on Han Solo.”
“His legs were missing awready. Joe Lipsky bit ’em off last summer.”
Liam folded himself awkwardly onto the narrow bed. He brushed a lock of red hair from Bret’s eyes. “You know you can sleep with me anytime you want.”
Bret nodded but said nothing.
“You used to come into our bed whenever you had a nightmare. You can still do that … even if you haven’t had a nightmare and you just feel like being with me.”
“I know.”
This wasn’t getting them anywhere. It had always been Mike who could get the kids to talk about anything; Liam wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.
“Mommy’s not there.”
Of course. The king-sized bed seemed as big and empty to Bret as it did to Liam. “I’m still here, Bret, and you know what?”
“What?”
“It’s a secret. Will you promise not to tell anyone?”
Bret’s blue eyes looked impossibly big in his small face. “I promise.”
“Sometimes I get really scared … especially at night when I’m alone. It would help me an awful lot to be cuddled up with you. So, you come on in, anytime you want to. Okay?”
Bret laid his head on Liam’s shoulder and burrowed close.
They lay there a long time, so long the stars twinkled and faded one by one. Liam started to pull away, thinking that Bret had fallen asleep, but the moment he moved, his son said, “Don’t go, Daddy …”
Liam stilled. “I wasn’t going anywhere.” He twisted to the right and pulled a slim paperback book out of his back jeans pocket. “I thought I could start reading to you every night, the way Mo—Mommy and I used to. I know you’re big enough to read your own books, but I thought you might like it. Might help you sleep.”
“It would help.”
“I brought one of your mom’s favorite books. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.”
“Is it scary?”
“No.” Liam positioned himself against the bed’s headboard and pulled Bret up beside him. Opening the book, he flipped to the first page and began to read aloud. “Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy …”
The words gently bound father and son, and transported them to a world where children could step into an armoire and discover a magical land.
Finally Liam came to the end of a chapter and closed the book. The bedside clock read ten-thirty, well past time for Bret to go to sleep. “That seems like a good enough place to stop for tonight. We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow.”
Bret looked at him. “Do you believe in magic, Daddy?”
He smiled. “Every time I look at you or Jacey or Mommy, I know there’s magic.”
“Tell me about when I was born again.”
It was a well-worn legend, a quilt of often-told stories that could warm them on the coldest night. “She cried,” Liam said. “She cried and said you were the most perfect, most beautiful baby she’d ever seen.”
Bret smiled. “And you said I looked like I wasn’t done cookin’ yet.”
Liam touched his son’s soft, soft cheek. “You were so little …”
“But I had big lungs, and when I got hungry, I cried so loud the windows rattled.”
“And the nurses had to cover their ears.”
Bret’s genuine smile warmed Liam’s heart.
“Daddy, the kids that went through that … armwar. Do they come back?”
Liam wasn’t surprised that Bret wanted a guaranteed happy ending. “Yes, they do. Sometimes they get lost, but sooner or later, they always come back to the real world.”
“Will you read me more tomorrow night? Promise?”
“You bet.” He leaned down and kissed Bret’s forehead. As he did it, he remembered the “Mommy Kiss.” Mike had invented it when Bret was three years old. A magical kiss that prevented nightmares. “Should we start a daddy kiss? I have a bit of magic myself, you know.”
“Nope.”
Liam understood. Bret wanted to save that kiss for his mom. Trading it would make it feel as if she wasn’t ever coming home.
Bret looked up. Tears flooded his blue eyes. “I think about her all the time.”
“I know, honey,” he said, pulling Bret close. “I know.”
For a moment, perhaps no more than a heartbeat, life settled into a comfortable place. Liam smelled the sweet scent of his little boy’s hair, felt the soft twining of arms around his neck, and it was enough. A dozen treasured images came back to him, memories he’d collected over the years of their lives together. And in remembering what had been, he found the strength to pray for what could be.
Chapter