Duncan’s big brown eyes darken slightly, little storm clouds swirling behind them. He turns his attention back to his cereal, lifting the spoon to his mouth and chewing.
“Speaking of books, Lorna dropped off a bag of them for Duncan last night while you were at dinner.”
“Where is the bag?”
“I put it in the living room. There’s a reading list for him, from school, and she’s got information there on local camps he may be interested in going to while he settles into Sweetkiss Creek a little more.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, keeping my voice light. Personally, I don’t see where any good can come of sticking him into a summer camp after all he’s been through, but what do I know? “Duncan, it’s going to be a good summer. We’ll get a routine down for you in no time, my friend.”
Duncan doesn’t acknowledge me one way or the other.He simply lifts his spoonful of cereal to his mouth and chews, big brown eyes taking everything in.
Defeated, I look at my mother. She grabs the coffee pot and fills her mug, indicating for me to follow her as she heads to the back door.
“Levi, can I show you something in the yard real quick?”
I throw Duncan a smile and do as my mother tells me. As soon as I close the door behind me and walk onto the back porch, she grabs my hand and pulls me around to the side, where Duncan can’t see us.
“That poor boy is still in a state of shock. We need to go really easy with him.”
Now it’s time to rat him out. “That poor boy is working at Georgie’s today because she caught him trying to steal a book.”
“What?” she snaps.
“You heard me right. He also spoke more last night than he has in the short amount of time he’s been with us.”
My mother’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “He did?”
“Only when he was trying to explain himself.” I put a hand on my hip. “Georgie said he could come and work it off today. Which is better than the fact she could have pressed charges.”
Mom turns and leans on the porch railing, looking over the backyard as she grips onto her mug so tight her knuckles turn white. She’s raised two boys, she knows how they can be, but I’m sure this kind of thing is a bit of a surprise. No one expects to have a small human around who likes to lift things.
“We’re lucky it’s Georgie and she’s a kind soul. What was he thinking?”
“I’d love to know,” I say with a heavy sigh, leaning against the railing and once again, mimicking my mother’s stance. I follow her line of sight to where Austin, my younger brother, stands out in one of the fields. Four dogsbounce around him, playing. “But it's not like he’s opening up to me, is it?”
“With time, sweetie. He had to get used to all of this change. He’s had a lot handed to him.”
She’s right. I know I’m still coming to grips with what’s happened and the loss. Tom was my high school best friend and we’d stayed the kind of friends over the years who, no matter what, could pick things up where we left them. It was always like no time had passed when we got together. No matter where our lives took us, we had our growing up in common.
There’d been a fire at their house, and luckily Duncan made it out. His parents, sadly, weren’t so lucky. Katie passed away immediately from inhalation, and we had all hoped and prayed that Tom would make it through. I’d flown to New York and stayed with Duncan, while Tom was kept in a coma.
When Tom passed away, I brought Duncan back to Sweetkiss Creek with me, but I was about to start my season, with a contract that wouldn’t allow any time away to help get Duncan settled. Quick to raise her hand to help, Lorna all but insisted she take Duncan for the time being.
However, at the end of my season, Duncan was still settling into his new life. When Lorna brought up the fact it could be better for his mental health, and for consistency, that he stay with her at least until the school year was over, I was hesitant. But, I said yes. Cause it’s about Duncan and his needs, not what I want. He was barely speaking and wasn’t communicating with anyone, not even with Lorna. I’d encouraged her to seek help from a therapist, but she didn’t think it was needed. Her words to me were that he’d come around, she was his grandmother after all, so she’d get him talking.
But she didn’t—and he isn’t.
“You’re right. I think it’s time I made an appointment for him to see a therapist,” I say, turning to the side, angling myself to faceher. “We can’t begin to understand what he’s been through, and I don’t know anyone he can talk to that could be a sounding board who would ‘get it.’ It’s time for the professionals to help us out.”
“I can do some research today and see who I can find locally,” she says, knowingly, nodding her head in agreement. “He’ll come out of his shell eventually. We just have to be patient.”
I nod in understanding. As I do, Mom nudges me in the ribs with her elbow. “So, if he was at Pages and Prose ‘shopping,’” she says using air quotes, “does that mean you saw Georgie last night?”
“Aren’t you subtle?” I laugh. “Yes, I saw her last night.”
“Can’t stay away, can you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
