Prodigal

Chapter 34-2

“Iris, language,” Harlan said, eyes twinkling.

Adam dropped his biscuit on the plate, confused thoughts tumbling through his head.

“Son, eat your soup,” Harlan said. “Having food in your belly’ll help you think of nasty things to say later.”

Iris ignored him. “How did you get here?”

“Otto kidnapped me,” Adam said, which he felt was only mildly hyperbolic. “So when you didn’t have time to talk to me, what did you do? Go to the market, make a wrong turn at the bread aisle, and fall into somebody’s bed?”

Iris stalked toward the table. “How dare you—”

Harlan stood and stepped in front of her. “Iris, before you go getting all pissed, just take a minute, process what he said, and look at the kid.”

“He’s a couple of decades past being a kid,” she said.

“Yes, he is,” Harlan agreed, and motioned her to the chair on his other side. “And you, kid, don’t you disrespect your grandmother again or I’ll show you what a real beating is. Now eat your goddamned soup.”

So Adam did, while Harlan watched and Iris stared at the table.

It felt strange, and not just because Adam was being watched. All the years he’d lived with Iris, it had only ever been the two of them at the table. Occasionally Danny and JJ ate with him, but then Iris never sat. She’d just hovered, grabbing bites at the counter while she fed them and did seven other things. He missed that, that feeling that someone was ready to swoop in as needed. Iris had done that for him. It may not have been forever, but the decade he’d spent with her was the safest he’d felt in his life.

Adam used the last bit of biscuit to clean the bottom of his bowl, wiped his face, and stared at the same spot on the table his grandmother was staring at. “Iris,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

Her stare didn’t falter.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be so pissed at me in a minute, she’ll forget all about you,” Harlan said, fixing his gaze on Iris. “Otto Nicholson called me last night. Well, he called Jim last night, looking for me. Asked if I knew anything about his daughter, Rachel.”

Now Harlan had Iris’s attention.

“I told him no, I was sorry, but that wasn’t the way it worked. Then this afternoon, when Jim came by, it was to tell me Otto was calling again. That’s why I had to go by Jim’s. Otto told me Adam came after him this morning because of some dream he’d had about Rachel.” Harlan glanced at Adam. “Neglected to mention he’d beaten the crap out of you. Anyway, when Dorothy told Otto what you’d said, she didn’t make the connection, but Otto’s got a history with these kinds of things. He put two-and-two together pretty well when he saw you and found out you’d been in the hospital.”

“What do you mean, hospital?” Iris asked.

Adam lifted his hand and slid the plastic admission cuff from beneath his sleeve.

“I mean, it’s too late,” Harlan said. He reached across the table and took Iris’s hands gently in his. “I’m sorry, darling, but he’s got a link to the girl.”

She sucked in air and tucked her lips back in her mouth so far they disappeared, not peeking out again until she exhaled. Her voice was calm, words measured as if she’d chosen each one after careful deliberation, although in the end all she did was repeat what Harlan had said. “What do you mean, he has a link to the girl?”

“I mean, he can save her.”

“No,” she said, trying to pull her hands away. The scattered wrinkles in her face deepened with the effort, but somehow she looked younger. Like a frightened adolescent. “That’s not his job.”

“Iris,” Harlan said, holding her hands firmly. “Maybe it is.”

“No! It’s not!” she yelled, slamming their hands into the table so hard a salt shaker tipped over, then yanking hers free. She knocked her chair over when she stood, screaming, “You promised me!”

“I’m sorry,” Harlan said. And he looked it. “There’s nothing I can do. And I don’t think he has a choice.”

Iris was having none of it. She retreated until her spine pushed against the window, her small form backlit by the weak sunlight. “You promised me,” she whispered.

Adam said her name—“Iris?”—but she wouldn’t look at him, just edged her way to the door.

“No,” Harlan said, when Adam would have followed her outside. “She needs time.”

Adam heard her car start. It must have been parked on the other side of the woodpile.

“She’ll be back,” Harlan said. “She hasn’t broken yet. It’ll just take a little time for her to snap back. Let’s just hope it’s not too much time.”

Harlan took a sip from his own mug, savoring it in a way that made Adam think it contained more than just coffee. The older man stared out the windows, at a view of nothing but tree trunks and the mottled shadows of their unseen canopies.

“Only a few hours of daylight left,” he observed. “Now that you’re starting to look human again, I think it’s time you told me about these dreams of yours.”