Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(24)

“Telling a sixteen year old girl you expect three grandchildren is the opposite approach most parents take,” Petr points out. “You had her parents on the phone screaming at you three hours later.”

“So it wasn’t meant to be.” His father shrugs.

Absorbed in their discussion, I can’t help but grin. Their relationship is beautiful, full of humor, honesty and understanding. This is what I want everywhere in my life, with Todd, with my mother, with the man I eventually meet and date. Seeing the evidence of what I want in front of me is an eye opener. My own parents never had this kind of relationship with each other or with us kids.

It draws me towards Petr even more.

Which is bad. I can’t become emotionally entangled or lose my edge.

Reminding myself of this fact, I clear the pie away and retreat to the counter, uncertain what to say. Petr’s father leaves soon after with a wave at me. I watch him go, envious of Petr’s relationship with his father.

Petr drapes a scarf around his neck, preparing to leave.

I hesitate, my insides twisting at the thought of opening up to him, even if it’s in Todd’s best interest. I’m starting to believe I can trust Petr as far as I’m willing to.

I approach his table. “Petr, can I ask you something?” I start uncertainly. My hands are in my apron, clenched and twisting together, out of his sight.

“Of course.” He waves at the seat across from him.

Perching on the edge of the bench, ready to flee, I hesitate under his direct gaze. He’s curious, his blue eyes scouring my features. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yes. Well, no. I kind of have an issue with Todd. With your involvement with teens and … everything else, I wanted to ask your advice.” The words come out as a breathless rush. He can’t possibly know how much courage this is taking, that it’s a struggle to draw a full breath right now. I’m leaving my comfort zone. It’s for a good cause – and stressful as hell. “Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed. Having a conversation shouldn’t throw me into a near-panic attack.

“No rush. I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me for two weeks.” He smiles warmly. “I’m not about to go anywhere now.”

I clear my throat. I dismiss the words I have no idea how to handle. “Todd brought home a gun and hid it in his room. I found it by accident. It was in his Secrets Box which is … never mind. I wasn’t supposed to look and I did and I saw the gun and now, I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to confront him, because I don’t want him to hate me but …”

“It’s a serious issue,” he finishes.

I nod and release a sigh. Petr isn’t freaking out. It’s a good thing. “I hid it in my room. I don’t even know how he got a hold of it. The kid has no money of his own and he’s never out of my sight, except at school.”

Petr is listening intently. He’s hard to read right now, and I’m praying he’s not judging me for being a bad role model or something for Todd.

I wait. He appears to be choosing his response carefully or maybe thinking about what to do.

“I didn’t know who else to talk to,” I add, a little worried by his silence.

“I’m glad you think enough of me to talk about it,” he starts with a faint smile. “I think karate is the first step. I also think you need to talk to him about what’s bothering him. I don’t think his actions can be viewed in isolation. Everything is connected to a central source, an issue that’s disturbing him in a way he doesn’t know how to handle. From what I’ve seen, when kids act out, it’s because they really don’t know the right way to deal with something.”

“I know he doesn’t,” I whisper.

“Then you need to deal with the source.”

I gaze at him, heart aching for Todd’s ruined life. “I can’t, Petr.”

“Okay, Claudia.” He doesn’t seem surprised or insist I tell him what’s wrong, for which I’m grateful. “It’s much harder to curb or channel the symptoms and ignore the problem. We’ll give karate a go and, with your permission, I’ll drag him to a couple other activities. When in doubt, wear him out and give him something else to occupy his mind.”

“You don’t have to take this on yourself, Petr,” I say with more confidence. “If you want to recommend some things, I’ll make sure he goes.”

“I have sensed, and this may be wrong” he leans forward with a gentle smile “that you’re both running from something. You don’t have to tell me what or why or anything of the sort, but I recognize suffering when I see it. Mikael’s death taught me this, and I am sensitive to the pain of others. Whatever it is, this source problem, if you don’t want to entrust me with it, then at least let me help you limit it from affecting Todd.”

Speechless and horrified once more Petr can see what I want to keep hidden, I’m tempted to leave right then and there, grab Todd and move on to the next town.

But for the first time in four years, Todd is happy, and someone is offering to help us without prying too deeply into what we’re running from. My emotions are screaming while the logical side of me knows Todd deserves this chance. I definitely need the assistance in preventing him from doing something to ruin his life.