Before Gerrit could answer, Rae reappeared with a piece of paper in her hand, and Morgan’s face changed. A curtain dropped over it, his sullenness returned, and he looked down at the table.
“We better get going.” Rae waved at Morgan. “See you Monday.”
Morgan didn’t respond. As Gerrit followed Rae down the hall, he couldn’t get the boy out of his mind. Why was he testing him? Why had he shut down around Rae? What was this place?
“What are those kids doing here?” he asked.
Rae stopped at the door and looked at him. “On Mondays and Wednesdays they come to get help with their homework. Tutoring and stuff. They get referred to the program by teachers who don’t want them to fail. I’m one of the volunteers. On Fridays, Mark just opens the room up to give them a place to hang out after school.”
“So that Morgan kid. He’s failing his classes?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “He’s really smart. He’s only sixteen but he says he’s graduating this year.”
“Then what’s he doing here?”
She shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
They stepped out into the fresh air, and he was relieved to be free of that place. He and churches didn’t mix. But what was the deal with that Morgan kid?
An eerie wailing sound rent the air, and he frowned. It sounded like a—
“Mr. Whiskers!” Rae shouted and took off running toward the truck. “Something’s wrong.”
He picked up his pace to keep up with her. When he got close enough, he could see feathers flying inside the cab of his truck and hear Bernard’s banshee scream. Great. Just great.
Rae lunged for the door.
He held his hand out. “Wait!”
Too late. She opened it.
Bernard rocketed past her in a black-and-green blur aimed straight at him. He crossed his arms in front of him and braced himself, but the rooster flew right past and headed for the bushes lining the parking lot.
He glanced back at the truck. Rae had Mr. Whiskers in her arms and was gently petting his blood-smeared face.
“You poor thing. What did that nasty rooster do to you?”
Gerrit’s lip curled. This wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t insisted they stop here. That rooster might be more trouble than he was worth. Maybe bringing it home wasn’t a great idea, after all. But he couldn’t leave it here. It might carry off a small child.
He headed for the bushes.
“Where are you going?” Rae called after him.
“I’ve got to catch him.”
He turned his back on her and tromped ahead. Steam would be pouring from his ears if that sort of thing happened in real life. Of all the stupid, harebrained, ridiculous . . .
“Here, rooster, rooster.” He stepped into the bushes, moving with quiet deliberation. “Come on out.”
He used the voice that usually worked on cows that had been injured and needed to be approached for treatment. Except the only treatment he was considering for this creature was a pot of boiling water.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to get you back in your box.”
The bush two down from where he stood shook.
“Come here, rooster, rooster.”
“Maybe if you call him by his name.”
Gerrit jumped and spun around. “What are you doing?”
Rae tilted her head. “I’m going to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Mr. Whiskers is fine. Just a couple scratches.”
“Great.” He turned back to the shaking bush. “Wonderful. Go wait for me in the truck.”
“Remember what that lady said about gloves?”
He looked at his bare hands and scowled. A rooster’s talons could be vicious. That dumb cat was lucky he still had both his eyeballs.
Rae took a step closer. “You’ll never catch him by yourself.”
He’d never been a patient man. He used to blow up at his kids for being too loud. For being too slow. For needing more than he could give. He’d shouted at Noah that very morning when they’d talked on the phone, and Noah had said he would only come for Memorial Day weekend if Evi did.
Gerrit had been trying to avoid thinking about that call all day. He turned on Rae, ready to lose it on her, but his anger fizzled out at the expectant look on her face.
She was just a kid.
Like Evi and Noah had been. All those times.
“I have a plan,” she said, hopeful.
His shoulders drooped. The raging swirl in his chest morphed into a tight fist of remorse. “There’s a pair of gloves tucked under the driver’s seat. Go put them on.”
“What about you?”
He pulled his sleeves down over his hands. “I’ll be fine.”
Her plan was a good one. She returned with the gloves and the box and showed him a spot in the bushes where it was like a wall, too thick for the rooster to get through. They positioned the box on its side next to the wall, then closed in on the beast from the other two sides until he was forced into the open box.
Rae grinned in triumph. “We just have to close it.”
He cringed. Sure. Just reach on in. No problem.
He opted for the Band-Aid approach. Rip it off quick and get it over with. He managed to get the box sealed up with only two scratches on each hand to show for it.
“There now, Bernie.” Rae patted the box. “We’re not going to hurt you. Everything’s fine.”
Gerrit gave her an incredulous look.
“What?” She lifted her hands. “He was just scared.”
“Bernie, huh?”
She nodded.
“Pfft.” He muttered to himself. “More like Bernard the Terrible.”
She grinned and headed toward the passenger side of the truck.
Gerrit shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t.” He pointed. “Driver’s seat.”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she acquiesced.
They settled into the truck with Mr. Whiskers on the bench between him and Rae. Gerrit held the box on his lap upside down with both arms set on top so there was no possibility of escape. Focused as she was on the task at hand, Rae didn’t ask any more invasive questions as she drove ten miles per hour under
