thumping the back of my seat with his shoe.
âI told you itâs because he wonât be here until the end of next month. Even when he does get here, youâll meet with him in Mrs. Fentonâs office at first. It will take a while before the two of you can go off and do things on your own.â
âBut why not? I donâtââ
âBobby! Quit kicking the seat!â I shouted.
The kicking stopped, but when I looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror, I saw his eyes filled with tears. I shouldnât have yelled, but Iâd had about all I could take.
How could I explain to my barely seven-year-old son that if I had my way, Hodge would never see him without supervision? Bobby didnât understand why I was so on edge. It must be so confusing for him. It was confusing for me too.
âIâm sorry, sweetie. I didnât mean to yell. Just please donât kick the back of my seat anymore, okay?â
âOkay,â he said glumly. âBut I wish he was coming home now . I want him to be my partner in the bowling tournament. The tournament is only a couple of months away. We have to start practicing now!â
âI can be your partner if you want.â
âItâs Boysâ Brigade! Only boys are allowed!â
I turned the car into the Kellehersâ driveway. âOkay, okay! I was just trying to help,â I said, and then muttered under my breath, âI am so ready for a night without kids.â
I pulled up under a tree near the front of the house and put the car in park. Normally, Drew hears my car in the driveway and comes out of the house on his own. A minute passed with no sign of him. I was just about to get out of the car and go knock on the door when Drewâs father, Dan, came outside.
âDrewâs running a little bit late,â he said, leaning down and looking through the driverâs side window. âBut he should be back in a minute. Want to come inside and wait?â
âThatâs all right,â I said. âHow long do you think heâll be?â
âNot long. I loaned my rototiller to the neighbor and he drove the truck over there to pick it up. Should be back any second. You sure you donât want to come in?â
I shook my head. âThatâs all right. Weâre fine out here.â
Dan seems like a nice enough guy, nice looking too. Good hair, a little long, but I like that. I say hello if I see him around town, and I give him a wave whenever I pick Drew up for babysitting, but weâd never had a real conversation. Iâd feel awkward sitting in his living room, trying to think of things to say while I waited for Drew to show up. Iâm lousy at small talk.
Having refused his invitation twice, I figured Dan would go back in the house. Instead, he stayed where he was, leaning down to my window but leaving one hand resting on the roof of the car, smiling at us. He had big arms. Not beefy, not like one of those guys who spent all their spare time working out, but he was muscular, wide at the shoulders, like somebody who spent his time working outside, doing physical labor, which was exactly what he did. He was one of the best landscapers in the county. Even if I hadnât known that already, I might have guessed it by looking at his yard. It was beautiful; the grass was green and lush. And even now when the leaves on the trees were slow to emerge and the flowers were only just beginning to bud, his planters looked beautiful, as if heâd worked out a plan so they would look good at any time of year, summer or winter. Maybe he had.
Anyway, it was awkward to have him standing there by my car, smiling through the open window but saying nothing. I wanted to tell him that he didnât have to entertain us and could go back inside, but I figured that might sound rude, so I just sat there trying to think of something I could say. He beat me to it.
âYou must be Bobby,â he said
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