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The smell of breakfast hits me as soon as I walk in the front door of my brother’s house. Cinnamon, bacon and coffee and the sounds of excited children come from the kitchen. I think I should bring Blue. She’d like this.
I stop myself at that thought. We’re not playing house, Blue and I. I need to remember that.
I hear my brother’s voice just as I get to the kitchen. He’s still in his clothes from last night. His jacket is gone, and his sleeves are rolled up as he stands at the stove helping Angelique flip a pancake while Cynthia juices oranges.
Our mother moved to a small house in town when Isabelle and Jericho moved in full time but she’s here often babysitting.
Isabelle is sitting at the table with Matty and Christian at her side. Adan is in a bouncy chair playing with a toy dangling from it. She’s the first to see me.
“There you are,” she says, her expression worried, her eyes tired as she tries to smile.
Jericho turns to me. I see the energy it’s taking him to put on this show of normality for the family.
“Uncle Zeke! You made it!” Angelique rushes to me, and I crouch down to catch her when she throws herself into my arms. She’s grown taller. I’ve seen the subtle changes in her over FaceTime, but it’s so different seeing her in person.
“I couldn’t pass up pancakes with my favorite niece,” I say, lifting her up, wondering if I should be touching her at all with hands capable of such violence. Hands that just hours ago were stained with the blood of two dead men.
She wraps her arms around my neck to hug me tight. “I’m your only niece,” she says when she draws back, an expression very similar to my brother’s on her face.
“That is true but still.”
Her forehead furrows and she turns my face with her small hands. “You’re hurt, Uncle Zeke.”
Jericho carries a plate of pancakes to the counter, wary eyes on me.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
“You too? Mom broke her arm dancing last night. She’s going to get a hot pink cast.”
“Is she?” I ask, setting Angelique down and glancing at Isabelle who helps Christian climb into one of the seats at the counter.
“Guess I’m a little bit clumsy too,” Isabelle says. “How is Blue?”
“Sleeping.”
Isabelle seems relieved.
“Who’s Blue?” Angelique asks, not missing a beat.
“No one,” Jericho interjects. “Sit down and have your pancakes.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically at her dad, which offers Isabelle and I momentary comic relief. “Do you want chocolate chip or blueberry?” Angelique asks me, already making me a plate.
“One of each,” I say as I greet the other children who don’t know me as well and are less comfortable around me.
My brother leans against the counter drinking coffee. He watches his family, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. Somehow, I smile and say all the appropriate things as Angelique tells me about school and what she’s doing today while we eat our pancakes. Fifteen minutes later, Jericho clears his throat.
“Cynthia, can you give Isabelle a hand getting the little ones ready for school.”
“Of course,” Cynthia says.
Isabelle mutters something in Jericho’s ear and he nods. “Don’t worry,” he tells her, before we leave the kitchen and head to his office.
“How is Isabelle really?” I ask.
“Exhausted. We just walked in about half an hour ago. Not to mention she’s very worried about you. And about Blue. She’s pregnant, Brother. I don’t want her stressed.”
“Neither do I.”
