when she turned her hand over, he laid the clamp-hand in her palm. Paula stopped walking, entranced by how the curved metal pieces fit together, easily able to clasp objects between them.
She curled her fingers carefully around the metal, as if she was holding his hand. Dan made a small sound, a slight inhale, and she felt him tense a little.
"Sorry!" she said, relaxing her grip. "Did that hurt?"
"No ... no." His voice was soft. Glancing up, she saw him looking down at her hand—their hands—with a strange intensity in his soft brown eyes. "It can't hurt. There's nothing to hurt. It's just that people don't normally ..."
"Touch it?" she asked gently.
He smiled. "People can be weird about it. Kids are actually better than adults, usually. They go ahead and ask the questions that adults don't want to ask."
"Like?" she asked.
"Like how it works." He rolled his shoulder, and she jerked a little in surprise as the clamps opened and closed. "My shoulder muscles operate a pulley system."
Paula couldn't help grinning in delight. "That's so cool," she said. She curled her hand around the clamps again. They were slightly warm now from her skin. "Ingenious, actually. But don't they have better ones now? Like, electronic ones that look like real hands."
"They do," Dan agreed. "I got to try out a bunch of different kinds at the VA hospital. And honestly, some of the modern ones are really amazing. But when it comes right down to it, I don't think I want a hundred thousand dollar piece of hardware attached to my shoulder. They need batteries and break a lot. This kind is cheap, relatively speaking, and almost indestructible. I can get it wet or dirty, and just wipe it down and it's good to go. If something does break on it, I can fix it myself, or pretty easily find somewhere that can repair it."
"Mom!" Lissy bellowed from the concession stand. "Whaddya want on your hot dog?"
"Don't yell!" Paula yelled back, and then rolled her eyes at herself, and grinned at Dan. "What do you want, nachos or hot dogs?"
"You're the expert. Which would you recommend?"
"They're both pretty awful, to tell the truth. I usually try to steer the kids toward the hot dogs. By concession standards, they're almost healthy, especially if you count ketchup as a member of the vegetable food group."
They rendezvoused with the kids at the concession stand. At some point Austin had rejoined the others. He had a tint to his cheeks and snowflakes in his hair, suggesting he'd recently been outside. However, she didn't see any sign of reddened eyes or anything else that might make her think he had been smoking or drinking with older teens. She decided not to nag about breaking the "stay in sight" rule. He was here now, so she wasn't going to get fussy if he wanted to go out for a little fresh air.
Hot dogs, nachos and Cokes were passed around, and they went and found an open space at the long picnic-style tables against the wall.
"Thanks for dinner," Dan told her. "Next time I pick up the tab."
"The important thing is that it's a dinner I don't have to cook," Paula said between bites of her hot dog.
"Do you come here often?" Dan asked. Paula cracked up and so did he, while the younger kids shared eye-rolling looks of exasperation and Austin looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. I'd say we come down here a couple times a month in the winter. It's a good way to get out of the house and let the kids have fun while the grown-ups talk."
"For certain values of fun," Austin muttered, and stuffed half a hot dog into his mouth.
"So what do you like in school, Austin?" Dan asked.
Austin only grunted.
"He's really good at math and science," Paula said. She ruffled Austin's hair before he could escape. "I bet he's going to be a famous scientist and make important discoveries."
"I like animals!" Lissy announced, wiping at a dollop of ketchup on her nose.
"That's not a school subject, dummy," Austin said.
"Austin," Paula sighed. "Please don't call your sister names."
"What are you going to be when you grow up?" Dan asked Lissy.
"A zookeeper," Lissy said promptly. "Or a farmer. Or the person that names the colors of paints. Or a falcon tamer—"
"You're forgetting the most important one," Paula said, suppressing a smile.
Lissy bounced in her seat. "Oh, oh, oh! I'm going to