good cookies and—”
He stopped, actually looking at us. “Why do you both look serious?”
I glanced at Gavrel. He gave a small nod.
“Get in, baby. We need to talk about something.”
Corey climbed into the back seat, his expression shifting to concern. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Nothing like that.” I pulled out of the parking lot and instead of heading home right away, I swung the car onto the road that wound around the lake. The view would be pretty, if nothing else.
After clearing my throat, I chose my words carefully. “Remember I told you about your grandmother wanting to meet you?”
“The one who came to the house.”
“Yes. We’re meeting with her tomorrow to talk about visits.”
“Visits where?”
“Here. At places you already know. And I’ll be there the whole time.”
“What about Gavrel?” Corey asked. “Will he be there too?”
I met Gavrel’s eyes. He’d turned in his seat to look at Corey.
“If you want me there,” Gavrel said.
“I do. You’re family.”
The words hung in the air. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
My throat closed up with emotions I couldn’t contain.
Gavrel’s tail curled tighter around the gear shift. “Then I’ll be there.”
“Cool.” Corey went back to digging through his backpack. “Jake said having a gargoyle friend is the sickest thing ever. He wants to know if you can teach his dad to fly.”
“Humans can’t fly without wings,” Gavrel said.
“That’s what I told him. But he said maybe you could carry his dad too, and I said that would be weird, but he doesn’t think it would be weird so now we have a bet.”
I listened to Corey chatter, the crisis apparently already processed and filed away. His resilience amazed me. Or maybe he trusted that his team of two, now expanded to three, would handle it.
At home, I sent Corey to wash up and do homework while I checked in with the staff. Gavrel headed out the back door to do something mysterious involving the grill.
After the gardens had closed, I started dinner prep, watching through the kitchen window as he studied the propane tank with his wings spread wide, like he thought it might explode.
Twenty minutes later, he appeared at the back door. “How does one determine if the grill is sufficiently heated?”
“Do you want me to grill the chicken?”
“I thought I’d attempt it myself. How difficult can it be?”
I bit back a smile. “Have you ever grilled before?”
“No, but I’ve watched others do it online. The concept seems straightforward.”
“The concept and the execution are different things.”
“Hence why I’m asking for guidance.”
I grabbed the container with the chicken I’d been marinating and headed outside. Gavrel had managed to get the grill lit. Flames licked up through the grates with what seemed like too much enthusiasm.
“That’s too hot,” I said.
“Fire is meant to be hot.”
“Not that hot. You’ll char everything.”
I showed him how to adjust the temperature and how to tell when the grill was ready. He listened with the same intense focus he brought to carving.
“And you just place the meat directly on the grates?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That seems precarious.”
“It’s how grilling works.”
Corey appeared on the deck. “Are we having a cookout?”
“Gavrel’s learning to grill,” I said.
“Have you never grilled before?” Corey’s eyes went wide. “Not even once?”
“Not even once,” Gavrel said with a twitch of his fingers.
“That’s weird. Everyone grills.”
“Not everyone has access to outdoor cooking equipment.”
“But you lived in France. Don’t French people grill?”
“We do, on occasion.”
I placed the chicken on the grates, showing Gavrel how to judge when to flip it. He hovered with the tongs held like a sword, watching every step.
“Can we roast marshmallows after?” Corey asked.
“If Gavrel doesn’t burn down the deck, sure,” I said.
He huffed, though his eyes sparkled. “I’m not going to burn down the deck.”
“You thought the earlier level of flame was appropriate.”
“I’ve adjusted my understanding of proper grill temperature.”
Corey giggled. “Haven’t you ever toasted marshmallows?”
Gavrel paused. “I’m not even sure what a marshmallow is.”
“Mom.” Corey turned to me with complete seriousness. “We have to teach him. This is important.”
“Very important,” I agreed, fighting a smile.
We ate at the picnic table on the deck, the evening warm and perfect. Gavrel’s tail found my ankle under the table, curling around it in a sweet way.
His wings adjusted constantly, accommodating the space and furniture. When Corey leaned against him to point at a bird in the yard, Gavrel’s wing curved forward, creating a partial shield.
The gesture looked unconscious. Natural.
“So about this grandmother thing,” Corey said, spearing his last piece of chicken on his place. “What do I call her?”
“What do you want to call her?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Grandmother seems like a TV show where everyone’s rich. Grandma seems too much like I already know her.” He looked at Gavrel. “What did you call your grandparents?”
“Grand-mère and grand-père.”
“That’s French for grandmother and grandfather,” Corey said. “I know some French. Jake and I have been looking up swear words online.”
“Corey.”
“What? It’s educational.”
Gavrel’s tail twitched.
“Maybe start with Ms. Blaine,” I suggested. “See how it feels.”
“Okay.” Corey went back to eating. “Is she going to talk about my dad?”
The question landed like a stone on soft ground, digging deep.
I set down my fork. “She might. We can talk about what you want to say.”
“I don’t know what I want to say. I don’t know him.”
“That’s honest. It’s okay to tell her that.”
“Will he be there tomorrow?” Corey’s voice had gone quiet. Uncertain.
“No. Just his mother.”
“Good.” He pushed food around his plate. “I don’t think I want to meet him.”
My heart cracked. “You don’t have to.”
“Ever?”
“It…may not be an option.” Dennis didn’t appear interested in knowing his own son.
Gavrel went very still. His wings spread, not enough to be obvious, but enough that I noticed.
“Can we do marshmallows now?” Corey asked, thankfully done with the heavy conversation.
I cleared our plates while Gavrel lit the grill again, removing the grate. Corey supervised, offering advice that made up for its lack of accuracy with enthusiasm.
By the time I returned with supplies, Corey had found sticks and was demonstrating proper marshmallow toasting technique.
“You have to rotate it,” he said, turning his stick slowly. “Otherwise one side burns.”
I handed out marshmallows and Gavrel held his over the flames, almost glaring at it. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” I said. “Now wait until it’s golden brown.”
“How do I determine golden brown versus simply brown?”
“You just know,” Corey said.
“That’s not helpful.”
I settled onto the bench, watching them. Corey kept up a running commentary about the proper s’more assembly process.
This was family. Not the one I’d been born into or the one I’d tried to create with Dennis, but the one we were building day by day.
Gavrel’s marshmallow caught fire. He yanked it out of the flames, waving it frantically.
“Blow it out,” Corey shouted.
“I’m trying.”
“Blow harder.”
The marshmallow flew off the stick, a flaming projectile that landed in the grass. We all stared at it.
“Well,” Gavrel said. “That was an interesting experience.”
Corey dissolved into giggles. I joined in.
“This is harder than it appears,” Gavrel said, taking another marshmallow and securing it to the end of his stick.
“Everything is harder than it appears,” I said.
He caught my eye, his expression softening. “Not everything.”
Later, after Corey had gone to bed, Gavrel and I sat on the front porch swing.
His wing draped around me, creating a cocoon of privacy. The night air carried the scent of flowers and woodsmoke.
“He called me family,” Gavrel said quietly.
“He did.”
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“He means it.” I leaned into his side. “You are family. To both of us.”
His tail found my leg beneath the swing, twining around my calf.
“I keep waiting for something bad to happen,” I said. “For this to turn out too good to be true.”
“What would convince you it’s real?”
“Time, maybe. Or just letting myself trust my judgment.”
“Your judgment brought you here to this moment. That seems pretty sound to me.”
I turned to look at him. The porch light caught the metallic sheen of his skin and the curve of his horns.
“I’m not the same person who trusted Dennis,” I said slowly. “I was young and eager to be wanted. I ignored every warning sign because I needed to believe someone could love me.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“I’m older. I have an eight-year-old and a whole lot of baggage. And you’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I felt it in my bones. “That’s what scares me. Because if I’m wrong about you, I don’t know how I’ll survive it.”
His wing tightened around me. “You’re not wrong.”
We sat in silence, the swing creaking. Stars appeared overhead, along with a sliver of a moon.
“Tomorrow’s going to be hard,” I said.
“We’ll face Virginia together. You, me, and Nancy. She doesn’t stand a chance.”
I smiled despite my nerves. “You sound pretty confident.”
“In you? Always.”
His certainty settled the anxiety in my chest. I wasn’t facing this alone.
The fear remained, lurking in corners. But so did hope and trust. And the growing certainty that things just might turn out alright.