Page 41 of Dream Weaver

She sat between us, chatting a mile a minute during the drive. She did most of the talking once we’d taken a seat and ordered, too. But that was fine with me — and Abby, too, I suspected. She wasn’t exactly one for small talk.

I didn’t care much either way. It was just nice to spend time with her in a place where we weren’t sweating buckets or banging hammers.

Claire asked about the fire. About my home in Wyoming. About my sisters and brothers…

“Yeah, three brothers, two sisters,” I said.

Claire frowned. “But you said you had two brothers.”

Damn. Who knew the kid had such a good memory? And, shit. How to explain?

My expression must have given me away, because Abby’s face fell.

“Claire, sweetie—” she tried, but I shook my head. My mistake, my job to fix it.

“I guess I never know how to count,” I admitted. “I have two brothers now. I still have three here.” I pointed to my heart, doing my best to keep the quaver out of my voice. “But one died.”

“Oh. That’s sad,” Claire said.

Yes, it was. More than I could explain.

Abby looked down, gutted.

“What was his name?” Claire went on.

“Sweetie—” Abby cut in.

“Peter. The oldest,” I said as his last words echoed in my mind.

Head back. I got this. You help the others.

Good old Peter. Keeping an eye on his kid brother, just like he’d promised Mom.

“Did he die in a fire?” Claire asked.

“Claire!” Abby admonished. “I’m so sorry,” she said, then turned back to Claire. “Sweetie, people don’t like talking about sad things.”

“But you said talking is good. Like when Cindy died.”

Abby must have caught my stricken expression, because she touched my arm. “Cindy, the dog. Not a person.”

I exhaled. Whew.

“I loved Cindy,” Claire said defensively.

Abby nodded. “Me too, but it’s different with people.”

It was, but maybe she was right about the talking part. So, I tried, for the first time ever.

“There was a big fire, and Peter didn’t make it out. He made sure I did, though.”

Abby bit her lip and kept her hand on my arm, and somehow, the words kept coming.

“He was really funny and really big…”

“Bigger than you?” Claire asked, all wide-eyed.

I laughed. “Way bigger.”

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