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witticasterWhen Sebastian arrived, it was not his clear blue eyes that gave William reason to suspect, nor the orange shock of hair hanging nearly into his eyes. The first twinge of wonderment came from the way Archie shifted in his chair as the car came up along the long drive. William caught the motion from the corner of his eye, looking out into the distance and thinking vaguely on his sister Jessie as he was, and frowned, glancing over at the man. Before he could ask Archie if something was wrong, he realized that Archie was still pretending to read his book and glancing up towards the vehicle, still a ways off.
Any other day, he would have assumed that the car was simply a traveling salesman and readied his gun, but Archie wouldn't have paid it any mind until it parked at the edge of the fence. This one, he was watching--and he didn't want William to know he was doing any such thing.
Sometimes William was unobservant, and he knew this. Years ago, when his little sister Patience tried to dye her hair into a beautiful platinum blonde like women in the pictures, he might not have realized what had brought about the streaked, spotted mess of curls piled on her head if not for his mother yelling fit to wake everyone in the house up early on a Saturday morning. Very often, William was stupid, something he knew to be an absolute truth. He need only look at one of the books in the parlor and try to decipher the lines of poetry that Archie happily devoured to prove it to any man alive. But he wasn't so slow a man that he couldn't figure out what was going on, at least in part.
Archie knew that car was coming, and whatever it was, he wasn't ready for it.
William first wondered if it was something about the military that had him nervous, for he could think of nothing that put Archie so on edge so quickly as discussion of the war. He hadn't reckoned the sight of a pretty young woman and a little boy with a patent interest in the dirt beneath his feet could have Archie so jumpy.
The boy was staying with them--for how long, his mother didn't say--and calling them Uncle William and Uncle Archie, and this was a surprise only to one of them. When she drove off and they walked the kid up the front steps of the porch, William sat back down and considered him. Sebastian. Sebastian--Kennedy? It stood to reason he was a relative of Archie's, considering that he wasn't perplexed by the sudden appearance of an eight year old boy.
William had met Archie's family, though, or had thought he had, all thoroughly Scottish and--as far as he could tell--confined to the British Isles. The obvious answer made itself known to him at that moment, but he dismissed it as preposterous. Perhaps Archie had some more distant relatives who were American. American and perhaps not so well-off as the Kennedys of Scotland were. Poor, American, and able to leave Archie wincing before they even arrived.
If there was some reason for him to be so skittish at the thought of that woman and her little boy, so much so that William had to nudge him into getting the kid something to drink, then he could lay the entire matter to rest. But though Archie's demons seemed many and sometimes inexplicable, the fact that he did not tell William that they were taking in a stray still needled at him. Archie at least made the pretense of getting William's opinion on a new cat, a boughten one, even though they both knew William would never say no--especially not now that Archie had made his last birthday present a hound. That he'd assume William wouldn't mind a kid around without question was a difficult fact to reconcile.
And so William studied Sebastian when he came back out, glancing down at his woodwork and back over to the boy. He held a glass of iced tea in both hands, sipping it like he might not get another crack at the supply if he gulped it down, and stared out into the distance. His hair matched Archie's in shade, if not in texture, and his eyes were the right blue. The way he moved wasn't the same, but--as far as William knew--they'd never seen each other before.
Left without a better explanation, William suspected he would have to consider the possibility that this boy was Archie's.
Any other day, he would have assumed that the car was simply a traveling salesman and readied his gun, but Archie wouldn't have paid it any mind until it parked at the edge of the fence. This one, he was watching--and he didn't want William to know he was doing any such thing.
Sometimes William was unobservant, and he knew this. Years ago, when his little sister Patience tried to dye her hair into a beautiful platinum blonde like women in the pictures, he might not have realized what had brought about the streaked, spotted mess of curls piled on her head if not for his mother yelling fit to wake everyone in the house up early on a Saturday morning. Very often, William was stupid, something he knew to be an absolute truth. He need only look at one of the books in the parlor and try to decipher the lines of poetry that Archie happily devoured to prove it to any man alive. But he wasn't so slow a man that he couldn't figure out what was going on, at least in part.
Archie knew that car was coming, and whatever it was, he wasn't ready for it.
William first wondered if it was something about the military that had him nervous, for he could think of nothing that put Archie so on edge so quickly as discussion of the war. He hadn't reckoned the sight of a pretty young woman and a little boy with a patent interest in the dirt beneath his feet could have Archie so jumpy.
The boy was staying with them--for how long, his mother didn't say--and calling them Uncle William and Uncle Archie, and this was a surprise only to one of them. When she drove off and they walked the kid up the front steps of the porch, William sat back down and considered him. Sebastian. Sebastian--Kennedy? It stood to reason he was a relative of Archie's, considering that he wasn't perplexed by the sudden appearance of an eight year old boy.
William had met Archie's family, though, or had thought he had, all thoroughly Scottish and--as far as he could tell--confined to the British Isles. The obvious answer made itself known to him at that moment, but he dismissed it as preposterous. Perhaps Archie had some more distant relatives who were American. American and perhaps not so well-off as the Kennedys of Scotland were. Poor, American, and able to leave Archie wincing before they even arrived.
If there was some reason for him to be so skittish at the thought of that woman and her little boy, so much so that William had to nudge him into getting the kid something to drink, then he could lay the entire matter to rest. But though Archie's demons seemed many and sometimes inexplicable, the fact that he did not tell William that they were taking in a stray still needled at him. Archie at least made the pretense of getting William's opinion on a new cat, a boughten one, even though they both knew William would never say no--especially not now that Archie had made his last birthday present a hound. That he'd assume William wouldn't mind a kid around without question was a difficult fact to reconcile.
And so William studied Sebastian when he came back out, glancing down at his woodwork and back over to the boy. He held a glass of iced tea in both hands, sipping it like he might not get another crack at the supply if he gulped it down, and stared out into the distance. His hair matched Archie's in shade, if not in texture, and his eyes were the right blue. The way he moved wasn't the same, but--as far as William knew--they'd never seen each other before.
Left without a better explanation, William suspected he would have to consider the possibility that this boy was Archie's.
