Page 20 of Bows & Eros
"It will look better when I'm finished," he said with a crooked smile. "I promise."
"I can already see it will be exceptional," I replied softly, turning to look up into those lovely blue eyes. "Honestly, I envy your talent. I've never been much of an artist myself."
"I'd say competence is an artform," he told me with a shrug. "You're a better parent than me and you don't even have children."
"I have two dozen children during the day," I reminded him. "And they change every year."
"Fair enough."
There was a pause, the two of us simply looking at one another held in the awkward uncertainty that usually accompanies a friendly venture that was alsomaybea date. That feeling of a crush that has lingered just a tiny bit too long, or standing at the door with your homecoming date at fifteen, wondering if a kiss is about to happen or just a firm handshake and mumbled goodbye.
He still had the ghost of a smile on his lips from playing the humble artist, and his sandy hair was spiking up in all directions, a decidedly unfashionable but endearing look for a man who never quite knows how to dress himself. His eyes were soft, though, and locked on mine with an intensity that made my heart beat just a little harder than it was before.
"Dad?" came a small voice, muffled behind the door leading into the home. It creaked open, a strawberry-blond head poking into the garage uncertainly. "Oh. Miss Avri?"
"Aaron," Ethan breathed, taking four long strides across the garage floor and kneeling down to pull his son into a tight embrace. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"
Aaron returned the hug with the passionate abandon we only have when we are children. He threw his arms wide and gripped his father about his wide shoulders, completely unconcerned with self-doubt or the impracticality of their compared proportions. "Really?" he marveled, his mouth pressed into his father's jacket. "We didn't see you! Uncle Hermes said ..."
"Yeah, I'm sure he did," Ethan replied with a dry laugh, releasing the boy and holding him at an arm's length. "We should have talked about your Uncle Hermes a long time ago,beforehe came into town to see you."
"Why? I remembered him," Aaron said, his blue eyes wide and curious, "from New York."
"You remember being three years old, do you?" Ethan stood, placing a hand on his son's head and motioning for me to join them. "Let's go inside, where it's warm. I'll make everyone cocoa."
Aaron brightened considerably, all thoughts of his mischief in town and his mysterious uncle apparently overshadowed by the promise of liquid chocolate. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the house interior, seemingly unfazed by my presence in his home or my invitation to this private family ritual. "Do you like hot cocoa, Miss Avri?" he asked, a little bit breathless with the anticipation of it. "Dad puts inlotsof marshmallows."
"The marshmallows are my favorite part," I confessed, allowing myself to be tugged along until we reached the living room couch—where just hours prior, I had sat in a stew while Ethan Weaver tossed mismatched gloves and a hat to me. It looked much more inviting now, under the soft, pink lamplight with the frosted windows letting in the moonlight.
I sank down into the cushion next to Aaron, who snuggled up to me as though I were expected here, and belonged. It wasn't that he had never treated me this way before. He had. Exactly one year ago, he had cried in my arms on Family Fun Day and then spent hours folding paper airplanes with me in my empty classroom while I wiped his tears away and offered unlimited hugs whenever he felt he needed one. I remember how badly I had wanted to drop a kiss on his head then, how protective and outraged I had been that someone had made one ofmychildren cry.
I suppose I had earned the intimacy he was showing me now. And I realized that in this context, in this house, I might kiss his head and hold him close without worries of impropriety.
"I didn't know you were friends with my dad," Aaron said to me, his voice almost a whisper as though he didn't want to be overheard. "Isn't he cool? Did you see the sculpture in the garage? It's gonna be a lady with wings."
"I did see it. Right now it's just a rectangle with an arm."
He giggled, his eyes searching my face as he turned contemplative. "Miss Avri, am I in trouble for what I did today at school?"
"I don't think anyone at the school knows it was you, Aaron. I don't think any of them really understand what happened at all."
"What about my dad, though? Is he really mad?"
I shook my head, patting his arm through the soft fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. "Not mad, no. Surprised and worried and scared for you, yes, but not mad. We couldn't find you, and that is scary. Your uncle didn't tell us he was taking you, so we thought you might even be all alone out there, lost in the cold. You could have been hurt and we didn't know where to find you."
"Oh." He frowned, his gaze sinking down into his lap as he considered this. "I was having so much fun. I didn't even think of that."
"I know you didn't. Honestly, I think discovering magical powers would distract even a grown-up,but," I said, emphasizing the word with a lift of my index finger, "we have to talk about how you use those powers, and what is and isn't fair to other people."
I thought of the crumpled airplane in my handbag, of the way I had felt next to Ethan in that garage before we were interrupted, and knew my cheeks were turning red. I wanted to ask Aaron if I had been "hit" by sitting on one of his magic arrows, but the prospect of asking was just too embarrassing to manifest itself just now.
If I drank, now would be the time to indulge.
I sighed.
"Do you really remember meeting your uncle back in the city?" I asked, just to keep the subject going. "It's unusual to keep memories from when we were so small."
"Yeah, he bought me these colorful balls and told me about the magic," Aaron said, sounding a bit mystified by it himself. "I didn't remember until I saw him again, though."
