The Truth About Mallory Bain by Clare Hexom

I like to consider myself one of them.” His rounded middle shook when he chuckled.
    Caleb darted through the kitchen and down the short hallway, past the pantry to where Mom had left the plastic tubs storing his toys.
    I kicked off my shoes and sat at the breakfast bar. “How did you two meet?”
    â€œBunco. The community center hosts groups Wednesday evenings fall to spring. I normally go there, but my buddy Chuck talked me into playing at his church. They needed a fourth at their Tuesday game.” Carl grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some water from the fridge, showing me that he knew his way around Mom’s kitchen.
    â€œYour mother plays at Chuck’s table with a jumpy little woman. Ginny Hughes.”
    â€œI know her.”
    â€œSmall world. Our dads built tractors after the war for Minneapolis Moline down on Lake Street.” Carl chuckled. “Now here we are. Ginny and me playing Bunco, and Diane and me ‘best friends.’” He took a long drink of water and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
    My mom had a boyfriend. A spreading blush warmed my cheeks and ears, down my neck. No doubt he figured I guessed their relationship well exceeded friendship. She would never stop loving Daddy, and Carl looked likeable enough.
    Having friends filled a void. Before meeting Carl, I detected loneliness in her voice whenever I phoned. There is a monotony to living alone. Each day blends into the next, same as the day before. Although daylight is shorter, the days feel longer during winter, when Minnesota’s weather turns blustery and glacially cold. Holing up indoors is better than chancing a bone-breaking slip on the ice.
    Mom didn’t even have a pet for companionship. Unlike Judith, who cares for a menagerie of cats and dogs, one or two of which she parades at shows, Mom bans animals from the house. My father longed for a dog when he was alive.
    Love of dogs was another point of agreement between Judith and my dad.
    Mom strolled into the kitchen full of smiles. Her eyes danced like those of a bashful teen greeting her first boyfriend for theirfirst date. Carl beamed likewise. He gave her a sideways hug and modest kiss on the cheek.
    They said their goodbyes and without hesitation reminded me, “Don’t bother waiting up.” They scurried outside, and seconds later, I heard a mechanical purr as Carl’s van rolled down the driveway.
    I loaded the few dishes piled in the sink into the dishwasher before helping Caleb herd his dinosaurs into the bathtub with him. I read his requested “umpteen-zillion” bedtime stories.
    After he fell asleep, I retreated to my own bed with the thick novel I’d bought during summer but put off reading. After reading the dustcover to gain a sense of the plot and the characters I’d soon meet, I nestled deeper into the stack of comfy pillows, hoping to be captivated for an hour or more.
    Well into chapter four, a cool breeze caressed my face. I glanced around but saw nothing peculiar. I no sooner returned to my reading when a gentle wind blew over me and lifted my hair off my shoulders.
    The room filled with terrible coldness. Shivers shook the book in my hands. I tossed it aside and jumped out of bed expecting to find an open window. Closed and locked tight. I passed through the bathroom to check on Caleb. He’d thrown off his covers, the way he often does, and laid curled up like a lump of blue cotton.
    Both of his windows were closed and locked, too, but Edgar the T-Rex, looking forlorn and lonely, lay on the floor beneath the window across from Caleb’s bed. I picked him up and laid him beside my son. When I stepped back, Caleb sputtered. In the glow of the nightlight, I saw an innocent peacefulness on his sweet Ben-like face. His contentment gave me reason to smile and be at peace.
    He was safe here.
    Chad had moved out days before Christmas and spent the holidays visiting his family. We weren’t