Page 77 of Shadow and Skulls

My chest tightens a little. She’s confused.

“He was just here a moment ago.” Her eyes wander along the moonlit creek.

“What does he look like?” my dad asks her, because he knows damn well it wasn’t my grandfather. He’s back at the entrance.

She fans her face like a schoolgirl. “Oh, he’s a big man. Handsome.” Her face begins to fall. “Wait. No, it couldn’t have been Ray. Ray has brown eyes. This man had green eyes. They glowed in the moonlight.” She glances around, looking for him.

“He said his name was … oh, I can’t remember now.” Her voice rises as she gets upset with herself for not recalling it.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, ignoring the look my father gives me. “Ray is waiting for you.” I urge my dad to his feet.

“Can he carry you?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t get scared when Dad picks her up. She’s more confused than I’ve seen her.

She nods, but she tucks the stick inside her jacket so he can’t take it away from her.

All the way back she mumbles about stars and trees. I spend the entire walk glancing behind me every few feet. The string between Tank and me is pulled taut, and my heart beats happily because of it. But when we get back to the gate, I feel it go slack. My grandfather plucks my grandmother right out of my dad’s arms as if he’s not a man in his seventies.

“Baby, where did you run off to?” He cuddles her to his chest.

For a second she pushes against him, but when their eyes meet, she relaxes and lays her head against his shoulder.

The ride back to my grandparent’s home is quiet. My dad meets my gaze from time to time in the mirror. I know he’s worried over my reaction to finding my grandmother with that stick in her hand.

My mom tries her best to lighten the mood when we get back. She helps the boys scoop out their ginormous pumpkins, joking with them. I finish carving mine as quickly as I can. I like tiny pumpkins, so it doesn’t take long. The boys didn’t disappoint in picking out the perfect one for me. It’s so round.

“Do you want to help me light it?” I ask my grandmother, itching to get her alone so I can ask her about the big man who gave her the star.

When we pass my dad and grandfather in the living room, they pause their conversation. I hate the look of sadness on their faces.

“We’ll be outside.”

Grandpa places his hands on his knees to push out of his chair, but I stop him, motioning for him to remain seated.

“I won’t leave her alone,” I promise.

I help her into a chair on the front porch before lighting my little orange pumpkin. When I lower myself to the ground in front of her, she begins to run her fingers through my hair.

“The man who gave you the star tonight, was his name Tank?” I decide to ask after several minutes.

She mumbles something about her mom, and I decide to leave it at that. I don’t want to confuse her any more than she already is. She’s calm, and I don’t want to rock the boat by upsetting her.

“Pretty hair,” she whispers, continuing to run her fingers through my locks. I close my eyes, taking a moment of gratitude for her touch. Her love.

I pull out my phone, running my finger over the screen. I’ve been trying to restrain myself from texting him so much, but I have to acknowledge what he’s done for me and my family.

Me: Thank you.

I slip my phone back in my pocket, not expecting a response, and that’s okay. I have faith he’ll read it.

My family begins to filter outside. The boys have finally finished their masterpieces. Every year they make it a competition. We laugh as they each showcase their creations, pointing out the small details.

When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I freeze.

“Look right here,” Carson tells us. “Do you know how talented you have to be with a knife to get a line like that?”

Cole snorts. “Whatever, dude. A five-year-old could make that cut.”

I yawn into my hand. “Oh gosh, I think I’m going to bed.”

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