“When does Sam get out of school?” she asked abruptly.
He glanced at his watch. “In about twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t we go pick him up, feed him lunch and go shopping early?”
The smile he gave her then was well worth the gamble that a five-year-old boy would serve as a sufficient distraction—and keep her mind off pathways it most certainly should not be following.
Stefan could almost see his son’s thought process even from this distance. Sam had come out of class with a small cluster of other boys who looked about the same age, although he was a bit taller than all but one of them. Sam had been talking animatedly with the other tall classmate, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding what looked like a drawing, but when that boy had apparently spotted a parent and headed that way, Sam’s entire body language changed. He slumped slightly and trudged toward the parking lot, where he was apparently used to finding Mrs. Crane waiting.
But then Sam spotted him, and Stefan’s jaw tightened a little at the boy’s sudden wariness. Things had been better between them this morning, but apparently that had been forgotten. But then Sam spotted Daria and instantly perked up. A smile forming on his face, he picked up speed.
“Hi, Daria,” he called out.
“Sam!” She waved at the boy, and a quick glance told Stefan she was smiling widely back at him. Sam broke into a run then and skidded to a stop in front of them. “What have you got there?”
Daria’s voice was full of an interest that made the boy practically shine. “We had to draw today.”
“Was it fun?”
“Kinda.”
“May I see?”
The boy hesitated, then held out the page of rough-textured paper. Stefan looked at it over Daria’s shoulder. It was recognizably a person in black, and a brown…creature of some sort, standing atop a long, wobbly green line he presumed was supposed to be grass. In the background was a gray scribble that went up and down across the page.
“Sam,” Daria said with a wide smile, “I was expecting stick figures, but this is so much better!”
Again the boy lit up. Was it really that simple? Was genuine praise that important? He tried to remember himself at that age. Remembered the first time he’d brought home a perfect spelling test and his mom had cooed over it and made him cookies. Maybe it was that simple.
Daria pointed to the gray scribble. “Are those the mountains?”
“Yes,” Sam said, clearly excited that she’d realized this.
“You’re not used to those, are you?”
“No. Just buildings.”
“Well, you did a good job showing them. And let’s see here…” She pointed at the brown creature. “Let me guess. A dog?”
Sam was practically dancing. “Yes! Like the one I want. We watched a movie about a dog.”
Stefan looked at the picture again. Okay, mountains he could buy. And the dog. The person…it definitely wasn’t completely a stick figure—the person was a long oval with stick arms and legs. And short, straight lines of dark hair applied to the slightly crooked head, almost like a cap.
Hair that resembled, in a five-year-old way, Daria’s.
“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” she said. “It should be on display at home.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked.
“It means put up where everyone can see it.”
“Oh.”
Sam cast a doubtful eye at Stefan. That doubt stabbed at him, and it was an effort to say casually, “I think the refrigerator is the requisite location? We’ll have to pick up some magnets while we’re shopping this afternoon.”
“Shopping?” Sam asked.
“To find you some new bedroom furniture, remember?”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? All of us? Today?”
“Right now, if you’re ready.”
Sam let out an excited yelp. He was even more animated when Daria suggested a local burger joint, and it was a toss-up over whether he talked or ate more. She was so good for him.
And stop thinking she’s good for you, too.
And then Stefan found himself somewhere he’d never expected to be—a kids’ furnishings store at the south end of the shopping district downtown. They had sections labeled with signs overhead, divided by age, and they headed toward the 5–7 sign.
“Look at everything first,” Daria suggested, and Sam nodded eagerly.
The boy darted from piece to piece, first piqued by the bed designed like a race car, then to one painted like an Old West stagecoach. He reached out to touch a comforter printed with famous movie characters, then stood looking up in awe at a wall painted like space, with stars and planets over a bed that looked like a spaceship.
“I had no idea,” Stefan muttered.
Daria smiled. “I think it’s all about feeding their imagination.”
“Kind of feels like I’m trying to buy his affection.”
“No,” she said quickly. “You’re just showing him he has a place in your home. That you’re willing to make changes for him. He’s a smart kid—it won’t take long before he realizes that also means he has a place in your heart.”
He stared at her. “How did you get so wise?”
“Comes with age,” she said. “You’ll catch up.”
“You make it sound like you’re ancient.” He wasn’t sure why this bothered him, but it did.
“When I graduated high school, you were ten.”
He winced. When she put it that way… “That’s different. The maturity difference is bigger then.”
She moved then, because Sam had rounded a corner and they couldn’t see him. It seemed instinctive to her, and he wondered if it was something in the female DNA. Which brought back to mind what he’d learned from the trace she’d asked him to run on her own DNA. It had explained a lot about her, from her light brown skin to her determination.
“Ah. Here we go.” She gestured toward some shelves of bedding. “I’ll bet if you dug around in there a bit, you could find some stuff from that video game he loves.”
“That might work,” he said. He glanced past a couple standing behind Daria, who were discussing when and where to meet up later, and saw a display that looked like it had potential. He had to dig a bit, but he found a bedcover that had the characters he recognized. “We’ve gone from sleeping with the fishes to sleeping with zombies,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Same effect,” Daria retorted. “Come on, Sam’s over here, and I think he may have found the perfect bed for this.”
He glanced that direction and saw his son sitting on a twin bed. It wasn’t, Stefan saw to his relief, one of the elaborate things he’d likely have to spend days putting together. It was a bit high, but not so high it made him nervous the boy would fall out and get hurt. There were two steps attached to one end, and the entire thing was painted to look like it was built of stone.
“It’s the castle!” Sam was so excited Stefan couldn’t help smiling. “From my game!”
“So