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Close Knit

Nina Kiriki Hoffman

“Come on, Melly. Let me spend Christmas day with you and the kids,” Leo said into his cell phone. “I promise I’ll bring presents, and I won’t bring any of our regular arguments.”

“What, you have a whole new set?” asked Melissa from the house they used to share on the other side of town.

Leo leaned back against the frilly-shammed pillows his mother had layered against the bed’s headboard in what used to be his childhood room. His mother took cushions to an extreme. There was so much padding in his parents’ house you often couldn’t find the furniture beneath.

Since he moved out at eighteen to marry Melissa, his mother had turned his old room into a guestroom for someone who loved ruffles, country patterns, the scent of lavender, and no actual contact with dirt. Leo didn’t like any of those things, but his room was the one his mother turned into a guest room. His older brother Rick’s room had become a sewing room, and his older brother Andy’s room had turned into a study for his dad. When he moved back in following the separation, he ended up in his new old room.

In his parents’ house, he was in his mother’s power, which made it hard to move out.

He had been hoping the split with Melissa was temporary, hoping he’d move home to her and the kids in a week. It had stretched into months.

If he couldn’t go home, he needed to get out of his parents’ house and live somewhere else.

Live alone. Oh, God. When he considered the prospect, the world went dark behind his eyes. He thought of his middle brother, Andy, the one they had made unmentionable after his suicide. Andy had lost his wife in childbirth, and then himself. The bond had been too strong for Andy to survive without his wife.

“I will sign a pact of nonaggression,” Leo said. “Please, Melissa. You know you can trust me.”

“Well,” she said, and let the silence stretch. “My folks are coming for Christmas dinner at two in the afternoon. Can you be gone by then?”

“Do they hate me that much?”

“I just don’t want to stress about this!”

“Okay. If I can have the morning with you and the kids, that’d be great.”

“All right. See you around eight a.m.”

“Roger that. Thank you, Melissa. Thank you.”

“Don’t screw this up, Leo.”

“I won’t.”

She hung up. He set the phone on the bedside table and sank back against the pillow mountain. He only got to see his three kids once a week, and they kept changing while he wasn’t there to see it. He never saw Melissa at all, only talked with her on the phone.

Christmas Day, he’d have another chance to collect the threads of family and reclaim his power.

In the meantime, he’d have to survive life among the marshmallows.

Leo had done what his father told him. “Don’t pick the most beautiful, the most talented, the smartest, the most ambitious,” Dad had said. “Find someone who doesn’t have big dreams or plans.”

Leo picked Melissa when they were in tenth grade. Melissa was a nice, quiet girl, no great beauty, but pleasant and pretty and thoughtful. He supported her, spent time with her, spun the bond to draw her to him. She smiled and came into his embrace.

He’d proposed when they were at the top of a Ferris wheel at the county fair their senior year in high school. He reined in all his family magic to let her make the choice without him pushing her into it. That wasn’t something his father had told him to do.

Sometimes he wondered what his mother would be like if she got away from home and her husband.

Melissa thought about his proposal for a whole revolution of the Ferris wheel; she accepted the engagement ring when they reached the height again and could look out over the fairgrounds and the town, their present and future. The memory of the sweetness of their kiss, another few revolutions of the big wheel, wrapped up in each other and apart from the world around them, still warmed him.

They married right after high school. She had warmed and blossomed in his love, grown into skills that served them both well. She was a fine cook and a wonderful mother; she was skilled, too, at making comfort in every room of the house.

He had not made the mistakes of his older brother, Rick, who had chosen powerful, interesting women to wed. Rick had never established a good bond with his first wife—she was too strong-willed, too artistic, too self-motivated. They divorced after two years. Rick married another artist and lost her, too. He was on his third wife, unheard of for men in the Yates family. With each marriage, Rick’s family magic grew weaker. Dad was sure Rick’s third marriage would fail as well, though Leo liked Cassandra, Rick’s current wife, a lawyer.

Leo worked for a courier service, shuttling blood samples from doctors’ offices to labs, lumber from home improvement stores to construction sites, legal papers from lawyers to lawyers, vegetables and fruits from farms to restaurants. He spent all his time stitching things together.

His home had been the seat of his power, where he went restore himself. His family was his highest priority. He loved his children so fiercely his heart hurt, and he loved Melissa to death. She was his hearth, his place to rest in warmth and comfort after a day spent with unconnected people.

He wasn’t sure when things began to unravel. Last summer, though, Melissa had kicked him out, and to his surprise, his family magic hadn’t been strong enough to change her mind.

Leo and Melissa had managed their separation without involving lawyers or counselors. He spent time with each of his kids once a week.

Saturday afternoon, he picked up his oldest daughter, sixteen-year-old Piper. He parked at the curb and called her cell phone to let her know he was outside. “Okay,” she said, sounding harassed. It was fifteen minutes before she slumped out of the house, her slender body disguised in a long-sleeved blue t-shirt under black corduroy overalls, one strap hanging, and a little white skull and crossbones pin attached to the other strap. Her red-brown hair hung in curly, uncombed spills. Her narrow face was flecked with dark freckles, and her red-amber eyes stared past him as she slung her backpack into the back seat and climbed into the car.

“Can we go to the movies, Dad?” Piper asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What do you want to see?”

She named the latest blockbuster adventure movie. Gun battles, explosions, car chases. Not his idea of a good time, but hey.

He sighed and agreed. He didn’t know how to talk to Piper anymore. Ask her about school and she shrugged. Ask her what she was interested in, and she shrugged even higher. Ask her about boys, and she said, “Forget it.”

Ask her about how she was doing since he left the house, and receive silence.

Melissa said Piper was going through a phase.

Leo bought popcorn and soda and sat through a lot of flash and noise beside his daughter. No talking during the movie. Afterward they went to Applebee’s for dinner.

He had been holding his family magic in a nest around his heart, the tendrils tight-furled. As he watched his daughter eat prawns and salad, he unfurled the tendril that used to connect him to her, and let it touch her again. He couldn’t maintain these connections over distance for prolonged times, and he didn’t want to hurt his wife or children by trying.

Piper relaxed. She put down her fork and sat back and looked at him. She didn’t smile, but her eyes softened.

“How are things at home?” he asked.

“Daaaad,” she said.

He touched his breastbone, the place where he connected to his family.

Piper closed her eyes, then opened them. “When are you coming home?”

“Your mom and I need to work it out, Piper. I hope we can, but I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Well … you don’t listen very well, Dad. Mom wants to do other things than just keep house and take care of us. She bought paints and set up the guest room as an art studio. Like, she has no clue how to paint, but she’s doing it anyway, and it makes her happy. She joined some club. Like, a book club or something? They meet at the bookstore? And people come over to play cards.”

Leo sat back. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“She could still do that with you at home, if you didn’t, like, smother her.”

“Okay, Piper. Thanks. Thanks for telling me.”

“Yeah, and I thought I was good at shutting up.” She frowned ferociously. “This sucks.”

Leo stroked his breastbone, relaxing the nudge to talk he’d put on her, but not letting go of the connection.

They walked the mall after dinner. He needed to find her a present for Christmas; he pinned his hopes for the future on Christmas morning. He tried to watch what she looked at while they were window-shopping, but her preferred mode was stealth and secrets, so whenever she noticed him noticing, she looked somewhere else.

She hugged him when he dropped her off at the house, and he gently pulled his connection back inside, then sat in the car parked at the curb.

He and Melly had bought the house when she was pregnant with Piper. They had looked at a lot of houses when they knew it was time to give up apartment living and make room for kids. This one had a master bedroom with its own bathroom, and four other bedrooms.

“You think we’re going to need all these rooms?” Melly had asked. “I’m not having twins, you know.”

“I know,” he said, “but who knows what the future holds?” and she had laughed, and they made a down payment.

The house had been in terrible shape when they bought it. He’d really enjoyed working on it, weaving nest magic into plumbing and electricity, spackle and paint, floorboards and linoleum. He asked her about color choices and textures, and followed her taste in everything.

They had been happy here together.

The light was on in the living room behind the blue curtains. He imagined the three kids and Melly curled up on the couch, watching TV together.

But there were other cars in the driveway. Maybe this was a game night, and Melly was at the dining room table with people he didn’t know, enjoying herself.

He wanted to reach out to her. Just the lightest touch, and he would know how she felt, and maybe what she was doing. When he was still living at home, that knowledge had buoyed him through his days.

He hadn’t known how she felt, though, when she was working her way up to kicking him out, despite their constant connection. How had he missed it?

He stared at the light behind the curtains. Life was going on inside without him. He couldn’t reach out to Melly. He didn’t feel he had the right anymore.

He clenched his hands against his breastbone, then started the car and drove to the library. He read magazines until closing, putting off the return to his parents’ house as long as possible. He read through the newspaper, too, looking at apartment listings and fantasizing about renting his own place.

Ultimately, his mother’s pull was too strong. Over the fifty-two years of his parents’ marriage, the family magic had mostly shifted from his father to his mother, since she wanted and used it more. A constant bond between two people was also a conduit for power; it ended up going both ways if it lasted long enough.

“Is that you, Leo?” his mother called from the living room as he came in the front door. Even the foyer was somehow pillowy, maybe because she had hung pastel quilts on the walls. That lavender scent was heavy all through the house.

“Who else?” Leo said. He sighed and stepped through the foyer.

Father was in his study with the door closed, but Mom was in the living room watching the Food Channel and lying in wait. He wished he’d never moved back in. A week he could stand, but months.…

In the living room, his mother, trim and gaunt-cheeked, stiff in her beige Nordstrom’s loungewear, sat upright on the couch, slippered feet together, back straight, though the cushions slumped behind her, inviting relaxation.

She muted the TV and said, “I made dinner. I set a place for you. If you’re going to miss dinner, you need to tell me.”

“Mom, you knew it was my afternoon with Piper.”

“Afternoon ends before eight-thirty, Leonard.”

“We ate at Applebee’s after the movie.”

She breathed out loudly through her nose, then said, “Well, now that you’re home, we can have checkers.” She flexed her family magic, crushing his resistance.

He spent the rest of the evening on a frilly chair at the game table in the living room, losing every game.

Sunday, he stopped by Melissa’s house to pick up Kaylee, his eleven-year-old daughter, and Riley, his fourteen-year-old son, who both wanted to go to the Natural History Museum. They were on the sidewalk in front of the house when he pulled up. Kaylee, short, blond, and blue-eyed, expressionless in a way he wasn’t used to, was bundled up in a big bone-white sweater, jeans, and fleece-edged brown Ugg boots. Riley, taller, thin, with shaggy blond hair and clear brown eyes, wore jeans and a black hoodie with white skeleton bones on it. His shoulders hunched.

Leo put his fist to his chest and let himself connect to his kids. They came to the car and climbed in, Riley in the front seat next to Leo, and Kaylee in the back. She always rode in the back, it occurred to him. He watched her in the mirror, and felt her in his chest. She seemed to have a big square box inside her, with a tight shut lid that she guarded. He glanced at Riley and listened to what his connection told him about his son. Riley was mixed up, full of something he wanted and feared to say.

If Leo pushed energy through the link, he could get his kids to open up. In the past, he hadn’t hesitated. This time, he held back.

They had visited the Natural History Museum countless times. Kaylee’s favorite exhibit was the bird nests, old glass-topped cases in a huge room with many, many bird nests in each, most with eggs in them. She loved the different colors of the eggs, some blue, white, yellow, teal, some with spots and freckles, some plain. There was a hummingbird nest on a loop of rope, and some of the shorebird nests were just a couple twigs on a flat rock. Kaylee could contemplate nests for hours. Leo listened in just a little. She imagined herself inside the eggs, with a giant, feathered mother or father resting against her and keeping her safe and warm.

He had heard this fantasy before. Today it was louder and sharper.

“Dad,” said Riley.

“Riley.” He turned to his son as Kaylee wandered farther away.

“I have to talk.”

“Let’s sit down.” They walked to a bench against the wall and sat where he could keep an eye on Kaylee.

“Dad, I’ve been wanting to I’ve been waiting to—Dad—”

Leo waited. They both sat, staring toward Kaylee. Leo had just the lightest connection to Riley. He wondered whether he should boost it to find out what Riley was trying to tell him. He used to do that all the time. Lately, he’d been wondering if that was such a good idea.

“Dad, I think I’m gay.”

Leo stared at the floor. Dismay swamped him, and a storm of thoughts he wanted to edit out as they swarmed through his mind—so there’s my legacy gone to a dead end, people will hate my son and hurt him because he’s different, he’s not the same to me anymore either, what do I do now? How could this happen? Whose fault is it? Why Riley, why me?—

He touched his sternum and listened to what Riley hadn’t said aloud. Riley had been sitting on a volcano, and now he was swallowed up in a cloud of dark gray fear and despair.

Leo took Riley’s hand. He leaned back, holding his son’s hand, and let his mind relax, let the whirling thoughts fade. When he felt calm, he said, “Okay.”

“I wish I wasn’t. I’ve been trying to make it change, but it doesn’t. I thought if I didn’t ever say it out loud, it would go away, but it didn’t.”

“How long have you been struggling with this?”

Riley looked away. Leo waited.

“About two years,” Riley said at last. “There’s a guy at school, we’ve been in the same classes for a couple years, and I had a crush on him, kinda, but I knew he’d hate me if I did anything about it, and—and the other guys are all talking about girls, but—I don’t feel—I—”

Leo squeezed his hand. “It’s all right, Riley. It’s okay. It’s—it’s natural, and you’re not alone.” Two years? Two years, and Leo had been living in the same house with him for one and a half of those years, connected through family magic, and hadn’t noticed this dark cloud wrapping around his son. Maybe he was losing his magic, too, the way his brother Rick had.

Riley sighed. They sat side by side, Leo holding Riley’s hand, until Kaylee was through looking at bird nests. “Let’s go to the hall of minerals,” she said.

Leo stood up and tugged Riley to his feet. His son was almost as tall as he was. Fear and guilt still thrummed through the boy. Leo pulled his son into a hug. “Hey. You’re a fine kid. Nothing wrong with you. Got it?”

“No,” said Riley, muffled, speaking to Leo’s shoulder, his arms tight around his father. Then he laughed.

“We can work on that.” Leo thumped him on the back and let go. They could work on it … when Leo had visits with the kids. Or if he moved home. Or, he supposed, on the phone, if it came down to it. He needed to get online and do some research, find out what Riley was likely to need and how to help him. “Call me anytime if you need help. Does your mom know?”

“I didn’t tell her, but I think she—sometimes she—I don’t know.”

Leo felt a glow at the thought that Riley had told him first, then tried to tamp it down. “We can worry about that later. Right now, we’ve got some rocks to visit.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Riley rubbed his eyes with his fists. Leo patted his back again, and they followed Kaylee to the hall of minerals.

Riley was calmer, smiling, when Leo dropped him and Kaylee off at the house later that afternoon.

The locked box inside of Kaylee was jiggling and jumping. The lid rattled as if something inside was trying to scratch its way out.

Wednesday was Christmas Day. At eight a.m., Leo parked in front of the house. The front lawn was still frosty with last night’s freeze, and his breath puffed out of him, little clouds that spun and vanished. The trees were bare-branched black. He grabbed the shopping bags of presents and headed up the walk to the front door. If this Christmas was like others, the kids would have been up at least two hours already.

He’d missed the big Christmas Eve dinner. In the past, Melissa had spent the whole day preparing and cooking for it, and his parents had come; it was the only time of the year they would be civil and not try to take over his family from him, because Melissa made everything perfect, from the turkey to the holiday centerpiece. This year, he’d spent Christmas Eve with his parents in their padded house, eating boneless turkey breast and soggy sweet potato casserole, his father’s favorites. He wondered if Melissa had invited any of her new friends over for Christmas Eve.

He hadn’t helped Melissa with the tree this year, or the do stockings. Every year, they decorated the tree on Christmas Eve, after the children went to sleep, so the kids would be surprised when they came downstairs the next morning. Every year, Leo had been the one to sneak into the kids’ rooms and lay the stockings at the foots of their beds.

Melissa opened the door to his ring and offered him an unguarded smile, the bright, wide smile she used to give him when he came home after a long day at work, the smile of someone happy to see him. Heat bloomed in his chest, and his family magic unfurled, reaching out to her and the kids without his even willing it. He so wanted to hug her right into his heart.

Her smile faded and she stepped back without a word, leaving the way open.

He closed his eyes and retracted his magic. When he looked again, Melissa smiled faintly. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” He edged past her. Something strange had just happened. She knew. She knew when he connected to her, and when he disconnected. Maybe that was why she never came to the door when he stopped by to pick up the kids.

“Breakfast?” he asked.

“Already over.”

He smiled and headed for the living room.

The tree was big, with dense green needles. It scented the room with pine. Pale, pearly glass balls and tinsel shone, flashing in the flickering white lights that nestled in the branches. The tree was loaded with candy canes and gilded pinecones. It looked like something in a magazine. A fire blazed in the fireplace, and the stacks of presents around the tree were wrapped with Melissa’s usual flair. She was a master of ribbon bows and invisible tape.

Last year they had laughed together and shushed each other while they decorated the tree. The tree had looked more like a collaboration, maybe a drunken one. And they had had multicolored lights, his favorite; Melissa always wanted white lights.

Riley, Piper, and Kaylee sat on the couch, looking at him. He hesitated, wondering if anybody would hug him. No one got up. After all, he’d seen them only a couple days ago. He smiled at them. “Hey, guys. How about if I’m Santa this year?”

Each year, one of the family was the designated Santa, handing out gifts to everyone. It had started with him and Melissa when the kids were small, but last year Riley had done it, and the year before, Piper. One gift for each person, and a pause while everybody opened the presents and showed them to each other, and then Santa handed out another round of gifts.

“Okay, Daddy,” said Kaylee.

Leo let the thinnest tendrils touch the children. They were all excited and a little worried. Kaylee, especially, was agitated, and that box inside her was jumpy. Nobody was mad he was usurping the Santa role. He glanced at Melissa, his head cocked.

She smiled and nodded.

“Okay. Let’s see what we have.” He unloaded his presents from the cloth shopping bags he’d brought them in, one gift for each of the children and a big present for Melissa. He’d save those for Round Two. He picked a present for each person from Melissa’s perfect pile and handed them around. He had wondered if there would be gifts for him, as awkward and strange as the separation had been. But there were.

Kaylee ripped paper off her present. An iPod, with headphones. She crowed with delight.

Riley untaped his gift carefully and folded the green foil paper before seeing what he got—three classical music CDs.

Piper opened one end of her parcel and slid the inside out: a knit hat in black with white skull and crossbones. She pulled it onto her head until it covered her from the eyebrows up and said, “Thanks, Mom!”

Melissa sat with her present in her lap. It was one of a few under the tree wrapped sloppily, hidden behind Melissa’s showcase presents. He’d had to hunt to find a present for her. It was from Kaylee.

Melissa unwrapped Kaylee’s crumpled purple tissue paper and held up a small clay dragon.

“I made it in material arts class,” Kaylee said.

“I love it!” Melissa said.

Leo’s present was small, wrapped in gold foil. A gift from Melissa. He opened it. A utilitarian pair of steel handcuffs. Confused, he stared down at them and wondered why he felt cold. Then he wondered if Melissa had new ideas about sex she wanted to share. He looked up at her, and she flushed and stared at the floor. Sex? He reached out. He had to know.

His tendril touched her and she hunched her shoulders, then stared up at him, her gaze intense.

So, she wasn’t looking for bondage games. She was sending a message.

She saw him as handcuffs. Somehow, she knew about family magic.

He pulled back, chilled.

“Gah, Mom, what is that about?” Piper asked, staring at the handcuffs. “Maybe I don’t want to know.”

Riley and Kaylee looked up from their presents. Leo slid the handcuffs into a back pocket, out of sight. He rose, smiling. “Next round.”

He handed around the presents he had brought. His chest felt tight. Six months since he’d spent more than a few hours a week with them, and everybody had changed. His understanding of them had changed, too; now he felt like he didn’t know any of them very well. What if he’d gotten everything wrong?

For himself, he got a lumpy, purple-tissue-wrapped present from Kaylee. He set it in his lap and sat, his fingers digging into his knees, as he waited for verdicts. Light, light touch on the children, just so he’d know what they really thought.

“Gee,” said Riley, “I have absolutely no idea what this is.” He ripped paper off the basketball and held it like a globe in front of him, staring at it as though he’d never touched a basketball before.

When Riley was ten, he and Leo spent a lot of time after Leo got off work shooting baskets through a rim Leo had attached above the garage. One day the ball had deflated. Leo had patched it, but it didn’t hold air anymore, and somehow he’d let it go, and lost the close connection to Riley. Maybe that was why he hadn’t known Riley was having such a tough time.

“So, what, you want me to be a jock now?” Riley said, his voice monotonal. Despair and bitter disappointment flowed along Leo’s connection to him.

“No! No. I just thought maybe we could get back to playing horse.” Of course, that would be hard if he wasn’t living here.

Riley’s eyes narrowed. He bounced the ball once and set it on the couch next to him.

“Daaaaad,” Piper said, holding up the necklace he had bought for her. The pendant was a pink enamel heart with a Swarovski crystal in the center.

She likes skulls and black corduroy, he thought. Another big mistake. “I’m sorry. I saved the receipt. You can trade it in.”

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth flattened. She tucked the necklace into her jeans pocket, though it had come in a nice velvet case. Leo felt hollow.

Kaylee pulled paper from her odd-shaped gift, frowning. “What is this?” she asked, and held up the wire frames with glittering, lacy yellow cloth stretched across them.

“Fairy wings,” he said.

“What? You think I’m still six years old?”

“I think you’re magic,” he said, and then the box inside her leaped and dropped and the lid popped open and a cable shot from her into his chest, and he gasped as it hooked into him.

HOW DID YOU KNOW? Kaylee’s voice roared inside him.

“Oh, Kaylee,” he said, his voice coming out high and twisted.

She pulled on her cable and he slid from the couch to the floor. He clapped a hand to his breastbone, trying to break the connection before it strangled him.

HOW DID THAT WORK? I NEVER DID THAT BEFORE. HOW DO I STOP IT?

“Come here, honey,” he whispered, and she came and knelt next to him. “You talk to it, ask it to let go and come home to you.”

GET BACK HERE, she thought furiously.

The tugging in his chest lifted him a couple inches off the ground. He coughed, and said, “Not like that. First you have to relax. Then ask nicely. Take a deep breath, let it out, take another, let it out. Okay, honey?”

“Leo, what are you doing?” Melissa asked.

“Uh—” He stared up at his daughter, who was staring back, her eyes wide, looking through him as she drew in deep breaths and let them out. LET GO, she thought. OKAY, LET GO OF DAD AND—COME BACK.

Her connection unhooked and pulled back into her. Leo thunked to the ground as Kaylee heaved a huge sigh. Then she threw herself on him and started crying. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

He stroked her back and said, “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be all right, honey. I can help you with this.” So Kaylee ended up with the family magic. He wondered if Riley or Piper had, too. It didn’t always transfer, and Kaylee was pretty young to manifest. She had manifested more strongly than anybody he’d ever known.

She would need his help dealing with this. He needed to start training her right away.

Or maybe after they finished opening presents.

“Leo!” Melissa said.

Piper was staring at him, her face expressionless. Riley hugged the basketball and gazed at the ceiling.

Leo pushed Kaylee back gently and sat up. “Sorry, Melly. We had a moment.”

“That’s not good enough. What just happened?”

Leo looked down into Kaylee’s face. Her eyes were bright with tears. “I think we need to talk about that,” he said slowly. Kaylee was going to have to learn to handle what she had, and that didn’t happen overnight. Melissa would need information. Leo needed to tell her, maybe everything. “Could we do it later?”

Melissa looked at Piper and Riley, then at Leo. “You’re going to explain?” she asked.

“Yes. I want to tell you.”

“I want to know.” She sounded fierce. “Later.” She nodded. “Tonight.”

“Good.” He climbed back onto the couch, tugging Kaylee to sit beside him, and unwrapped the present Kaylee had made for him. It was another clay creation, this time a purple octopus. He touched his breastbone, thinking about unfolding tendrils, and how they could be thought of as tentacles. Kaylee rubbed her fist against her breastbone, too. “Thanks, baby,” he said. “I love it. I’ll keep it on my desk.”

She hugged his head, then went back to the kids’ couch and slid her arms through the straps of the fairy wings, settling them on her back. She looked adorable. Then she scowled, and looked adorable and grumpy.

“Open your present, Mom,” Riley said.

Melissa set the heavy rectangular package on her lap. It was wrapped in paper with little Santas running all over. She lifted the taped edges gently enough not to tear anything, and discovered a stained and varnished wooden paint box. She gasped, then unlatched the lid and looked inside. “Oh, Leo,” she said, her voice full of wonder. The box had compartments inside stocked with brushes, wipes, and tubes of the best acrylics he could find, burnt sienna, cobalt blue, cadmium red and yellow, dioxazine purple, and other, more fanciful colors—poodleskirt pink, moon yellow, mint julep green. The lid had grooves in it, and he had slid some stretched canvases into them.

When she looked up at him, her eyes shone.

“I know I can’t fix everything overnight,” he said.

“You got that right.”

“I’d like a chance to try.”

She closed the paint box and latched the lid. “It can’t be like before.”

He thought of his mother and father, the magic bond they’d formed, and how it strangled him. How his father’s magic had shifted into his mother over the years, and what she did with it. He didn’t want to turn into a parent like the ones he had. Maybe Rick was the smart one, marrying people he couldn’t use family magic on, letting his powers wither. “You’re right. You’re so right.”

“Trial period. Understand?”

“Melly,” he said. He hugged her, her warmth and prickliness and smell of mint shampoo and waffles, and felt hope for the first time in too long.

***