Chapter 2
I moved Milo out of the nursery.
That came before Leonard.
Before Celina.
Before whatever “transfer” meant.
Ruth took him to my cabin while I followed.
He would not let go of the torn drawing.
I sat on the carpet in front of him.
Not beside the desk.
Not standing over him.
On the floor.
“What did Celina tell you about tomorrow?”
Milo looked toward the door first.
Checking whether she could hear.
That made my stomach turn.
“New house.”
“What house?”
He shrugged.
“Gray one.”
Ruth and I looked at each other.
Grayhaven.
The old Ashford retreat on the Connecticut coast.
My father used it decades ago for children of senior family members.
It had been closed to family schooling since I took command.
At least officially.
“What happens at the gray house?”
Milo whispered:
“I learn not to bother you.”
I shut my eyes.
Ruth covered her mouth.
“Who told you that?”
“Celina.”
“What else?”
His lower lip shook.
“She said Mommy went away because I cried too much.”
My late wife had died when Milo was eighteen months old.
Cancer.
Long illness.
He remembered almost nothing.
Celina knew that.
She had taken an empty place in his memory and filled it with blame.
Ruth turned away because she was crying.
I kept my voice steady.
“Your mother did not leave because of you.”
Milo watched me carefully.
“She loved you.”
“Even crying?”
“Especially crying.”
He frowned.
“That weird.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Then he asked:
“Do you want me?”
I could have killed something inside myself for allowing my son to need that answer.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“All of you.”
He thought.
“Even bad?”
“You’re four. Your bad is mostly throwing peas.”
Ruth laughed through tears.
Milo smiled for the first time.
Then he held up the drawing.
“Celina broke us.”
The paper.
Not us.
But children use objects honestly.
I took both pieces.
“We can fix paper.”
Then I looked at him.
“And she doesn’t get to decide us.”
Downstairs, Gareth was demanding to leave.
Celina was demanding privacy.
Neither received anything.
Before I returned, Milo grabbed my sleeve.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Gray house has new daddy?”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What new daddy?”
May you like
He whispered one name.
“Uncle Leonard.”
