All the years between us stood in his eyes.
“I want the chance to tell you the whole truth,” he said. “After that, what you do with me is yours to decide.”
For three days, he stayed in Gray Hollow.
He rented a room at the Cedar Inn, the one with creaking floors and faded quilts. People noticed, of course. Gray Hollow noticed everything. By Friday, Mrs. Halpern had decided he was either a widower, a tax inspector, or a prince hiding from a scandal.
Luca came to the bakery each morning. He sat by the window. He bought coffee. He learned not to stare too long at the twins, though sometimes wonder escaped him.
Lena warmed first.
She had her father’s fearlessness and my inability to leave questions alone.
“Why do you wear black all the time?” she asked him on the fourth morning.
Luca looked at his suit.
“I suppose it became a habit.”
“Do you have other colors?”
“Yes.”
“Like purple?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I will consider it.”
She studied him seriously.
“Mama says considering means maybe no.”
Luca’s mouth twitched.
“Your mama is usually right.”
Ash did not speak to him for longer.
Then, on Saturday afternoon, rain returned, trapping us all in the bakery after closing. Mrs. Pike had gone to visit her nephew. I was wiping tables while the twins played under the counter with a tin of buttons.
A clap of thunder shook the windows.
Lena squealed with delight.
Ash went still.
Luca noticed before I did.
He lowered himself to the floor several feet away.
“When I was little,” he said, not looking directly at Ash, “I used to count between lightning and thunder.”
Ash’s fingers paused over the buttons.
“Why?”
“So I knew how far away the storm was.”
Ash considered this.
“How?”
“When you see the light, count slowly until the thunder comes.”
Lightning flashed.
Luca began, “One. Two. Three.”
Ash joined at four.
Thunder rolled on seven.
“Far?” Ash asked.
“Far enough.”
Ash moved one button from one pile to another.
When the next flash came, he counted by himself.
I stood frozen with a damp cloth in my hand, watching my son accept one small tool from the father he did not yet know.
Something inside me loosened.
Not forgiveness.
Not trust.
Something more dangerous.