Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary

“Not really.”

“A little?”

The boy shrugged.

“It bothers me a little,” Decker said.

Sammy didn’t answer.

“You can’t help who you fall in love with. And I’m thrilled to be in love with your mother. But sometimes our age difference bothers me. Especially since Eema doesn’t seem to be aging at the same rate I am.” Decker shifted his weight. “The difference is sometimes pretty noticeable. And I could see where that might embarrass you—”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Sammy retorted.

“Good.” Decker hesitated. “I can’t say that I’m honestly not a little bit embarrassed by it sometimes. I get a lot of ribbing at the station house.”

Sammy cocked his head. “They tease you?”

“It’s good-natured.”

“Marge teases you?”

“No, not Marge. She’s decent about things like that.”

“But it bothers you when the others do it?”

“Sometimes it does. As a matter of fact, I think it bothers your mother, too. She blushes a little every time someone mistakes her for my daughter instead of my wife.”

And blushes a lot when someone mistakes her for Cindy’s girlfriend. God, was that horrible. All three of them had felt like sinking into the ground. The look on Cindy’s face. Not a damn thing he could have done to fix it, but that hadn’t made it any easier.

“But like I said,” Decker continued, “she looks young. And I look my age and then some. It’s a natural error.”

“Would you like it better if she was older like you? I mean not old, but closer to your age?”

“I like Eema just the way she is. And I’m glad she was young when she had you and Jakey because young mothers have a lot of energy. Sometimes, I wish I were a little younger so I’d have more energy.”

“You have energy.”

“Not too bad for an old guy.”

“You’re not that old, Peter. You know, most of the kids in my class have dads around your age. Eema was just really young. Both of them were … Eema and … you know, Abba was young, too … when I was born.”

Decker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you wish I was as young as your abba?”

“No, no, no. Not at all. I didn’t mean that.”

But the boy’s voice was cracking and it wasn’t from hormones. The pain was palpable.

Decker said, “You know what I wish, Sammy?”

Sammy didn’t answer.

“I wish …” Decker took his stepson’s hand. “I wish that you were having this discussion with your abba right now. I swear to God, I wish that he was here instead of me.”

Sammy broke into tears, folding against Decker’s chest. Holding him tightly, Decker let him cry it out. The boy was developing into adolescence, a decent layer of muscle enveloping his shoulders and arms. Yet, sobbing so bitterly, he seemed so frail.

“I can’t remember him so well anymore, Peter. I try and try, but every day the memories just get more and more … cloudy. I remember things I did with you, but I can’t remember the things we used to do together.” The boy broke away, dried his red eyes on his pajama sleeves. “Sometimes … sometimes … you know? I think I remember things.” He sniffed and dried his eyes again. “I think I remember them very clearly. But then I’m not sure if I remember them because I heard Eema talk about it. Or I actually remember it ’cause it happened. And I feel terrible about it ’cause there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s only four years ago. God, at this rate, I won’t remember anything by the time I’m twenty.”

“Sure you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

Okay, Decker, just back it up. “You were young when he died.” Too young. Way too young. “Sammy, what do you think about this? Why don’t you write down whatever you do remember about your abba and show it to your mother. See if she remembers it the same way you do.”

“That would upset her too much.”

“No, I don’t think it would.”

“Yes, it would. I know it would, Peter.”

Decker felt relief. It was good to see the kid arguing with him. There was nothing as scary as a preteen with no spunk.

“Well, write it down anyway and show it to me. And if I think the timing’s okay, I’ll show it to her. How about that?”

Sammy shrugged.

“Up to you, kiddo.” Decker looked down at his partially consumed lunch. His stomach was churning, his shoulder was throbbing, and he felt a headache coming on. He fished a couple of Ecotrin from his pocket and swallowed them dry. “Just think about it.”

“Okay.” Sammy paused. “It wouldn’t bother you? I mean for me to … you know, talk about my abba?”

Truth be told, it did bother him and he felt petty because of it. But he was mature enough not to let his smallness get in the way of his stepson’s well-being.

“Sammy, you and your brother talk about your abba all you want. As a matter of fact, I’d like to learn about your abba, too. But sometimes I feel funny asking your mom about him.”

“I could understand that.”

Decker nodded in agreement. Father-son bonding. All right!

“You know what, Peter?”

“What, big guy?”

“I feel sort of guilty that I don’t call you Dad.”

Oh, boy. “Do you want to call me Dad?”

“Kind of. But it doesn’t … you know, come easy. Not that I don’t think of you as my dad. I want you to know that.”

“Whoa, you are really going through a lot of changes.”