Colton's Secret Investigation

“Sam,” Daria said with a wide smile, “I was expecting stick figures, but this is so much better!”

Again the boy lit up. Was it really that simple? Was genuine praise that important? He tried to remember himself at that age. Remembered the first time he’d brought home a perfect spelling test and his mom had cooed over it and made him cookies. Maybe it was that simple.

Daria pointed to the gray scribble. “Are those the mountains?”

“Yes,” Sam said, clearly excited that she’d realized this.

“You’re not used to those, are you?”

“No. Just buildings.”

“Well, you did a good job showing them. And let’s see here…” She pointed at the brown creature. “Let me guess. A dog?”

Sam was practically dancing. “Yes! Like the one I want. We watched a movie about a dog.”

Stefan looked at the picture again. Okay, mountains he could buy. And the dog. The person…it definitely wasn’t completely a stick figure—the person was a long oval with stick arms and legs. And short, straight lines of dark hair applied to the slightly crooked head, almost like a cap.

Hair that resembled, in a five-year-old way, Daria’s.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” she said. “It should be on display at home.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“It means put up where everyone can see it.”

“Oh.”

Sam cast a doubtful eye at Stefan. That doubt stabbed at him, and it was an effort to say casually, “I think the refrigerator is the requisite location? We’ll have to pick up some magnets while we’re shopping this afternoon.”

“Shopping?” Sam asked.

“To find you some new bedroom furniture, remember?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? All of us? Today?”

“Right now, if you’re ready.”

Sam let out an excited yelp. He was even more animated when Daria suggested a local burger joint, and it was a toss-up over whether he talked or ate more. She was so good for him.

And stop thinking she’s good for you, too.

And then Stefan found himself somewhere he’d never expected to be—a kids’ furnishings store at the south end of the shopping district downtown. They had sections labeled with signs overhead, divided by age, and they headed toward the 5–7 sign.

“Look at everything first,” Daria suggested, and Sam nodded eagerly.

The boy darted from piece to piece, first piqued by the bed designed like a race car, then to one painted like an Old West stagecoach. He reached out to touch a comforter printed with famous movie characters, then stood looking up in awe at a wall painted like space, with stars and planets over a bed that looked like a spaceship.

“I had no idea,” Stefan muttered.

Daria smiled. “I think it’s all about feeding their imagination.”

“Kind of feels like I’m trying to buy his affection.”

“No,” she said quickly. “You’re just showing him he has a place in your home. That you’re willing to make changes for him. He’s a smart kid—it won’t take long before he realizes that also means he has a place in your heart.”

He stared at her. “How did you get so wise?”

“Comes with age,” she said. “You’ll catch up.”

“You make it sound like you’re ancient.” He wasn’t sure why this bothered him, but it did.

“When I graduated high school, you were ten.”

He winced. When she put it that way… “That’s different. The maturity difference is bigger then.”

She moved then, because Sam had rounded a corner and they couldn’t see him. It seemed instinctive to her, and he wondered if it was something in the female DNA. Which brought back to mind what he’d learned from the trace she’d asked him to run on her own DNA. It had explained a lot about her, from her light brown skin to her determination.

“Ah. Here we go.” She gestured toward some shelves of bedding. “I’ll bet if you dug around in there a bit, you could find some stuff from that video game he loves.”

“That might work,” he said. He glanced past a couple standing behind Daria, who were discussing when and where to meet up later, and saw a display that looked like it had potential. He had to dig a bit, but he found a bedcover that had the characters he recognized. “We’ve gone from sleeping with the fishes to sleeping with zombies,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Same effect,” Daria retorted. “Come on, Sam’s over here, and I think he may have found the perfect bed for this.”

He glanced that direction and saw his son sitting on a twin bed. It wasn’t, Stefan saw to his relief, one of the elaborate things he’d likely have to spend days putting together. It was a bit high, but not so high it made him nervous the boy would fall out and get hurt. There were two steps attached to one end, and the entire thing was painted to look like it was built of stone.

“It’s the castle!” Sam was so excited Stefan couldn’t help smiling. “From my game!”

“So it is,” Stefan said. Then he tossed what he’d found to his son. “Which means this should go with it.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he recognized his zombies. “Wow!”

“And look who’s in the middle,” Daria urged. “In the picture on the other side.”

The boy turned the plastic-wrapped cover over. “It’s the dragon!” He could hardly contain himself now.

“So is this it? What you want?” Stefan asked. “No changing your mind later,” he added.

“Well, maybe when he’s twenty,” Daria said teasingly. The boy laughed, as if the idea of being that old was ludicrous.

Twenty. For a moment Stefan just stared at his son, tried to picture him at that age. You’re still surprised by him at five. Twenty’s beyond your imagination.

Sam shifted his gaze. Gave his father a look that seemed equal parts hope and doubt. “Did you mean it? I can have this in that room?”

That room. Not my room. Daria had been right.

“It’s your room now, Sam,” he said quietly. “So yes, you can have this in your room.”

After a moment, when Sam didn’t speak, Daria said, “I’m sure your room would have been ready if your dad had known sooner you were coming.” She gave Sam a wide-eyed look. “But who knows what he would have picked out? Maybe something really babyish, because he remembers when you were a baby.”

Sam looked horrified. “No! I want this.”

They ended up buying the bed, a shelf that could be hung off the end to make a night table, a small dresser and a couple of pictures for the walls. And, when Daria pointed out—tactfully—that as tall as Sam was for his age, he couldn’t reach clothes hanging in the closet, they added a clever setup that hung a lower pole from the upper one, right at Sam’s height.

Stefan managed not to wince when the clerk rang up the total. But Sam was quite disappointed when he realized they couldn’t take it all with them, and that the furniture and some of the other items would have to be delivered in a few days.

“It won’t all fit in the car, plus we have to get the other stuff out of there,” Stefan explained, “so there’s room for your stuff.”

“Oh,” the boy said. Then, warily again, “Are you mad?”

Stefan blinked. “About what, son?”

“Your stuff.”

For a moment Stefan couldn’t think of what to say. So he tried to imagine what Daria would say. And running on that impulse, he reached out and ran a hand over the boy’s soft, short curls. “You’re worth a lot more to me than any amount of stuff.”

Sam stared at him as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. They were on their way back to the car when Daria’s phone rang. She answered as Stefan got Sam in and situated in the booster seat. The boy didn’t like it, and Stefan understood; he was tall enough it seemed extraneous. But it was the law, and so into the booster seat he went.

“That was Fiona,” Daria said as she got in and fastened her own belt. “She suggested this Saturday for the playdate. They’ve got a covered patio with heaters, so the boys can have lunch outside and if the weather holds play on the fort, as they call it.”

Stefan turned to look at her. “Just like that?”

“Fiona,” Daria said, “is the mother every kid wishes they could have. He’ll have fun and be safe. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

“No,” Stefan said gruffly. “I…thank you.”

“Thank her. All I did was facilitate.”

“Still…if not for you…” He drew in a breath. “If not for you, a lot of things.”

And suddenly it was there, in the car with them, the memory of last night and that hug of thanks that had become an entirely different kind of embrace. And he knew, by the way she averted her eyes and became suddenly busy adjusting her purse, that she felt it, too.

Where that left them, he had no idea.

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