Page 39 of Fearless

“You gonna get your own place? Or have I got to put you up from now on?”

“Ghost,” Maggie said. “Don’t.”

“He’s going to get an apartment, Dad,” Ava said in an exhausted voice.

“Is that true?” Ghost asked Ronnie.

“Don’t torture the boy,” Maggie said, turning her back on the situation and going to the fridge for a fresh cantaloupe.

She could no longer see Ronnie’s bulging eyes and quivering lips, but could envision them as she heard the tremors in his voice.

“I – I’ve got two places to go look at today. Believe me, sir, I don’t mean at all to overstay my welcome.”

In a mock-affronted voice, Ghost said, “ ‘Believe’ you? Is there something wrong with my couch?”

“No, sir. I just meant that – that I didn’t want to…to infringe. I mean…I don’t want to bother you–”

“You think I don’t know what ‘infringe’ means?”

“Dad!” and “Ghost!” Ava and Maggie said together.

“What? I can ask questions in my own house,” he grumbled.

“Ronnie’s a responsible young man,” Maggie said as she sliced into the cantaloupe. “He’s not planning on living on our couch long term. Are ya, Ronnie?”

“N-no, ma’am.”

Maggie bit down hard on her tongue as she pulled down a serving platter, her back still to the crew at the table. Ronnie. Oh, Ronnie, you don’t have a prayer. Ava had grown up with decisive, unshrinking men, not stuttering yuppies.

“What’s for breakfast?” Ghost asked. “I smell something burned.”

“How sweet, baby.” Maggie plated the sliced cantaloupe and went to the pantry for the box of Cheerios.

“Well, I smell it.”

“I burned the oatmeal,” Ava said in a miserable voice. “I’m just never going to be any good at this cooking thing.”

“Here.” Maggie set the cereal, three bowls, and the cantaloupe on the table. “We’ll have to make do.”

Ghost reached for the Cheerios and his quick, disgruntled glance told her his mood this morning had nothing to do with breakfast, and everything to do with Ava’s boyfriend: an annoyance dumped onto his pile of annoyances.

Maggie gave him a quick tight smile that saidstop worrying about that, and passed out the bowls. “Ava, when do you need to leave this morning?”

Ava glanced up at the wall clock and gasped. “In forty-five minutes! Oh, shit.” She bolted up from her chair, hair trailing behind her as she whipped around and headed for the hall.

“At least eat something,” Maggie said.

“No time!”

In her absence, Ghost and Ronnie regarded one another with contempt on one side, terror on the other.

“Right, then,” Maggie said, sliding out her chair. “Some weather we’re having, huh?”

**

Mercy dreamed of the swamp. Its mists and vapors, its brackish glass-topped water splitting against the prow of the bateau.

He sat at the outboard, steering, the motor a low purr echoing off the surface. Ava sat in the bow, her legs drawn up beneath her, her dark hair glimmering in the hazy sunlight as she watched the bayou slide past from behind the lenses of her sunglasses. She wore cutoffs and a white tank top, her limbs sun-bronzed. Her small elegant feet were bare, resting against the bottom of the bateau; he could see the navy nail polish on her toes.

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