Alexa
“Hello,” I greeted, along with a small smile to the youngest child. He hid behind his mother’s skirt and peeked with a curious stare.
“Your little brother is cute, isn’t he? How old are you?” I asked with a bright smile, patiently dealing with children.
“Are you Uncle Harlow’s friend? Is your wound healed?” Instead of answering me, the child asked back.
“Hush, don’t talk.”
The woman hurriedly placed two plastic bowls on the empty log next to me. The bowls were filled with oatmeal topped with dried raisins.
Her hands trembled, and she fidgeted, glancing at my face as if asking for my permission. She got up, bowing her head. Both her hands guided her children’s backs as they moved away from me.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Jack came over with heavy steps toward us. He addr
