Carrie and Caleb met Uncle Jim?” Jim asked.
Arty looked at Amy and Patrick first, smiled, then faced his brother. “I think that’s a great idea.” He turned back to the couple and pushed the television stand a useless half-inch closer, clicked it back on, winked and said, “Want to make sure you guys have a great view. I contemplated giving you some popcorn but…” He pointed to their gags, their binds. “Probably wouldn’t have worked out too well.”
“Arty?” Jim called from the door.
“Patience, my brother. Patience.”
* * *
The two brothers left the room, shutting the door softly behind them. When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs Arty took Jim by the arm and pulled him close. “Carrie, the little girl, can be a pain in the ass,” he whispered. “She already made Mom doubt some things. Try and steer clear from her. Dote over the little boy more often if you can. He’s a good kid. Quiet and harmless.”
Jim nodded and Arty let go of his arm. The two brothers walked through the den and into the family room.
“Look who I found,” Arty announced to the room, his mother in particular.
“James!” Maria cried. She nudged Caleb gently to one side and stood up to approach her son.
Jim hugged his mother hard and kissed her on the cheek. He held her by the face when he asked, “How you doing, Mom?”
She nodded fast, patting his shoulder with the same speed of her nods. “I’m good, I’m good. How are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m doing just fine, Mom.”
Maria patted her son’s shoulder again then returned to the sofa with Caleb back at her feet. “Oh this is so wonderful—everyone here like this. Sit, James, sit.”
Jim went to take a seat, but was instantly questioned by Carrie before he had a chance to settle.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Jim glanced over at Arty. Arty returned the glance with raised eyebrows and a See what I mean? expression.
Maria’s stint with earlier doubts had left her self-conscious, and she seemed to feign indifference to Carrie’s question towards Jim. Arty spotted it all the same and took control. “This is Uncle Jim,” he said.
“Where are Mommy and Daddy?” Carrie asked him again.
Her confident manner seemed to amuse Jim as he smirked at the little girl’s grit. Still, he ignored her and followed his brother’s advice by leaving his chair and stepping over to Caleb. He loomed down over the little boy at his mother’s feet. “How’s my big man doing?”
Caleb craned his neck as far back as it would go in order to take Jim in. His mouth hung open in a tiny O, cookie crumbs still flecked around the sides.
“Fine,” he said softly.
“Fine? Just fine? You look better than fine to me, my man. You look strong enough to fly!”
Caleb continued staring, seemingly unsure whether he should be excited or completely freaked out.
“Have you ever flown before?” Jim asked.
Caleb shook his head, his mouth still dangling open, his eyes still looking through the top of his head.
“You haven’t? Well what do you say we get going then, pilot Caleb?”
Jim bent over, scooped up Caleb, and swung him over one shoulder like a man carrying a log. Caleb’s body was rigid, but Jim’s enthusiasm seemed to pique the little boy’s interest enough to keep him in the game a little longer before crying out.
“Okay, pilot Caleb,” Jim began. “Hold your arms out straight like Superman.”
Caleb did.
“Good. Now…” Jim grinned. “Are you ready?”
Caleb nodded hesitantly.
“Come on, pilot Caleb. I said, are you ready?”
Caleb nodded again, stronger this time, but still with a hint of doubt.
“Well then let’s get ready for takeoff…”
“Be careful, James,” Maria said.
“Here we go…3…2…1…BLAST OFF!”
Jim raced throughout the family room with Caleb over his shoulder, the man making wild airplane sounds that changed pitch every time they dipped, rose, and swooped around a corner.
Caleb’s uncertainty became a thing of the past; the boy giggled wildly with each sudden spin and buzz throughout the room.
The occupants of the entire family room lit up as they watched Jim with Caleb. Maria looked on in absolute delight; Carrie was close to asking for a turn herself; and Arty wished more than anything that he could be upstairs to see the expression on Patrick and Amy’s faces as they watched.
* * *
Patrick and Amy sat next to one another in their holding room, unable to take their eyes off the television. They watched in helpless horror as a psychopath raced around a room with their four-year-old son over his