“Something smells good over here.”
“That’s the onions sautéing in garlic and butter. It always smells good.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna feed you.”
“Merritt, were people yelling before?”
“Yes. Your aunt and uncle don’t want you and Cole moving in with me, but that’s what I want and what he wants, and I hope you will too.”
“Will I have my own room?
“Of course.”
“Can we get a dog?”
“Certainly. I love dogs. We can go to the shelter.”
He nodded. “It’s really beautiful here, and it smells good, like rain, and the fire makes it nice and warm and… I have bad dreams,” he blurted out.
“I’m sorry.”
“But I feel like, maybe, I won’t have bad dreams here.”
“I hope that will be the case.”
“Is it okay if I call you Mere? I didn’t ask before.”
“Of course.”
“Where’s my room?”
I pointed. “Right over there.”
“Under the arch with the hobbit door?”
“Would we call that a hobbit door?” I didn’t love that. They were double doors, and nothing was round. Nothing Bilbo Baggins about it.
“It’s awesome.”
“Okay, then. Go see the room.”
He scrambled off the barstool and ran. After I was done prepping the quiche and putting it into the oven, I flipped a dishtowel over my shoulder and went to see what he thought.
I found him sitting on the floor on a thick, soft rug made from jute and cotton and wool, staring at the fire blazing away in the small hearth.
“I love that there’s a fireplace in here,” he told me. “And I’ll make sure it’s out before I leave to go to school.”
“Well, I can do that too. I got these going before I left today, and they’ve been safe for years, so even if you forget, it’s okay.”
“I won’t forget.” He lifted his head, looking up at the cave-like ceiling. “Was this room dug out of the side of a mountain?”
“Well, a hill on this far side. It felt safe to me to have it be out of the wind.”
“It was hard to see much in the dark.”
“I know. I’ll show you around properly tomorrow since I can’t imagine you’re going to school. Maybe I can get Teague to come down and walk you farther than the grounds if you’re up to it.”