bars. Inside were hundreds of birds in colors Jak had never seen birds in before. “Flower birds,” Jak murmured, his eyes wide, their cries twisting his heart.
A woman wearing all white glided from behind one of the cages and held her hand out to Jak. Her eyes moved all over him, and he got that same feeling he used to get when he thought someone was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Hello,” she purred like a fox when it was eating its kill. “Look at you. You’re just everything I thought you’d be.”
“Spitting image of Hal Junior, isn’t he?”
The woman glanced at the grandfather. “Mmm,” she purred again. “I’m Loni.”
“She’s your step-grandmother,” Hal said, and she gave him a look like she was mad because what he said wasn’t true. She did look a lot younger than the grandfather. She reached her hand out and Jak took it in his, noticing her nails were long and sharp and bright pink. She used one of them to tickle his palm as he was pulling his hand away. Maybe she was trying to make him laugh, to tell him it was all a joke. He hoped so but . . . “Her son, Brett, and daughter, Gabi, live here with us as well. You’ll meet them later tonight.”
“You must be an animal lover, Jak,” Loni said. “We have that in common.” She waved her hand around at the crying birds. “I can’t wait to find out what else we have in common.”
Jak had no idea what to say to the bird woman with the claws, so he simply stared.
“You let me know if you need anything settling in, you hear?” Loni winked at him, but it was different than the wink Marie had given him, and he wasn’t sure how, but it was.
He nodded, wanting to get far away from the woman who enjoyed making beautiful things cry.
He hurried after the grandfather, finally taking a full breath once the bird cries faded. They went into a smaller room with two couches and two chairs. This room was yellow, all different shades. Jak sat in the chair the grandfather pointed to. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Not eggnog, please.”
The grandfather laughed. “Not a fan, eh? Me neither.” He handed him a glass of water and Jak took a grateful sip.
“I’m sure you have questions, Jak. What can I answer for you?”
“I’d like to hear about my father,” he said. “Agent Gallagher told me what happened with him and my . . . mother, but . . . what was he like? Who was he?”
He had a sad expression on his face and Jak wondered if it had been wrong of him to ask, but then the grandfather’s lips tipped upward and he leaned back in his chair. “Smart as a whip,” he said. “Everyone said so from the minute he was born. He picked up everything quickly, was good at whatever he put his mind to. He had so much . . .” His voice faded away and then he sat up straighter and his voice sounded strong again. “Potential.”
Potential. His father was smart. He picked things up. He had . . . potential. Hope. Hope for . . . a good life. Jak stored the word away. He liked that one. And he wondered if he had potential too. Maybe he’d gotten that from his father, along with the look of his face. He ran his hand along his jaw.
“You’ll want to shave, I imagine, once you get settled in your room.”
Jak nodded slowly, unsure. He kept his beard short with his pocketknife, but he hadn’t shaved his face since he’d grown face hair. It kept him warm in the winter. It told others he was a man who could mate and have his own offspring.
But the men he’d seen in civilization so far all had shaved faces. He guessed females in civilization thought other things were more important than mating and offspring. Jak ran his fingers along his jaw again, wondering what Harper would like.
“Anyway,” the grandfather sighed, “your father was a good man. He would have led a good life if that woman . . .” He seemed to grind his teeth together for a moment, and then he brought his own hand to his jaw, rubbing it before going on. “Well, suffice it to say, I wish things had been different, but here we are.”