and weary looking, introspective, and when he spoke, the defeat in his tone made Gypsy wish she had never pursued this line.
“I can see you won’t give up until you know. After… When I was left… alone… I tried to look after Kevin myself. I felt no one else was able to do it better. I made it for a few months and then I was… I had to be away from him for nearly half a year. Lorraine stepped into the breach and took over Kevin’s care. No, Gypsy, she isn’t the one who’s made him afraid of me. I did that myself, or so I’m told. I remember very little of it. I had a breakdown after I came very close to killing my son.”
He was pale as he said those last, devastating words and he licked his lips as if intending to go on, but suddenly bolted from the porch and strode away into the dark night leaving Gypsy to stare after him with unexpected tears burning in the backs of her eyes.
It was not until she was nearly asleep his words, “or so I’m told”, came back to her. Who had told him? Lorraine? Oh, Gypsy. Stop it. What’s made you so suspicious of this Lorraine person all of a sudden?
Chapter Four
Gypsy lay restlessly in her bed going over and over what he had said, what she had said, until it was all mixed up, so confusing she was forced to clear in all from her mind and begin again… And again.
The rain drizzled intermittently, pattering hard on the shake roof for a few moments, then slackening before deciding to renew its fury and rattle at the windows. The solution to the problem must be for Lance to relax with Kevin and for Kevin to learn that his father was not a bogey-man at all, but a human being with needs is great as anyone.
She viewed the problem as that of a high wall surrounding Lance, with Kevin on the outside, needing entry and unable to find the gate. Gypsy believed she had found the gate, but what she lacked was the key. Lance was unable, or unwilling to give it to her so she could admit Kevin. The wall was too high to surmount. If Lance had shown some willingness to try, together the three of them might have boosted Kevin over it… But he was too willing to give up. He seemed not to have the heart to try.
She heard Lance creep into the cabin and knew an odd relief that he was home. When his breathing became slow and measured, she turned on her side and slept uneasily until Kevin’s gentle awakening sounds alerted her.
Lance seemed strangely more considerate of Gypsy as they prepared breakfast together, and he kept watching her, a question in his eyes, but when the meal was over, he slipped on his waterproof jacket, pulled up the hood and gathered together his sketching material.
“How can you work in this rain?” Gypsy asked. “Don’t your sketches get wet?”
He favored her with a somewhat strained attempt at a smile. “Days like this I rely mostly on my camera. There are also places in the cliffs on the west side. Overhangs. There’ll be birds driven in from the sea by the storm and I don’t want to miss the opportunity of seeing them, capturing them”—he patted the pocket where he’d stuffed a small but expensive looking digital camera—“for later use.”
When he has gone, Gypsy turned to Kevin, who looked as cheerful as the scene outdoors. “So, what will we do today?”
He shrugged and dug his spoon listlessly into his cereal. “I don’t like powdered milk.”
“Would a little more sugar help?”
That earned her a glimmer of a smile. “Maybe.” It seemed to, for he ate all his cereal then an apple before he descended again into his glum mood.
“We’ll have to think of something fun to do. We can’t just sit here like storm-clouds hanging around mountain-tops all day,” Gypsy chided him. When he just looked sadder, she said, “I know! We’ll have a picnic.”
Kevin frowned at her stupid idea. “We can’t,” he sniffed. “It’s raining.”
“So?” Gypsy raised her eyebrows waggle them until he lost his dour look and giggled. “That
“I can see you won’t give up until you know. After… When I was left… alone… I tried to look after Kevin myself. I felt no one else was able to do it better. I made it for a few months and then I was… I had to be away from him for nearly half a year. Lorraine stepped into the breach and took over Kevin’s care. No, Gypsy, she isn’t the one who’s made him afraid of me. I did that myself, or so I’m told. I remember very little of it. I had a breakdown after I came very close to killing my son.”
He was pale as he said those last, devastating words and he licked his lips as if intending to go on, but suddenly bolted from the porch and strode away into the dark night leaving Gypsy to stare after him with unexpected tears burning in the backs of her eyes.
It was not until she was nearly asleep his words, “or so I’m told”, came back to her. Who had told him? Lorraine? Oh, Gypsy. Stop it. What’s made you so suspicious of this Lorraine person all of a sudden?
Chapter Four
Gypsy lay restlessly in her bed going over and over what he had said, what she had said, until it was all mixed up, so confusing she was forced to clear in all from her mind and begin again… And again.
The rain drizzled intermittently, pattering hard on the shake roof for a few moments, then slackening before deciding to renew its fury and rattle at the windows. The solution to the problem must be for Lance to relax with Kevin and for Kevin to learn that his father was not a bogey-man at all, but a human being with needs is great as anyone.
She viewed the problem as that of a high wall surrounding Lance, with Kevin on the outside, needing entry and unable to find the gate. Gypsy believed she had found the gate, but what she lacked was the key. Lance was unable, or unwilling to give it to her so she could admit Kevin. The wall was too high to surmount. If Lance had shown some willingness to try, together the three of them might have boosted Kevin over it… But he was too willing to give up. He seemed not to have the heart to try.
She heard Lance creep into the cabin and knew an odd relief that he was home. When his breathing became slow and measured, she turned on her side and slept uneasily until Kevin’s gentle awakening sounds alerted her.
Lance seemed strangely more considerate of Gypsy as they prepared breakfast together, and he kept watching her, a question in his eyes, but when the meal was over, he slipped on his waterproof jacket, pulled up the hood and gathered together his sketching material.
“How can you work in this rain?” Gypsy asked. “Don’t your sketches get wet?”
He favored her with a somewhat strained attempt at a smile. “Days like this I rely mostly on my camera. There are also places in the cliffs on the west side. Overhangs. There’ll be birds driven in from the sea by the storm and I don’t want to miss the opportunity of seeing them, capturing them”—he patted the pocket where he’d stuffed a small but expensive looking digital camera—“for later use.”
When he has gone, Gypsy turned to Kevin, who looked as cheerful as the scene outdoors. “So, what will we do today?”
He shrugged and dug his spoon listlessly into his cereal. “I don’t like powdered milk.”
“Would a little more sugar help?”
That earned her a glimmer of a smile. “Maybe.” It seemed to, for he ate all his cereal then an apple before he descended again into his glum mood.
“We’ll have to think of something fun to do. We can’t just sit here like storm-clouds hanging around mountain-tops all day,” Gypsy chided him. When he just looked sadder, she said, “I know! We’ll have a picnic.”
Kevin frowned at her stupid idea. “We can’t,” he sniffed. “It’s raining.”
“So?” Gypsy raised her eyebrows waggle them until he lost his dour look and giggled. “That
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