He gives a little huff of surprise. “Maybe.”
Keo comes to his other side and pulls out a thin yellow book with a cartoon lunch lady on the front. “My kids used to love these, but…” She gives Colton a soft smile. “...probably not something you can relate to.” She slides it back, then grabs a big book from the bottom shelf. “This one is kind of famous if you like fairy tales?”
Colton’s eyes practically bug out of his head when she parts it open to a scene from Beauty and the Beast where the Beast and Belle are dancing in the library, their eyes locked on each other’s.
Colton frowns. “Um. No kissing books.”
Keo laughs. “Okay.”
“Here’s a funny one if you like cats.” I pull out a few of the humorous Castronauts books that Skye was crazy about last summer.
When I offer one to Colton, he takes it from me and starts reading. After a few pages, he nods. “Yeah, I like this.”
After another twenty minutes of guidance, Colton’s stack of books gets too big to carry around, so he settles into a bean bag chair across from the girl who is already on her second book in her pile and starts to read.
When my kids were little, bringing them to the library on Saturday mornings meant an hour of peace. Sofie would get hooked on some new mystery, Linnie would burn through a tower of picture books, and Jesse would do the craft or play games on the computers.
Keo and I browse for more of what Colton might like, sharing stories from our kids’ adventures and books we remember. When I’m sure we’re alone, I steal a quick kiss, lingering on her lips for afraction of a second. When I finally pull back, she sighs and links her arm with mine.
“Can you come for dinner tonight?” she asks in a hushed tone.
I eye past her to make sure we’re not being overheard. “I would love that. What can I bring?”
A thoughtful expression fills her eyes as she taps her chin. “Hmm. Dessert?”
Leaning in close, I brush the tip of my nose past her ear. “What if I plan to make you dessert?”
She curls into me. “Then I guess we’re set.”
I laugh into her neck. She smells so good. I’m going to have a hard time waiting until tonight to kiss her again.
An hour later, while Keo visits the restroom, Benjamin and I accompany Colton to the circulation desk with his newly minted library card and his limit of ten books. But as we pass through the periodicals section, Colton’s attention zeroes in on a copy of today’s Finn River Journal left on one of the tables.
MISSING CHILDREN RESCUED FROM CULTblares across the top. Below it are side by side school photos of McKenzie and Gweneth Travers.
Colton’s eyes cloud with confusion. “Rescued? What happened? Kenzie and Gweneth left with their mom last spring.”
Benjamin’s eyes track to the newspaper, and he swiftly flips it over, then flashes Colton a compassionate smile. “I’m not sure that’s something you need to see right now.”
Colton worries his bottom lip. “The fathers took them back, didn’t they?”
Benjamin rubs his chin like he’s weighing his words. “The girls are back with their mother now.”
Colton releases a shaky breath and glances out the window. “I remember the day they left. I wanted them to take me too.”
Though Benjamin’s sending me a warning gaze, I need to reassure Colton. “That must have been awful.”
Would Colton know who helped the girls? I bite the question back. Maybe that person will find my number scrawled underneath the sink. If I ever get a next time, I’ll tape a burner phone under there too.
“My mom.” Colton huffs, and it’s the first hint of the anger I’m sure is beneath the surface. Anger he’s going to have to deal with at some point. “She’s a believer. It doesn’t matter how mean they are, she won’t go against them.”
There’smeanand there’sabuse. Someday, when he’s ready, Colton will understand the difference, and it will rock his world. I think of my own kids learning to cope with Eliza’s abandonment, and though they’re old memories now, my chest tightens.
“Did she know you wanted to leave?” I ask Colton.
“I tried once before, but I lost the path, and they found me.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes, his cheeks turning slack, like he’s no longer with us. After a deep exhale, he wraps one arm around his middle, as if to shield himself. “I knew when I did it again, I had to do it right, because I couldn’t ever go back.”
Asking if there are other kids who would want to leave if they had a chance is tingling the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. The question is too invasive, and the distress it might cause feels too risky. I don’t want Colton to feel like he’s obligated to share. The power dynamic between us is fragile and new, and I want to be an example of an adult who prioritizes caring for him and supporting him over any kind of agenda.