Chapter One - The Unwanted Guest
Spark was gone, but the memory of him lingered. And what happened to that mouse would never happen again. At least that’s what Riley Rowan told himself. To be sure, he shoved a box under his bed, then kicked it with his foot. He curled up in an egg-shaped chair, grabbed a wad of blanket, and pulled it to his chest. When he cracked open the cover of a new book, a breeze floated into his room, lifting a curtain that drifted over him, sending spider-like tingles under his skin. He leaped out of the chair and looked behind him. Raking his fingers over his neck, he pushed the curtain aside to scan the barren gray wall. Why doesn’t the Wart paint the walls with more color?
The Wart was his Uncle Walt—a stubborn, retired veteran, married to Riley’s only aunt. She was cooking when the smell of sizzling bacon drifted into Riley's room, carrying the rise of voices with it. He leaned his head to listen.
“He's a waste of the skin he's in, I tell you, Emma. The boy just isn't right."
“He's a good boy, Walt. I told you it would take time for him to adjust."
Riley tiptoed down the hall, then pressed his shoulder to the wall, and peered through a crack.
"Adjust to what? Free food and a bed to sleep in at night."
“Can you talk any louder?”
"I don't care if he hears me. He embarrasses me. He's eleven years old and outside talking to animals as if they can actually understand him."
Meeting him at the scrimmage line, Aunt Emma began scrambling eggs at warp speed. “He’s twelve years old, and for goodness sake, he hasn't made any friends yet. At least he's talking to someone."
”Emma, listen to me, please. Last night, I overheard the boy talking to a fly. An insect, Emma!”
She harpooned him with a warning glare. “The boy has a name.”
“Yes, I know. I know that he does. But so does the fly!”
Emma's egg-scrambling slowed to a swirl. Her grin softened, warm enough to make Riley feel something, but he wasn’t sure what.
“I can picture that,” she said. “Riley, talking to a fly on the sill. He’s just darling.”
Riley half-smiled, but when she shifted to the stove and began flipping bacon, one by one, a stillness blanketed over her eyes. “At least he feels connected to someone,” she muttered.
Walter's arm dropped to the table. “All the rodent traps I’ve set are gone. Every last one of them.”
Riley's gaze slid toward his bedroom.
“They just disappeared. Don’t you think that’s mysterious? Or do you think the mice and the squirrels have moving trucks and are carrying them away? It’s the boy. He’s stealing my traps.”
Emma froze. “You know what? Now that I think of it, I am missing a plate. You don’t suppose they took that too, do you?” She turned back and grinned.
“You know what, Emma? You don't listen to me. Come over here and sit down.” Walter pushed a chair with his foot, scraping the floor.
Her eyes widened, then blinked slowly as if honey was holding them back. While gripping the handle of her black iron skillet, she gazed at the back of his head.
Riley’s eyes widened. But then Aunt Emma covered her mouth and giggled. Her eyes were bright with some private joke. Riley smirked, then watched as she curled her hair behind her ear and eagerly rummaged through her purse.
“Where is my little notebook?” she muttered with a grin. Then she scribbled something on it, giggling while she did it.
“Emma?” Walter called. “Emma!”
“What? What?”
“Where did you go? I'm talking to you here.”
“Good Lord, Walter, I’m right here. What could you possibly need?”
“A fly swatter.”
Her grin morphed into a groan. She slapped her pen down, walked over, and gripped the table's edges. “He’s struggling, Walter. For heaven's sake, he probably feels guilty for even being alive.” Her brows lowered. “I wish so much Jesse hadn’t driven in the snow that day. I can’t imagine losing a mom and sister at the same time.” She looked harder at Walter. “His whole family, Walter. Just…gone. Don’t you understand?”
Riley clenched, trapping his breath inside.
“He lost family?” Walter growled. “I lost my son in the war! Afghanistan! Don’t you underst…?”
“No, Walter, we lost our son. Don’t you think I know that? But that was years ago, and this isn’t about us. It’s about him. He has no one left but us. He needs to feel like he belongs here.”
“I should think my food would be enough.”
“Our food, and stop. If he wants to play with animals, let him play. We should be glad he got out of that car alive.” She sighed. “I’ll never understand why Willow wasn’t wearing her seat belt. Jesse always made sure both kids were buckled in. She loved them so much.”
Riley’s eyes reddened. He swallowed hard, wishing they would just shut up. He wanted to run to his room, but his legs wouldn’t move.
“Besides, I think it’s nice having someone around,” she said. Her gaze seemed to drift. “Thank goodness Riley was wearing his belt.”
“Yes. Thank goodness,” he replied.
Walter glanced out the kitchen window. A dazed look crossed his face—surprised to see a squirrel shaking a fist at him. His eyes narrowed as the squirrel made a ‘V’ with its paw, pointed at his own eyes, then at Walter's. Walter gasped. His lips tightened.
Riley craned his neck to see. His gaze bounced between the squirrel and the Wart.
“Walter? Did you hear what I said?” Emma asked. She leaned her head toward his.
His brows lifted as he pointed at the window. “There’s a squirrel outside wearing pants, Emma.”
“You're not listening to me.”
His head bobbed. “But Emma… It’s pointing a finger…”
“Squirrels don’t have fingers, Walter. You’re not listening.”
“Oh COME ON! It’s wiggling its tail at me now. That feels very intentional.”
“Walter, it would be nice if Riley felt like he belonged here. He needs a man to look up to.” Her hand pressed against her chest. “I still can’t believe his father. You would think, at a minimum, he would come back at a time like this.”
Walter leaned back in his chair. “Well, maybe his father had a crystal ball and saw his son talking to insects in the future.”
Riley gasped.
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