Page 77 of Jericho

Chapter 38

Aspen

Both men seemed to have given me a choice about staying or leaving, but I know better. The perception of a choice and actually having a choice aren't the same thing.

But, despite knowing that, I'm grateful they both offered, and I'm torn on why I want to be here so badly. Is it because I have no other choice? Because, honestly, there's still a house and property that would divert to me since Damien is dead unless he willed it to someone else after my father died.

Do I want to stay because I feel safe here or because I feel like this is where I belong?

Does he want me here because he wants to be a part of our lives or simply because he doesn't think I can be a good mother?

I don't focus too long on the latter because I'll only drive myself mad worrying about it. Plus, the only way to assure them I'm not a horrible person is to prove it to them.

Eli is kicking his legs forward and back as if he's the happiest, most well-adjusted kid in the world when we walk into the kitchen.

"What do you have there?" I ask, looking at his plate.

"Red food!" he says enthusiastically.

"Tomatoes," Zara corrects, making me wonder if people haven't been speaking to him at all.

How does he love a certain food and yet doesn't seem to know the name of it?

"Tomatoes," he says with a mouthful.

When he mentioned red food, I instantly thought strawberries or watermelon, concerned they wouldn't have either because they're out of season, but it looked like I had nothing to worry about. On the counter in front of him is a small bowl of what I imagine is every red food they have in the kitchen. It includes watermelon and strawberries, as well as a small bowl of what looks like beets, some raspberries, and even a tiny dish of ketchup.

"He isn't a fan of the beets," Cora says as she adds a handful of whole-grain crackers to his plate.

"I'm not a fan of those either," I tell her. "I do like these, though."

I pluck a cherry from another bowl and pop it in my mouth, chewing the sweet fruit around the pit.

I smile at Nolan when he hands me a napkin so I can dispose of the pit.

When I glance back at Eli, I notice him watching the two of us. I wonder if it's detrimental for him to see the two of us together after witnessing the death of the man he thought was his father. That isn't even something I spoke to Caitlyn about. I make a mental note to jot down a list of what I know has happened to Eli, even though I don't doubt the list of what I don't know that has happened to him would be much, much longer.

We spend most of the day in the kitchen, and breakfast transitions into lunch before Eli yawns. I don't know if seven is too old for a nap, but exhaustion is nipping at my heels as well, so I guide him from the room and back up the stairs.

"I like it here," he says with another yawn as he kicks off his shoes before climbing into the bed unprompted.

"I like it here, too," I tell him as I do the same, lying on top of the covers after he pulls them up to his chin.

"When do I leave to go back to the hole?"

My heart stops with his question.

I want to grill him, ask a million questions, and demand to know the details, but I also know that I'm not qualified to do any of that. It makes me once again feel completely helpless where he's concerned. I'm terrified of what additional damage I can cause.

"What's the hole?" I ask because I don'tnotwant to know what he's talking about.

"It's what Mr. Mean called my bedroom."

"You never have to go back to the hole," I tell him with confidence.

"I like this bedroom," he says looking at the wall with the window. "I didn't have a window in my old room."

"Would you like me to open the curtains?"

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