Page 13 of Rescue

Jon looks up from his plate, his fork pausing mid-air. He glances at me, perhaps hoping for rescue, but I just smile and take another bite of pie.

“I’m a doctor,” he says after a moment.

Layla’s eyes widen. “A real doctor? Like the one who fixes broken bones and makes people better?”

“Something like that,” he replies, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “I work with children most of the time.”

“Like me?” Layla asks, her excitement bubbling over. “Do you help kids like me?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he says, cutting into his food. A darkness settles on his face.

“Layla,” I cut in gently, giving her a pointed look. “What did I say about interrogating people during dinner?”

She pouts slightly but sets her fork down, clearly gearing up for another question.

“And put your colouring book away, please. You know we don’t eat and colour at the same time,” I remind her, nodding toward the brightly coloured pages still sprawled across the table.

“Fine,” she sighs dramatically, gathering up the book and placing it on the counter. But as soon as she’s back in her seat, her attention shifts right back to Jon.

“What’s your favourite animal?” she asks, as if it’s the most pressing question in the world.

Jon raises an eyebrow but answers without hesitation. “Dogs.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, her face lighting up. “We don’t have a dog. Mum says they’re too much work. Do you have a dog?”

Jon shakes his head, cutting into his food. “No, not anymore.”

Layla’s expression shifts to one of genuine concern. “What happened to it?”

“Layla, love,” I interject, sensing Jon’s discomfort. “Let Jon eat his dinner, yeah?”

She sinks back into her chair, muttering a quiet, “Sorry.”

Jon, to my surprise, softens a little. “It’s alright,” he says, glancing at her. “You ask good questions.”

Layla’s smile returns, and the light in her eyes is impossible to miss.

For the next few minutes, the only sound is the clink of forks against plates, the conversation settling into a companionable silence. Even Jon seems a little more relaxed, though his posture remains as straight as ever.

After finishing her last bite, Layla jumps down from her chair and announces, “I’m going to watch TV!”

“First you get ready for bed, then you can watch a little TV,” I remind her of our usual routine. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” I call after her as she dashes up the stairs, her footsteps a rhythmic thud on the wooden steps.

“Goodnight, Jon!” she shouts from the landing.

“Goodnight, Layla,” he replies, his voice a touch warmer than before.

I smile to myself as I clear the plates, glad to see even a flicker of softness from him. “Tea?” I ask, turning toward him. “I’ve got some muffins too, if you fancy dessert.”

Jon hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Thanks.”

I pour the tea and plate up a couple of muffins, setting everything down on the table. Jon leans back slightly, his hands wrapped around the mug, and I notice some of the tension in his shoulders has eased.

“It’s nice here,” he says suddenly, his gaze flicking around the kitchen. “Quiet.”

“Not too quiet, I hope,” I reply, sitting down across from him.

He shakes his head slightly. “No, it’s good. Peaceful.”

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