Aidan stared at him. His gaze darted toward the town square; more specifically, at the corner occupied by the bus stand. The child’s lips trembled, but he said nothing.
Sean kept his voice casual. “The bus to D.C. came through a half hour ago. The one to Baltimore isn’t due for another fifteen minutes.”
“Oh.” Aidan straightened. A tiny smile appeared on his lips. “Okay.”
“Who are you visiting in Baltimore?”
“My dad.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,” Sean said. From the fire station, someone called out Jack’s name, and Jack turned and walked away, but not before clamping a hand on Sean’s shoulder in an intentional way. He did not need words to convey the message, “Don’t let him run away.”
Sean nodded before turning back to Aidan. “Do you see your dad often?”
Aidan shook his head. “He’s supposed to see me every weekend, but he’s busy. He has an awesome job in Baltimore.”
“I bet he does. Are you taking Jewel to see him?”
“I’m going to live with him.” Aidan raised his chin, but his voice wobbled.
“I see. Jewel, too?”
“Mom says I have to find a new home for her.”
“I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean you had to find a new home for yourself, too.”
“But Jewel is my dog. I’m not going to give her away. I promised to keep her for always.” Tears moistened Aidan’s voice.
“Right.” Sean squatted down to be on eye-level with Aidan. He ruffled Jewel’s fur, and the puppy woofed. “That’s a tough situation. I don’t think your mom meant for you to break a promise. She probably didn’t know you’d made one.”
“She just doesn’t want me to have anything. I ask her for stuff, and she never gives it to me.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Like a new bike. Like all the cool toys my friends get for their birthday and for Christmas.” The glitter in Aidan’s eyes melted into tears that he swiped away with a dirty hand. “I don’t need toys or stuff. I just want a dog, but Mom says I can’t keep her.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said Jewel cost too much money—”
Sean thought back to the mess of baked goods on the floor of the café. Those had been a day’s worth of sales, certainly a tidy sum.
“And when Dad called, she didn’t even ask him for money for Jewel even though I told her to. She’s mean. She doesn’t want me to have my dog.”
“I don’t think we know enough about what’s going on between your mom and dad to know why she didn’t ask him.”
“I know why.” Aidan scowled. “She hates him. That’s why he doesn’t come to see me.”
Sean winced. No, don’t get sucked in, he coached himself. Just stop the kid from getting on the bus. “Your mom is going to miss you if you run off to live with your dad.”
Aidan shook his head. “No, she won’t. She made my breakfast and lunch, and then rushed off to work, and told me to find a home for Jewel. She won’t even know I’m gone until the end of the day.”
“What did she give you for lunch?” Sean asked, grabbing at the loose ends, trying to buy time for someone smarter to salvage the situation—where the heck was Jack, anyway? “A sandwich?”
“No, it’s rice with beef and this vegetable thing that Mom does all the time. I like it. Do you want to see it?” Aidan wriggled his shoulders out of the backpack loops and pulled a sealed plastic container from his bag. He pried off the lid, and the rich scent of beef gravy infused the air.
Sean’s eyes widened. “If it smells as good as it tastes, you’re a lucky boy.”
“It’s okay.” Aidan shrugged. “Mom’s an okay cook. She’s always messing about in the kitchen when we’re home, when she’s not on my case about homework and grades and stuff. I think she wants to open her own café one day, so she makes all this stuff for me to eat and I’m supposed to tell her if it’s any good.”
“Well, it’s definitely passing the smell test.” Sean helped Aidan seal the lid over the container. “I’m sure you’ll miss your mom’s cooking when you’re gone.”
Aidan’s face twisted into a frown, and for the first time, hesitation crawled into his eyes. “I guess I will. Dad’s not good at cooking. He just gives me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when he visits.” His gaze darted to the dog. “I hope Jewel likes sandwiches.”
“I doubt it,” Sean said. “Dogs like dog food, not people food.”
“That’s what Mom said. I thought she was lying.”
“Why would your mother lie to you?”
“She lies all the time. She always says things are fine, but at night, when she thinks I’m asleep, I sneak out to the staircase, and she’s alone downstairs, and she always looks so sad. If things were fine, she wouldn’t be sad. So she’s lying to me.” Aidan tossed the final word out with the insulted air of a child more injured by the fact that he had been lied to than by the situation around the lie.
“I see…” Sean tried not to brighten as inspiration struck. “If you ran away, things would definitely not be fine. Your mother would be even sadder.”
“But why?”
“Because she loves you.”
“She won’t let me keep Jewel.”
“Jewel is a big dog, and big dogs can cost a lot of money because they eat so much. But I know your mother loves you. She makes your meals; she’s on your case about homework—”
“That’s not love.”
“That’s love, Aidan. That’s love in its purest form. There’s nothing in it for her. She’s doing it because it’s good for you.”
The frown on Aidan’s face did not vanish, but a thoughtful gleam appeared in his eyes. “But she still won’t let me keep Jewel.”
“Why don’t you let me keep Jewel?”
Aidan’s gaze locked on Sean’s face. “What?”
“Just for a while until you can train her to behave properly and not upset muffins and
