Temporary Father

She jumped at his hand instead.

He grabbed her and dropped to his knees, still hugging her. With his head close to her ear, he said it. “I set the fire.”

They all thought it was lightning from the storm that day, but Lucy knew the truth. He confessed to her at least once a day, and she loved him anyway. He only half believed she didn’t know what he was saying. Telling her made him feel better for a few minutes.

His mom thought he was upset because she’d left his father two years ago. Sure he wanted her and his dad together. Except he could do without the yelling. His dad’s yelling—and then the horrible sound of his mom whispering to his father to keep his voice down.

He couldn’t figure out why he was always madder at his mom.

Eli buried his face in Lucy’s silky ear. She nipped at his hand. She never bit—just held his fingers in her mouth. He burrowed deeper, smelling Lucy and sunshine. He didn’t want even her to see him cry.

In the darkness of her fur and his closed eyes, he saw the cigarette again, a white tube with a glowing red top. The blackened match he’d thrown in his garbage can. It must not have been out.

The night before, his mom had been ranting through a news report about kids his age smoking. Sometimes the high school kids came by the lodge and tried to buy cigs. His mother threw them out. She could guess any guy’s age.

A lot of kids smoked at the middle school. After his mom had blown up like a maniac, he’d scored one from Billy Thorpe, and then he’d tried it in his room after school.

It had made him throw up. At the time, he’d been grateful for the lightning and hail and thunder that had covered the sounds.

He’d come out of the bathroom to find his room on fire. It had to have been that match. Or the cigarette.

They said a lightning strike had set the fire, but he couldn’t remember where he’d left the cigarette.

Sometimes that night happened all over again in his mind. He rubbed his hands as flames jumped at them again. The fire had eaten his blanket when he’d tried to smother it. It had flown across the papers and books on his desk. He hadn’t been able to make it stop.

As he’d turned, flames had already started on his DVD player and his video games. Black smoke had wrapped him as fast as he could move. He’d started for the door, but pictured his mom standing out there, waiting to hate him.

He’d jumped out his window, slid across the green tin porch roof and then dropped onto the grass. Trying to hide from another clap of thunder, he’d yelled for his mother and run back inside, where Lucy was barking at the smoke that hovered, waiting to attack from the top of the stairs.

“Get out, get out,” his mom had shouted from the landing.

“I can’t.” He couldn’t leave her to fight his mess. He’d gone up and dragged her back down. They’d both hauled Lucy out by her collar.

By the time the fire trucks arrived, they’d all been covered in black soot, he and his mom hugging each other in the rain. Both crying, though she’d never cried before or since.

No one had noticed his burned hands that day. When his mom had grabbed him by both of them the next morning, he’d said he’d burned himself going back for her.

Guilt had made her face different—like she hurt. Maybe that was why something had been chewing on his guts ever since.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU ASKED AIDAN over here for hot dogs and you didn’t tell me?”

“Hold it down, Van. Eli will hear that you’re upset with me.” She laid a piece of salmon on the grill. Mrs. Carleton’s sister was still sick and Beth felt safe taking liberties with her kitchen.

“Don’t use your son to shut me up. I told you to stay away from Nikolas.”

“I didn’t say a word about a loan. You’re right. I can’t ask him for help.”

Van opened the fridge and brought back spinach and feta. “You sound upset.”

“I am.” She shrugged. “He could have been the answer to my prayers. Instead, I’m still looking.”

“Are you all talking about that guy in the cottage?”

Beth and Van turned.

“Did you meet him, too, Eli?” Van asked.

“I’ve seen him going in and out.” Eli crossed the kitchen and plucked a grape tomato off the cutting board. “I can see the cottage from my window.”

Beth passed him another tomato. “We’re supposed to leave him alone. Uncle Van says he’s here because he’s been sick and he needs quiet to get better.”

“I think you should date him, Mom.”

“Huh?” Beth turned, and the salmon she’d been in the process of flipping, splatted onto the floor.

“You should date him.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” Van said. “What are you talking about, Eli?”

“I heard you. Mom wants to talk to him. It’s time you started dating again, and if he knows you, Uncle Van, he must have the bucks.”

“Eli.” Beth bent to clean up the salmon. It slipped out of her hands. “Date him? Where’s that coming from?” Two tries later, she scooped up the fish and dropped it into the sink.

“I told ya. You need money. He has it. We’d be okay if you went out with someone like that guy.”

“We have all the bucks we need, and that’s no reason to date anyone. I don’t understand you. For the past three years, any time a guy’s looked twice at me, you’ve been upset. When those men who stayed at the lodge left a big tip behind, you thought they were trying to come on to me.”

“That was before we found out they tore the mantel off the fireplace in their room.” A shrug made him look a decade older. “You need a life, Mom. I feel like a bug under your microscope, and I’m old enough to know you should be interested in guys. I don’t expect you and Dad to get back together anymore.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to matchmake for you, Eli. You’re creeping me out.”

“Most divorced moms date. My friends’ moms do.”

“When the guy is right. And the time. I have to get us back into our own house.”

“You worry all the time.” He grabbed the plates and silver she’d stacked on the counter. “I’ll set the table.”

Stunned silence thickened in the kitchen as he rushed to the dining room. Beth turned to Van, still clutching the oily spatula. “That was too many firsts. I should date, I need a life and he’s setting the table without being asked.”

“He’s hiding something. He thinks by going after you, he can keep hiding it.” Van popped a tomato into his mouth and turned toward the dining room door. “Sucks to be Eli.”

“Wait.” She almost lost another piece of salmon. “What are you going to do?”

“Drill for the truth.”

“He’s been fragile since the fire.”