What Happened to the Bennetts(41)

“Buddy, you don’t like the pancakes?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“The first one sucked, then I got my groove, right?”

“They’re fine.”

“How you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I’m just tired.”

I felt pained for him. “No, you’re sad, and I know that. I’m sad, too. This is a hard time. It’s okay to be sad, like we said.”

“I’m not sad, I’m tired.”

I eyed him, suddenly not knowing how to talk to him, draw him out, or even wake him up. Every instinct told me to get him outside. It was in my DNA.

There’s nothing fresh air can’t cure, my father used to say.

I knew it wasn’t that easy, but my deepest fear was that Ethan would spiral down, become depressed, even think of suicide. I read those headlines, and so did Lucinda. “Ethan, how about we go for a walk? You haven’t seen the beach yet. We can walk on the beach. Have it all to ourselves.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Remember our hikes, in Sedona? They were great.”

“Yeah.”

I remembered our last family vacation, three years ago. The dry, hard flatness of Arizona felt completely different than Pennsylvania, but I took to the desert right away. I loved the dark orange of the craggy rocks, striated with veins of gold, amber, and the richest red. Green underbrush sprouted from crevices, with prickly pear cactus and vegetation I had never seen. One morning, Ethan and I followed a trail until it wound uphill, but he had stopped, worried.

Dad, we should turn around. It’s too high.

We can do it.

Ethan hesitated. You go first.

No, you go first, and I’ll back you up.

I’m not Allison, Dad.

You can do it. You’re stronger than you think. Go on.

Ethan turned away, heading up the rock. I watched him climb, and when he reached the top, he threw his hands in the air and hooted with joy. I’d been so proud of him, and he’d been proud of himself. He was the kind of kid who needed a push to fly.

I got up, went over, and touched his shoulder, knobby under my palm. “Ethan, let’s go out. If not for a walk, then in the backyard.”

“No, I said I’m tired.”

“Do it for me. We have to make sure Moonie goes to the bathroom. The dog poops inside because we’re not out enough.”

“That’s not why.”

“Humor me.” I lifted him out of the chair, which he allowed, pressing the chair away noisily. “Come on.”

Ethan moaned, and I steered him to the back, with Moonie trotting behind. I opened the screen door and we went out together onto the deck. The sun had dipped behind the trees, making fiery crowns of their jagged peaks. The air had its characteristic organic smell, and seagulls called overhead. I scanned the sky for a heron or something interesting to point out to Ethan, but didn’t see one.

“Dad, it’s too hot for a walk.”

“It’s not that hot,” I said, though it was humid.

“I’m barefoot.”

“Where are your sneakers?”

“I think upstairs.”

I hid my dismay, and Ethan pointed to Moonie, who was running toward the fence, barking. “Dad, is that the FBI guy?”

I looked over to see Wiki approaching the fence. He waved to us, and I waved back. “Yes.”

“What’s he doing there?”

“Keeping an eye out.”

“For us?”

“Yes. He’s a nice guy. Let’s say hi.” I had been trying to put Ethan and Wiki together all week. I started Ethan down the stairs. “He’s the one that wants to play videogames with you.”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Buddy, these men are keeping us safe. You can say thank you.” I shot him a look as we reached the ground. Wiki was already coming through the gate, his glasses slipping down his nose and sandy brown hair damp. He lumbered toward us in a navy blue polo shirt and khakis, tugging his shirt away from his trunk. It struck me that he was hiding the outline of his gun.

“Hey, guys.” Wiki grinned in his easy way, gesturing at Ethan’s Call of Duty T-shirt. “Cool shirt. I have the same one. I’ve been hoping to run into you guys. I have something to show Ethan.”

“Terrific.” I smiled. “Thanks for keeping us safe.”

“Yes, thanks,” Ethan said after a moment.

“Not a problem. Wanna see something cool?” Wiki dug into his pocket and pulled out a small white object shaped like a thick tooth, vaguely whitish and chalky. “It’s belemnite, a fossil. It’s a cephalopod, related to the squid.”

Ethan looked, but didn’t reply.

“Wow,” I said, though I forgot what a cephalopod was. “Did you find it around here?”

“No, but it’s native. I brought it from home to show Ethan. I knew I’d run into him sooner or later.” Wiki turned to him. “I told your father, I grew up here. In school we used to go to the Mount Laurel Formation along the canal. We would find plenty of them.”

I glanced at Ethan for a reaction, but he was looking at Moonie, digging in the far corner of the yard. I asked Wiki, “How old is it?”

“It’s from the Triassic.”