Chapter 7: Morning
Thomas was awake before anyone else.
Margaret found him in the kitchen at half past six, sitting at the long oak table with a glass of water, watching the snow through the window.
He had found a blanket somewhere and wrapped it around his shoulders.
He looked up when she came in.
He didn't look startled.
He looked like someone who had learned not to be startled by things.
"I hope it's all right that I came down," he said.
"It's more than all right." She went to the kettle.
"Do you drink tea?"
"I've never tried it."
"Then it's time." She filled the kettle.
"How did you sleep?"
"Better than usual." He looked at the window again.
"It's quiet here."
"It is." She set two cups on the counter.
"Thomas, I want to ask you something.
You don't have to answer if you'd rather not."
"Okay."
"Did your father talk to you about this family?
About what he hoped would happen when you came here?"
Thomas thought about this seriously, the way children do when they've been asked a real question by an adult who actually wants the real answer.
"He said he didn't want us to be invisible," Thomas said.
"He said that was the worst thing — when people act like you don't exist.
He said he'd spent a long time being invisible to this family and he didn't want that for us."
Margaret set the teapot down.
"He said you were different," Thomas continued.
"He said if we could just get in front of you — just get you to actually see us — you'd do the right thing."
"He trusted me with that."
"Yes."
The kettle began to whistle.
She poured.
She brought both cups to the table and sat across from the boy.
"He was right to," she said.
Thomas wrapped both hands around the warm cup.
He didn't drink it yet.
Just held it.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"There are some legal matters that need to be resolved.
They will take time.
But while they're being resolved, you and your brothers will stay here." She looked at him steadily.
"This is your family's home.
It always should have been."
Thomas looked at her for a long moment.
"Richard's wife doesn't want us here."
"No.
She doesn't."
"Is she going to make trouble?"
"She's going to try." Margaret picked up her tea.
"But your father left very good instructions.
And I intend to follow every one of them."
Thomas nodded slowly.
Then he looked back out at the snow.
"He said you were stubborn," he said.
"He meant it as a compliment."
Margaret smiled — the first real smile since the helicopter had landed the night before.
"He knew me well."
Footsteps on the stairs.
Then Marcus appeared in the doorway, hair flattened on one side, dragging a stuffed rabbit by one ear.
He looked at Margaret with the frank assessment of an eight-year-old.
"Are you our grandmother?" he asked.
Margaret set down her cup.
"Yes," she said.
"I am."
Marcus considered this.
Then he walked to the table, climbed into the chair beside her, and put the rabbit on the table between them.
"His name is Captain," he said.
"He's been with us since Joel was born."
"He looks like he's seen some things," Margaret said.
"He has," Marcus said seriously.
"But he's fine."
From upstairs came the sound of small feet hitting the floor, then voices, then the particular thunder of two boys who had just remembered where they were.
Margaret stood to make more tea.
She didn't hear Richard's door open.
May you like
She didn't hear Claire's.
Only the boys coming down.
