table, making a tiny log house out of the toothpicks he’d found in a container on the table.
"I think we better get going," she said to him. It was still early but Wyatt was putting the twins to bed. She could leave.
He shook his head. "I'm not tired yet."
She knew she should press the issue but she wasn't keen on making the drive in the dark just yet. Besides, once Wyatt had the girls in bed, it would give him some time to be with Dean. Get to know him.
"I know there's some books on the bookshelf. I’ll read you some stories," she said. "But once we're done, then it's time to go."
Dean nodded and cleaned up the toothpicks without being asked. Adele helped him and then together they went into the family room.
Adele felt once again a sense of unreality. They were here in a stranger's house yet she felt completely at home. Wishful thinking, she said to herself. Trying to replace the home she had lost when Earl died.
She shook off the silly thought and walked over to the bookshelf to find the books she’d discovered the other day.
Dean cuddled up beside her as she opened one of the books and started to read. The ease with which he snuggled up to her created another unwelcome pang. How could she leave him here?
And once again, she felt a shiver of anger with her friend for keeping Dean away from his father this long. For not letting Dean know earlier who he was.
She forced her mind back to the story about a fire engine that wanted adventure. The book was written in rhyme, and Adele caught the soothing cadence of the book, getting pulled into the story. Dean leaned forward, looking at the pictures, smiling with each adventure the fire engine got into. He laughed in a few places.
As she turned the last page, Wyatt came down the stairs. He paused at the bottom, looking at them both with a quizzical expression on his face. Maybe he was thinking the same thing she was. How did they all end up here?
"My mom read those books to me and my brothers," he said, dropping onto the couch opposite her.
"I figured they were older books," Adele said, running her finger over a pencil doodle that someone had added to one page. "They look well read."
"It's one of a set that we got from a lady in the church, Dot Westerveld. She was on a one-woman mission to make the young population of Millar's Crossing literate. She would give books out at Christmas at church."
"A book is the gift that keeps on giving," Adele said with a smile.
She caught Wyatt's eyes on hers and once again had a hard time looking away.
She forced her attention back to the book she was reading, but the entire time she read, she felt Wyatt's attention on her and Dean. It unsettled and fascinated her.
A few books later, she glanced up at the clock. "Okay, buddy, we need to get going."
Dean stretched, then stood, glancing over at Wyatt. For a moment Adele thought he would ask him another awkward question. Instead he just gave Wyatt a careful smile.
"Goodnight...Mr. Wy-Wyatt," he said, stumbling over the name.
Wyatt stood. "Good night, kiddo," he said, reaching out and ruffling Dean's hair.
Adele swallowed at the sight. Was Wyatt coming to grips with the fact of his fatherhood? Or was he just being nice?
Dean walked away and Adele looked at Wyatt. "Thanks for the kindness," she said, wanting to acknowledge the tentative gesture he had given Dean.
"He's a good kid," he said, adding a shrug, as if his admission was dragged out of him.
"He is. He's a real sweetheart."
Wyatt pressed his lips together and Adele guessed she had pushed things too far. Campaigned maybe a bit too hard.
"What time do you want me to come tomorrow?" she asked.
"Whatever works for you. I need to bring my snow machine into town tomorrow for some repairs, but I don't need to leave until about ten."
"I can come for breakfast."
"You don't need to do that," he protested, but Adele sensed he was being polite.
"I don't mind. I have little else to do." She smiled at him and she could see a tension in his shoulders release.
"Okay. That'd be great."
As they stood across from each other, Adele felt something else slip into the atmosphere. A sense of waiting, expectation. Was it just her imagination, or did Wyatt move just a little closer to her? Did his