Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(202)

As he remembered it, he was the one who’d done all of the saving. Cal’s intentions were pure, but he’d get wrapped up shooting baskets or playing softball and forget to feed the bird. And Ethan had been too young for the responsibility.

“You told Mommy Pastor Ethan is your brother.”

Gabe didn’t miss the accusing note in Edward’s voice, but he didn’t let himself rise to it. “That’s right.”

“You don’t look the same.”

“He looks like our mother. My brother Cal and I look like our father.”

“You don’t act the same.”

“People are different, even brothers.” He picked up one of the tubular lawn chairs that leaned against the back of the cottage and unfolded it.

Edward dug the heel of his sneaker into the soft earth while he let the rabbit dangle at his side. “My brother’s like me.”

Gabe looked over at him. “Your brother?”

Edward’s forehead puckered as he concentrated on his sneaker. “He’s real strong, and he can beat up about a million people. His name is . . . Strongman. He never gets sick, and he always calls me Chip, not that other name.”

“I think you’re hurting your mother’s feelings when you tell people not to call you Edward,” he said quietly.

The boy didn’t like that, and Gabe watched the play of emotions cross his face: unhappiness, doubt, stubbornness. “She’s allowed to call me that. You’re not.”

Gabe picked up the other lawn chair and unfolded it. “Keep watching just above that ridge. There’s a cave up there where a lot of bats live. You might be able to see some of them.”


Edward tucked the rabbit next to him as he sat in the other chair. His feet didn’t touch the ground, and his thin legs stuck out stiffly in front of him. Gabe felt the boy’s tension, and it bothered him to be regarded as some sort of monster.

A few minutes ticked by. Jamie, with a five-year-old’s impatience, would have jumped out of the chair after thirty seconds, but Rachel’s son sat quietly, too afraid of Gabe to rebel. Gabe hated that fear, even though he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

The fireflies came out, and the last of the evening breeze died down. The boy didn’t move. Gabe tried to think of something to say, but it was the boy who finally spoke.

“I think that’s a bat.”

“No. It’s a hawk.”

The boy drew the rabbit into his lap and poked at a tiny hole in the seam with his index finger. “My mommy’ll get mad if I stay out here too long.”

“Watch the trees.”

He stuffed the rabbit under his T-shirt and leaned back in the chair. It squeaked. He leaned forward and then back, making it squeak again. And again.

“Be quiet, Edward.”

“I’m not Ed—”

“Chip, damn it!”

The boy crossed his arms over his lumpy chest.

Gabe sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I have to pee real bad.”

Gabe gave up. “All right.”

The lawn chair tilted as the boy jumped from it.

Just then, Rachel’s voice drifted out of the back door. “Bedtime, Edward.”

Gabe turned to see her standing inside the screen silhouetted against the kitchen light. She looked slim and beautiful, at once entirely herself, but at the same time, any one of a million mothers calling a child inside on that warm July night.

His mind shifted to Cherry, and he waited for the pain to hit him, but what he felt instead was melancholy. Maybe, if he didn’t let himself think about Jamie, he might be able to live after all.

Edward ran for the back porch, and as soon as he reached his mother’s side, he grabbed her skirt. “You told me not to say curses, didn’t you, Mommy?”

“That’s right. Curses are rude.”

He glared at Gabe. “He said one. He said a curse.”

Gabe regarded him with annoyance. The little tattletale.

Rachel herded the child inside without comment.

Gabe fed the baby sparrow again, doing his best not to touch him too much as he dispensed tiny dollops of food. Too much hand-feeding would accustom the bird to human contact and turn it into a pet, making it more difficult to release the creature back to the wild.

He wanted to be certain she’d had enough time to put the boy to bed, so he cleaned up the bird’s nest by lining it with fresh tissue before he went into the living room. Through the front screen, he saw her sitting on the porch step with her arms propped on top of her bent knees. He stepped outside.

Rachel heard the screen door open behind her. The porch vibrated beneath her hips as he walked toward her. He lowered himself onto the step.

“You didn’t find anything in the Bible, did you?”

She still hadn’t managed to swallow her disappointment. “No. But a lot of text is underlined and there are marginal notes everywhere. I’m going through it page by page. I’m sure I’ll find a clue somewhere.”

“Nothing’s easy for you, is it, Rach?”

She was tired and frustrated, and the energy that had carried her through the afternoon had vanished. There had been something deeply disturbing about reading those old, familiar verses again. She could sense them pulling at her, trying to draw her back toward something she could no longer accept.