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“Theroyalfamily,” she reminds me. “You forget that not everyone is used to that.”
“I guess.”
Abigail glances through the fireplace into the bedroom. “My bet is Hettie is wandering around, trying to get back here, so maybe you should go track her down.” She gives me a knowing glance. “It might be a good idea to talk a little as well.”
“That was my plan.”
“Good boy. I’ll keep the child occupied for as long as you need.”
I head for the door, pausing before I leave. “Abigail?”
“Bo?”
“Is she happy there? In Canada?”
Abigail opens her mouth as if to speak, then shuts it, pressing her lips tight together. “As much as I want to interfere, I really can’t,” she admits. “I have to leave it up to the two of you to figure it out.”
“I was hoping you’d… maybe you’d let me know…” It sounds so childish to finish the thought. “Never mind.”
“I can’t tell you if you have a shot because I don’t know if you’re ready for that shot,” Abigail says, reading my mind like our friendship hasn’t been stretched by time and distance. “And if you’re not ready, there’s no point, because it’s not just the two of you that would get hurt.” She takes a step toward me, close enough to poke her finger into my chest. “I willdestroyanyone who hurts that little girl,” she hisses.
Abigail is pretty short, so I have to smile to see her threaten me.
“Do not smile, Bowden Erickson. I know where all the bodies are hidden. I remember you are afraid ofzombies—”
“Zombies?” Tema calls out. “Like the Walking Dead?”
“It was a mistake to let you watch that and you promised never to mention it,” Abigail throws over her shoulder. “One time,” she says to me. “Ten minutes.”
“I have lost all respect for your parenting abilities,” I tell her with mock sadness. “How could you let her near that show?”
“Just because you can’t handle it, big boy,” she teases.
I snort and then reach out to pull Abigail into a hug. “I missed having you around,” I tell her in a gruff voice.
“Of course you did.” But the way her arms tighten around me suggests she might have missed me too. “Now go find your girl.”
My girl.
I find Hettie wandering the hall with the family pictures, from the most recent family shots of Odin’s wedding to a painting of my great-grandfather, the first king of Laandia.
From the look on her face, I can tell she has no idea how to get back to her room.
“You lost?” Her face lights up when she sees me, but then the light dies right away, like she doesn’t want to let herself be happy to see me. I’m not sure what to think about that. She asked for a divorce. There’s someone else, someone important enough to try and make a clean break with me. It will never be a clean break. Even without Tema in the picture—and she is the whole picture now—my heart has always told me that Hettie belongs to me. Shehas my entire heart and that won’t change regardless of our marital status.
“You’ll figure out your way around soon enough,” I tell her.
“I might not be here long enough for that.”
The thought of her leaving again makes my stomach clench, but I do my best to hide any reaction. Instead, I point to the painting of Leif Erickson. “It’s all his fault, you know.”
“What is?” She moves down the hall toward me, like we’re a set of magnets drawn to each other.
At least that’s how it is with me. Even with Hettie all the way on the west coast of Canada, I’ve always felt the pull. There’s always been a tug with a little voice constantly in my head: “Go get her.”
I’ve managed to ignore it because I’ve been more afraid of what I’d find if I went to get her.
“He’s the one who wanted to be king,” I tell her, staring at my great-grandfather. There’s some resemblance to Dad, with the shaggy red-gold hair streaked with white, and Odin, with the serious expression. “I’ve always wondered if it would have been better if he’d left it alone.”