Chapter Text
The final adoption papers are waiting with the rest of the mail when they return home from the vet. His mom pulls the tab to rip open the large flat envelope and pulls the documents out, showing him his new name. Walter Edward Graham.
“Let’s wait till your dad gets home to tell him the good news,” she says. “We can celebrate when he gets back.”
“Another secret?” Keeping secrets is a bad thing, except when it isn’t. Like the dogs getting sick. Or the news article Tommy showed him about Will being in a mental hospital. Is that a secret from his mom, or does she already know? He kind of wishes Tommy had kept it secret from him.
“A happy secret, this time,” she says.
He nods automatically. He had been happy with Will becoming his official dad. He never had that before, not that he could remember. His bio dad died when he was a baby. Having Will move into that slot seemed like a good thing, like super glue, holding them all together in the shape of a normal family.
Of course that was before the news had gotten around school that his new dad had killed someone and ended up in a mental hospital. What’s it like to kill someone? He probably shouldn’t even think about that. He doesn’t want to end up in a mental hospital.
His mom looks at him and bites her lip. Her concern is like a stick, poking at him. He ducks his head from her gaze.
“It’s quiet without the dogs here,” he says.
She stiffens with guilt, which stops the poking, so that’s okay. “Yeah, it will be good to get them back tomorrow. Come on, kiddo, help me throw out that Chinese dog food and then we can figure out dinner.”
It’s too late to go fishing like they planned, so she pulls out some frozen venison steaks. Their neighbor Mr. Bob brought them by the other day. He also offered to take Walter hunting next year on Youth Deer Weekend. Mom wasn’t so sure, but Will said that he thought it would be okay. Will wasn’t a hunter himself but he didn’t object to hunting in general. Maybe he could come too, just to watch.
His mom is distracted during dinner. Walter wonders if Will is close to catching the bad guy and coming home. He thinks about calling him, but then remembers the secrets. The sick dogs. The adoption papers. All he has to do is keep his mouth shut to keep the secrets. He doesn’t have to lie. But if he calls Will, will he really be able to keep his mouth shut? Trying to speak over the hidden secrets seems impossible. Better not to try.
At bedtime his mom is still distracted, fussing around the house, double checking the doors and windows. She tucks Walter into bed, something she hasn’t done since he was little, and puts his boots right beside the bed, and a jacket on the chair. Walter stares at her, confused.
“Just in case, baby,” she says.
“In case of what?”
“In case of trouble.” Her mouth is smiling but her eyes are grim. He wants to know what sort of trouble she’s worried about, but he knows she won’t tell him. Another secret. It’s a long time before he falls asleep. It feels like he’s barely shuts his eyes when his mom is there, shaking him awake with a finger to her lips.
Trouble has come. His heart pounds as she guides him into his boots and jacket, and then unlocks his window and helps him up to the sill.
“Wait for me by the car,” she whispers urgently. “Count to one hundred. If you see anyone else but me, run for the road.”
Anyone else but her. Which means a bad guy is in the house, and might try to get him. He hurries to the car and hides behind it, huddled against the tire, and starts counting. The night is so quiet. He strains his ears toward the house as the numbers fall quietly out of his mouth.
“31, 32, 33, 34…”
How long would it take for his mom to come to him? Or made he needs to come to her? He peeks under the car and spots her crouching under the porch. She tosses something into the woods behind her, away from the car, and the thud of heavy footsteps on the deck breaks the silence. The bad guy is right there, right there on the porch above his mom. At her frantic gestures he runs over to her, until they are both directly underneath the bad guy. A rush of fear so intense that it feels almost like joy hits Walter. Her arms clutch around him and he just wants to stay there, safe. But they aren’t safe, not even a little. She pulls away and holds out his coat. He fumbles into it, pulls on his hat and gets ready to run. His mom sets off the car alarm with the remote and then they’re off, running away from the car and into the woods, towards the road.
How long until bad guy figures out where they went? Walter starts counting again, under his breath this time, as they wait in the brush for a car to drive by. Then headlights approach and his mom jumps up. He tries to follow, but she urges him back into the shadows. She’s right there in front of the car waving her arms and oh no it’s going to hit her but it skids to a stop and she calls for him to come to her and the driver gets out to yell he’s so stupid couldn’t he see they are in real trouble and his mom shoves Walter into the back seat and tells him to get down and he cowers into the space behind the seats and there is a crack and glass showers onto his back and that’s gun fire, it didn’t sound like gun fire, it’s too quiet but it has to be a gun and the car is finally moving and there are more cracks and a thump right above him but they are moving faster and faster and they are getting away.
“Wally? Are you okay baby?”
He doesn’t correct her, doesn’t tell her that he’s called Walter now. Doesn’t tell her he isn’t a baby. Instead he stays curled up in a ball behind the seat. Is he okay?
“Walter, answer me. Are you hurt?” Her voice is high and sharp with fear.
“No,” he croaks, not recognizing his own voice. “Not hurt.”
“Oh thank god,” she says, but her voice is still strained. “I’m going to drive us to the gas station. I’m going to need you to go inside the store and tell them to call the police, and ask for an ambulance.”
But he isn’t hurt. Which means…
“Are you hurt, Mom?” He sits up then, tiny squares of broken glass falling off him as he looks over the back of the seat at her. She is driving fast with one hand on the wheel, and is breathing hard.
“Get back down! We’ll be there soon, baby. I’ll be alright.”
He tries sitting on the backseat, and then slides down into the space on the floor behind his mom. The back of her seat has a tear in the upholstery. His stomach drops. That is a bullet hole. A bullet must’ve gone through his mom.
“Mom, we need to put pressure on your wound.” He thinks about what his first aid badge instructor taught them. Control the bleeding and call for help. He needs a clean cloth.
“I know honey. As soon as we’re safe. We’ll be there soon.”
He looks up between the seat at the darkness just beyond the headlights. The car jerks and then straightens.
“Mom!:
“Almost there, almost there,” she mutters. They are going too fast around the curve and Walter slides to the side, pressing against the door. Seat belt, he needs his seat belt. But he doesn’t want to climb up on the seat, doesn’t want to sit in the broken glass. He hunkers down instead and squeezes his eyes shut.
Time passes in a bubble. He focuses on the darkness behind his eyes, and the movement of the car. His mom is breathing hard, the sound harsh over the hum of the engine. He sways again as the car makes a sharp turn, and then opens his eyes. They’ve stopped. He looks between the seats to see the light of the convenience store pour in through the windshield.
“Run inside, Wally,” his mom says through gritted teeth. “Run inside quick and have them call for help, and then move to the back of the store and hide, away from the windows.”
With a jolt he realizes she’s worried about the bad guy following them here. But she needs help. She needs help right now. He fumbles at the door handle and jumps out of the car, taking a moment to steady himself before running to the store entrance. There’s a young guy behind the counter reading a book. The bell jangles as Walter pulls the door open, but the guy doesn’t look up.
“Help!” he cries. “Call 9-1-1! My mom’s been shot!”
The guy blinks stupidly.
“9-1-1. Dial it now!” Walter is screaming, but it’s like someone else. It’s like watching a movie. Finally, finally the guy starts moving, reaching for the phone. Walter looks around and spots a rack of Vermont-themed T-shirts next to a carousel of sunglasses. He grabs one that shows a moose paddling a canoe and runs outside, back to the car. His mom’s eyes are closed, her head leaning back. He pulls open her car door.
Her eyes open blearily, and then widen when she sees him. In the light from the storefront he can see a hole in her jacket, at the shoulder.
“Go. Inside.” Her voice is weak.
He ignores her, and instead leans over to push aside the edge of her jacket. There is a dark stain on her shirt, about the size of his palm. He presses the folded T-shirt against it and pushes down. She cries out in pain.
“Hold on, mom. Help is coming. Just hold on.”
“Wally. Inside,” she chokes out.
“I’m not leaving you, mom. Just hang on.”
To his relief, he soon hears the faint sound of a siren. She must have heard it too, because she relaxes. He keeps pressing against her shoulder. The ambulance pulls up beside him. The red and while flashing lights dance across the dashboard.
“What do we got here?” It is a woman’s voice, no-nonsense. The light from a flashlight shines past Walter’s shoulder, into the interior of the car, and then onto the back of Walter’s hands as he presses down.
“It’s my mom. She was shot through the shoulder. It came through the back of the seat. I’m putting pressure on it.”
“That’s good, kid. You’re doing good. Now stand back and let me take over. We’ll take good care of her.”
Reluctantly he backs away. The store clerk stands on the sidewalk in front of the store, watching the EMT’s work.
“Dude, this is so messed up. What happened?”
Walter just shakes his head. The whole night feels like a dream, like a nightmare. A police car pulls up, blue lights flashing but no siren. A heavy-set uniformed officer climbs out of the car and exchanges a few words with the EMT’s, who are loading his mom onto a stretcher. The policeman circles around the car, surveying the damage, and then comes over to where they were standing.
“Reggie, what exactly happened here?” he asks, looking at the store clerk.
“I’m not sure, man. This little dude came running in, yelling that his mom had been shot and to call 9-1-1. That’s all I know.”
The officer looks at Walter, and then crouches down a little. His mustache is streaked with grey and his eyes are kind.
“Hello, my name is Officer Mike. What’s your name, son?” he asks softly.
“Walter. Walter Foster, um, actually it’s Walter Graham now.” He thinks about the adoption papers, sitting in the kitchen. Would the bad guy see them? Would he take them?
“Walter, that’s a great name. Can you tell me what happened to your mom?”
“The bad guy shot her, while we were trying to get away. He came into the house, and she snuck me out the window. He shot up the car so we ran for the road. She flagged down another car for help. The bad guy shot at us when we were driving away.”
Officer Mike looks over at the car, and then turns back to him.
“Did you see the bad man? Do you know who he is?”
Walter shakes his head. “I didn’t see him. But it might be the bad guy that my dad is chasing. My dad works with the F.B.I. He’s trying to catch the Tooth Fairy.”
Walter feels his stomach clench, as if saying the name would summon the man. He looks down the empty road. “I think my mom’s worried he might still be chasing us.”
Officer Mike is very alarmed at that. “Okay, kid, I need you to get into my cruiser right now. We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital, and I’ll make sure you and your mom stay safe. Reggie, go inside the store and lock it up. Put up the closed sign and turn out the lights until the state police arrive. They should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. Don’t touch the car.”
“Fuck, man!” said Reggie, but Officer Mike doesn’t react to the curse word. He shepherds Walter to his car and opens the passenger door, indicating Walter should sit up front. Walter buckles himself in, and watches as his mom is loaded into the back of the ambulance, and Reggie goes inside the store.
The ambulance speeds off, siren blaring, and they follow closely behind.
“Is my mom going to be okay?”
“Our EMT folks are the best in the country. They’re taking very good care of her.”
Which isn’t really an answer, but he couldn’t blame Officer Mike for that.
Officer Mike speaks on. “So Walter, do you know what happened to the driver?”
“The driver?”
“Of the car you were in. That your mom stopped for help.”
“Oh,” he says, blinking. He hadn’t even thought about that. “He got out of the car, and my mom made me get in and hide on the floor. I didn’t see what happened after that but I could hear gunshots. The glass broke and fell on me.”
“And this happened near your house? What’s your address?”
Walter tells him, and Officer Mike picks up his radio.
“Dispatcher, this is unit 527. Please be advised of a 10-35. Shots reported at 3770 Braeloch Lane, possible 10-41 at road nearby. Subject still at large. Notify state police and F.B.I.”
“Copy, Unit 527.”
“Unit 527 out.”
Soon they’re on the highway, and are joined by other cars. Walter starts to relax a little. Maybe they had outrun the bad guy. The sky is growing light as they pull into the hospital. Two men in suits wait out front, with badges at their waists.
“Okay, kid. These are detective Perkins and Vaughn. They’ll look after you until your dad gets here. We’ll also have some uniformed officers standing guard, just in case. Okay?”
Walter nods. “Thank you for your help.”
“Just doing my job. You did great, Walter. You should be very proud.” Officer Mike ruffles his hair and leaves.
The detectives lead him to a little waiting room and began asking questions. He tells them about the F.B.I. guy coming to the house, and how Will is helping catch the Tooth Fairy. Once more he explains what had happened at the house. The detectives want a lot more details than Office Mike. He explains about the dogs getting sick, and it occurs to him that it wasn’t a coincidence that they were sent to the vet just before the attack. It wasn’t pet food from China. They must’ve been deliberately poisoned. The sick fear in his stomach turns into a hot flush of anger. The anger feels good.
A uniformed officer interrupts. “They found his dad. He’s on the way from D.C. So are a bunch of other feds.”
The detectives nods and continues. Walter answers as best he can until finally they ran out of questions.
“Alright Walter, you’ve been doing great,” says Detective Vaughn. Or maybe it’s Detective Perkins. They are both middle-aged brown haired white men, so it’s easy to confuse them. “You’re dad should be here soon. Do you want us to find a nurse or someone to sit with you? We’ll leave the uniformed officers to protect you.”
Walter just shrugs, and pretty soon a lady wearing scrubs with cartoon animals is there. She’s carrying a blueberry muffin and a squeeze box of orange juice.
“My name’s Marise,” she says. “I thought you might be getting hungry.”
As soon as she said it, Walter’s stomach complains loudly.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the muffin and taking a long drink of the orange juice. “How’s my mom doing? Can I see her?”
“They’re prepping her for surgery right now, so no visitors. She lost a lot of blood, but they’ve gotten her stabilized. It looks like she’ll pull through okay and the doctors should be able to fix her arm. I understand that you may have saved her life. Sadie said that you managed to slow the bleeding until they took over.”
He shrugs. “I’m in the boy scouts. We learned about first aid.”
“But still, you kept your cool. Not everyone can do that. You should be proud.”
He doesn’t feel proud. He mostly feels angry.
“Do you want to lie down? I can get you a pillow and blankets. It’s going to be a few hours before your dad gets here.”
He doesn’t feel sleepy, but the idea of closing his eyes and pulling a blanket over his head sounds good. Soon he’s stretched out across a small couch with a pillow under his head. Marise spreads a warmed blanket over him; it feels wonderful.
“We have a special warming oven for them; it helps with shock. Rest well, Walter. I’ll wake you if there’s any news.”
Walter closes his eyes. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but soon a hand on his shoulder shakes him awake. It’s that old African American guy, the one who had come to the house.
“Hey, champ. I’m sorry to wake you, but we need to have a chat before your dad gets here. You remember me?”
Walter sits up and rubs his eyes. “Yeah, you’re the man who came to the house to take my dad away. To hunt that crazy guy. Who is probably the same guy who came after us.”
“Jack Crawford. And yeah, it looks like it’s the same guy. We found carving on one of the trees on your property. It looks like this. Did you notice it?”
Mr. Crawford shows him a photo of a crooked rectangle with a slash through it. Walter shakes his head.
“Does this mean he was there the whole time? Watching us?”
“Scouting you.”
“And he came after us because of my dad?”
Mr Crawford sighs. “It looks like that. You know your dad’s very special, right?”
Walter shrugs. “I guess.”
“I think the Tooth Fairy’s afraid of him. He knows Will is going to help us catch him, but Will was too protected for the Tooth Fairy to get to him. So he went after you guys instead, thinking it would distract him from his job. I hope it doesn’t work. You guys are safe now, so I’m hoping Will will be back on the case soon.”
Mr. Crawford is smiling but in a fake way. Walter realizes that the agent is worried his dad will want to stay with them instead of going back to Washington. But if the F.B.I. doesn’t catch the guy, then they’ll never be safe. Walter nods at the unasked question. He won’t try to keep Will home.
He doesn’t feel much like talking anymore, and the Blue Jays game won’t start until one o’clock, so he grabs a kid’s magazine from the rack and starts flipping through it. Mr. Crawford doesn’t try to talk further, so that’s good. It’s maybe twenty minutes later before Will rushes in and sits awkwardly next to him. Mr. Crawford leaves them alone with the guards.
“Your mom is in surgery now.”
Will isn’t looking directly at him, but that’s normal. It’s just the way that he is. Walter wonders if maybe he’ll share more information about the situation than his boss.
“Is there anything else I should know, to see about mom?” Walter asks.
His dad is looking at him now, with earnest eyes. “You’re both safe here.”
That’s not what Walter asked. “This crazy guy wants to kill you?”
“No, well, we don’t know what he wants.”
Except for the fact that he wants Walter’s mom dead for some reason. “You gonna kill him?”
“No. I’m going to catch him. They’ll put him in a mental hospital so that they can treat him and keep him from hurting anybody else.”
Walter’s stomach drops. A mental hospital is the last place he wants this guy to go. Hospital’s were too easy to get out of. Which his dad should know, if he really had been in such a place.
“Tommy’s mom had this little newspaper article. Said you killed a guy and you were put in a mental hospital. Is it true?”
“Yes, Yes,” says Will, but offers no further explanation. “It bothers you, finding that out? Because I married your mom?”
Walter grits his teeth. As if finding out was the worst part of the whole thing. He’d been happy when Will married his mom, because it made her so happy. They were like a picture-book couple. Will always seemed more interested in being a husband than being a father, even with the adoption going forward, but that was okay as long as Walter’s mom was happy. That’s why he’s always careful to call Will “dad,” because it makes his mom so very happy.
But now she had almost died because she was married to Will.
“You shouldn’t put this guy in a mental hospital. You should kill him.” He glances at the clock and sees it's after one o’clock. “I want to watch baseball.”
He moves over to the TV and turns it on. Will leaves then, which is just as well. It’s what Walter wanted. Really.
* * * * *
The Jays lose, which sucks but is not surprising. Walter is flipping through channels to see what else was on when Will returns.
“Your mom’s awake,” he says. “The surgery went well. She wants to see you, but keep in mind she’ll get tired easy.”
TV forgotten, Walter follows to where his mom lay, connected to machines, with a big bandage around her shoulder. She looks so tired, but her smile is real. Something inside Walter loosens. She is holding out her hand, and he grabs for it.
“Here’s my hero,” she says. “I’m so proud of you, you were so brave.”
Walter opens his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Will smiling a real smile, too, although there’s a sadness lurking in his eyes.
“I’ll leave you two to chat. But remember about not tiring your mom out, okay?”
Walter nods and Will gives his shoulder a squeeze and leaves.
“So have they been feeding you?” she asks. “Did you get some rest?”
“Yeah, the nurse brought some food, and I took a nap. Then I watched the Jays lose.”
She sighs and ruffles his hair. “Well they call it a wild card playoff for a reason. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. It wasn’t the worst thing that had happened today. “Mom, can I ask you a question? It’s kind of a touchy subject.”
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“Did you know about dad, when you married him? About the mental hospital and everything?”
She frowns, but not in a mad way. “How did this come up?”
“Tommy showed me this article.”
Now she looks mad. “Well you can’t believe everything you read. There’s this one reporter, named Freddie Lounds, who writes terrible lies.”
“But dad said that it was true. That he killed a man, and was in a mental hospital.”
“Yeah, that part’s true, but it’s a small part in very long and complicated story. I’ll explain it to you another day, but not right now. Don’t bother your dad about it, though. He’s suffered enough.”
“And you knew the story, and married him anyways?”
She is smiling again, but not at him. It’s that dopey smile she gets when she was thinking about Will, the one that made Walter glad that Will asked her to marry him.
“In part, I married him because of his past, honey. The fact he went through that, and came out on the other side. We have a lot in common that way.”
Walter frowns in confusion. “But you haven’t killed anyone.”
The dopey smile runs off her face, and she squeezes his hand hard. His heart starts thumping.
“Mom? Did you kill someone?” he asks. “Tell me.”
She takes a deep breath. “You know how I don’t like to talk about your birth father, honey?”
He nods. “You said he wasn’t a good person, and you would explain more when I was older.”
She sighs. “Yeah, I guess after last night you’re officially older. Is this really something you want to know right now?”
“Yes!” he says, a jolt of excitement humming through him like electricity. He’d almost given up hearing this story. His mom usually shuts down so completely when the subject comes up.
“Okay then,” she says, but then falls silent. She stares at him, but it's like she’s looking at something far away. He holds onto her hand and just waits. After what seems like forever, she continues.
“I was very young when I met your dad, just out of high school. I didn’t get along with my folks, and they kicked me out as soon as I turned eighteen.”
Walter frowns. He wants to ask more, but also doesn’t want to interrupt her now that she’s talking.
“Your birth father - his name was Walter, too, although he went by Walt - was the assistant manager at a restaurant where I was waiting tables. I was so flattered when he started flirting with me. He was older, of course, and handsome and charming. One thing led to another, and I got pregnant. With you.”
Her eyes were misty now, and she let go of his hand to brush her fingers through his hair.
“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You are still the best thing. But Walt changed after you were born. He became more controlling, and then abusive. Mostly name calling, but sometimes he hit me. He was always sorry afterwards, and was extra nice for a while. So I forgave him. I didn’t feel like I had a lot of choices back then. Plus, he was good with you. You were such a happy baby, and he loved spending time playing with you. I could forgive a lot, for that.”
He holds his breath, and then lets it out. “What happened?”
“You remember when you were really little, and had to have an inhaler for asthma?” At his nod she continues on. “Your birth father like to smoke, which is very bad for babies with asthma. I always made him smoke outside. But then one night I came home to find him passed out with a cigarette still smouldering on a plate next to him, and you in the playpen turning blue. If I’d been even a few minutes later you’d have been dead.”
Tears roll down her cheeks, and Walter wonders if he should tell her that she could stop talking. But he wants to hear what happened. Finally she goes on.
“I left you at the hospital and came home to find that Walt hadn’t even realized that you were gone. I was so mad. I started yelling at him, and he yelled back, and then started hitting me. He wouldn’t stop, so I grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed him. He died pretty quickly.”
It feels like the world was frozen, that there’s nothing except the two of them here in this room.
“Did you have to go to a mental hospital?” he asks,
She blinks, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “No baby, I didn’t. The police thought it was self-defense. I was fine.”
Walter frowns. “Wasn’t it self defense?”
She froze. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. It must be the pain medication talking.”
“Mom! Please, tell me. I. . .I really need you to tell me the truth, now. No secrets. Please”
She takes a deep shuddering breath. “Okay, but this isn’t a story to share outside the family. Agreed?”
He nods, holding his breath.
“It was self-defense. Walt was hitting me. He could have hurt me badly, maybe even killed me. But I deliberately made him mad. I said the worst things I could think of, and I did it in the kitchen, standing next to the knife rack, on purpose. Because he almost killed you, baby, and refused to take responsibility. And I would do anything, anything, to protect you. You are my life, Walter.”
She’s crying hard now, and he’s crying too. He leans over her to hug her, careful of her bandages.
“It’s okay, mom. I love you. You did the right thing. Thanks for telling me.”
He grabs the box of tissues from the table beside her, and hands some to her. They blow their noses at the same time, and laugh.
“I love you, baby,” she says, her eyes drooping.
“Love you too, mom. Go ahead and sleep. I wasn’t supposed to make you tired. I’ll go find dad.”
She just smiles and closes her eyes.
Walter finds Will in the hallway. Will’s glance flicks over Walter’s face and then he looks away. He makes no comment about Walter crying.
“You hungry?” Will asks. “The cafeteria just opened for dinner.”
It had been a long time since the blueberry muffin, so Walter nods. Two guys in FBI windbreakers follow them silently as they grab some sandwiches and chips, and take them back to the waiting area.
“So the surgery was a success,” says Will, watching Walter eat, his own food untouched. “Your mom should be able to leave the hospital in a couple of days.”
“Will I stay here too?”
“No, some FBI agents will take you to a safe house. The dogs will be there. They’ve all recovered and will be happy to see you.”
Not as happy as Walter. He imagines burying his face in Winston’s ruff while the other dogs circle around him. Guarding him. It sounds like heaven.
“Are you leaving? To go after the bad guy?”
Will nods. “I’m going to have to leave to catch my flight pretty soon.”
“And if this bad guy attacks you, then you can kill him, right? Because it would be self-defense.”
Will’s eyes focus on Walter now, his gaze intense. After a long pause, he speaks.
“I have some dark things in my past, Walter. Things I don’t talk about. But I never, ever meant for those things to touch you, or your mom. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I understand. But that doesn’t matter. Just make sure this guy can’t ever hurt mom or the dogs again, okay?”
Will is still looking right at him, and then his face shifts. It’s really weird, like a mannequin coming to life. Like Will hasn’t really been fully alive until that moment. His gaze is too much, it feels like standing in front of the whole class for an oral report. Walter squirms and looks away.
“I promise I will do whatever it takes to keep you guys safe,” Will says, and the words feel bigger than their sounds. “You need to promise me something, too, okay?”
“What is it?”
“Promise me you’ll always remember what a great kid you are. You are smart and strong and brave, and no matter what happens, you are going to be okay. Deal?”
“Deal,” he says, and is swept into a hug. They didn’t normally hug much, but it feels good to be held firmly in his dad’s arms. Like a promise being kept.
Will kisses his forehead and stands up.
“Look after your mom,” he says, and leaves.
It will be seven and a half years before Walter sees him again.