Connor doesn’t say anything, because they both know he’s right—and it ticks Connor off.
“My point is that you’re afraid of going back to being that same screwup you were two years ago—but I don’t see it happening.”
“And why is that, O wise clapper tithe?”
Lev throws him a dirty look, but lets it go. “You’re kind of like Humphrey Dunfee. We both are. Torn apart by everything that’s happened to us, then put back together again. Who you are now is nothing like who you used to be.”
Connor considers it and nods, accepting Lev’s observation. It’s a comfort to know that Lev truly thinks he’s changed, but Connor’s not all that convinced.
• • •
Two things happen at dinner that night. Which of the two is worse depends on one’s particular perspective.
Elina arrives home just after dark, followed by Pivane, who brings a pot of rabbit stew he’s had simmering all day. Connor is thankful he didn’t have to see the animal skinned and prepared. As long as there’s no bunny face in the stew, he’ll be fine. At the dinner table, Kele is all blabber about how the kids with predatory animals as their spirit guides have started to bully the kids with tamer animal spirits.
“It’s soooo unfair—and I know that half those kids made up their animals on their vision quest anyway.”
It makes Connor think of Lucas—his own brother—who turned every little event in middle school into high drama. Connor gets a sudden chill from the memory. Not because he thought of his brother—but because he realizes how long it’s been since he’s thought about him at all. Lucas would now be getting close to the age Connor was when he kicked-AWOL.
“Could somebody pass the stew down this way?” Connor asks. Better to focus on the food than get caught in a minefield of reflection.
“They’ll get over themselves,” Pivane tells Kele. “And if they don’t, they’ll pay the price for it in the end. Birds fly north as well as south,” which Connor assumes is the Arápache version of “What goes around, comes around.”
“Hello!” calls Conner to the end of the table. “We need some stew down here.”
While Lev has patience to wait, Connor’s hunger demands attention.
Grace, who always sits right next to Elina, has filled her bowl to overflowing. The tureen is in front of Elina, but she doesn’t notice because she’s also involved in Kele’s drama.
“I can’t tell you how many injuries I see at the medical lodge because kids think their animal guides will protect them from broken bones.”
Then Connor calls loud and clear: “Mom! Pass the stew!”
It’s the way that Lev snaps his eyes to Connor that makes Connor realize what he’s just said. The feeling of normalcy—the thoughts of family—somehow made the word surface like an unexpected belch.
Everyone looks to Connor like he just dropped a turd on the table.
“I mean, just—pass the stew. Please.”
Elina passes the stew to him, and Connor thinks his slip can just slip on by until Kele says, “You let him call you Mom now? I don’t even get to call you Mom.”
After that, no one knows where to pick up the conversation, and so Elina decides to drive the nail home rather than let it sit halfway to nowhere.
“Do I remind you of her, Connor?”
Connor ladles himself stew and answers without looking at her. “Not really. But dinner’s kind of the same.”
“Betcha didn’t have rabbit,” says Grace through a mouthful of stew.
Connor wishes that some sort of black hole could suck away everyone’s attention from this embarrassing faux pas. About five seconds later, Connor gets schooled in being careful for what he wishes.
The main window in the great room suddenly shatters, and stone chips fly from a small hole in the back wall—a hole that hadn’t been there a second ago.
“Down!” Connor yells. “Under the table! Now!” He has instantly flipped into battle mode and takes charge. He doesn’t know if anyone else realizes it was a bullet, but they’ll figure it out. What matters is that he gets them out of harm’s way. Everyone does as they’re told. “Kele—no, over here—out of the window’s sight lines!”
As Kele moves closer, Connor bolts across the room to the light switches and turns them off, leaving them in darkness, so the shooter can’t see them. With sudden adrenaline pumping through his retinas, his eyes adjust remarkably quickly to the dark.
“Pivane!” cries Elina. “Call the police.”
“We can’t call the police,” he says. That realization hits them all at once. If they call the police, they’ll have to explain why they were shot at. Connor, Lev, and Grace will be exposed.
Then Pivane stands up and strides toward the shattered window.
“Pivane!” yells Connor. “What are you, crazy? Get down!”
But Pivane just stands there. It’s Grace who points out what only she and Pivane have come to understand.
“That shot was all the way across the room,” Grace says. “Kinda like in old war movies. A shot across our bow. They didn’t mean to kill no one.”
“A warning?” suggests Lev.
“A message,” answers Pivane. Still, the rest are reluctant to move from under the table.
Connor steps away from the light switch to stand next to Pivane, looking out into the darkness. There are some lights in the homes across ravine. It could have come from just about anywhere. There is no second shot.