As Shad walked along the driveway toward the front porch, he couldn’t miss the dark red, late model pickup he had parked his own truck behind. Shad rarely made assumptions, but he presumed it must belong to Vic. The truck, unlike his own, was immaculate and shiny and dent free. Vic worked as phlebotomist in the hospital, so Shad presumed Tess’s brother was one of those people Pap once complained about who would steal into his room at wee hours of the morning and draw blood. When Pap griped about the procedure to Karl, Jill’s husband leaned toward the bed and asked if Pap wanted him to bring a braid of garlic and his old rosary with its crucifix to hang around Pap’s neck.

At least Vic’s night hours freed him up during part of the day to assist Monica. That also allowed Charissa to become better acquainted with the man she had formerly met only a few times at large family gatherings. Shad wanted to remove as much trauma as he could from Charissa’s transition.

Shad left his suit coat in the pickup, and the afternoon heat made him not only roll up his sleeves but also loosen his tie more than usual and undo the top two buttons of the light purple shirt. As Shad strode up the two steps of the shadeless porch it crossed his mind that a century ago, in days without air conditioning, people wore full-length underwear to protect the clothes they wore from their own sweaty and oily bodies. No wonder people had shorter life spans back then.

He rang the doorbell, and only a few seconds passed before none other than Vic opened the door.

“Oh yes, Mr. Delaney.” Vic smiled broadly. “It’s good to see you here.”

“Good afternoon.” Shad nodded. “I hope I haven’t missed out on the opportunity to speak with Charissa.”

“I don’t think so.” Vic stepped aside and motioned into the house. “I asked her about it earlier today and all she would say was you were the only one she could tell.”

“Doesn’t sound like much has changed.” Shad stepped into the carpeted living room and immediately felt a little crowded. There seemed to be plenty of matching furniture in the room accompanied by more accoutrements than he was accustomed to. Tables grouped around the chairs were generally filled with doilies and cloths spread underneath the lamps and knick-knacks. The walls were also bedecked with pictures and photographs, and shelves displayed even more items that probably reflected memories or interests. “Where’s Monica?”

“She went to lie down in the bedroom right after you called.” Vic closed the door. “Her energy level is starting to drop. Usually takes a nap around this time of day or at least has to get some rest.” Vic shook his head. “I’ll go see if she’s fallen asleep or not. She told me if she did to go ahead and send you to Charissa’s room, and she’d talk with you when you’re done and she has more time to wake up.”

Shad nodded. “I’ll wait right here.”

As he watched Vic stroll into a hallway to the right side of the room, Shad felt a tremor of apprehension. After what happened to him yesterday, he only now realized that his discussion with Charissa would probably be conducted in private. Before yesterday evening that event wouldn’t have caused him any concern, but now dread crept upon him as Shad wondered if the old adversary would surface again.

Vic returned in less than half a minute. “She’s asleep. I’ll take you to Charissa.”

“Thank you,” Shad muttered.

He followed Vic down a hallway to the left side of the room. More pictures and shelves adorned the walls. Three doors broke up the pattern of the decorations, and all were ajar. Vic stopped at the last one and softly rapped on the painted trim.

“Charissa? Sweetheart? Mr. Delaney is here to talk to you.”

Shad didn’t hear Charissa’s response but Vic nudged the door wider and stepped into the room. When Shad followed him in he saw the girl curled in a sitting position on the floor at the foot of her twin-sized bed. She wore green jersey shorts and a light green tee shirt with a print of a kitten on the front. Charissa had a picture book opened on her lap, and other books as well as toys were scattered around her on the bed and on the floor. She watched them with a somber expression that didn’t change.

“Hello, Charissa.” Shad smiled although he still felt crowded. Charissa’s room was disheveled as kids’ rooms often were, but the sheer volume of toys and furniture and decorations on the walls seemed to close in on him. It was as though that mild agoraphobia of his was now reacting to objects.

The most toys Shad ever had as a child was when Wally lived with them, and even then he never had this many. After Wally left, all of Shad’s toys were thrown away, or those that could bring money were sold by one of the boyfriends so he could buy more cigarettes. When Shad moved in with the Delaneys he mostly “inherited” the same few classic toys that had been kept around the house for generations.

Charissa looked from him to Vic and back again. “I wondered if you’d really come,” she said in a voice that matched her expression.

Shad almost felt that knife-to-the-heart sensation. “I said I’d be here. And I really do wish we could’ve talked yesterday.”

Charissa stared at him but didn’t answer.

“I’ll let you two get down to business.” Vic shrugged and slipped behind Shad to step out of the room. “Should I close the door?”

“No,” Shad immediately replied as a flash of panic shot through him.

“I don’t want it left open,” Charissa stated bluntly as she continued to gaze at Shad.

“Why not?” His question was genuine.

“I don’t want them to listen.” Charissa looked down at the book in her lap. “Especially not Mom.”

Shad blew out a long exhale and glanced at Vic. “Leave it ajar.”

“You’re the boss.” Vic shrugged and pulled the door until only a crack of light was left between it and the frame.

As Shad’s attention returned to Charissa he fervently hoped the brewing terror inside him would overcome any other physiological response he might have. When the malady had haunted him years ago, an opportunity like this had never presented itself before either naturally or through Shad’s orchestration. Although he didn’t question his ability to control his conduct, Shad also didn’t want to encourage this disorder to continue reestablishing itself.

A few seconds of silence passed before Charissa spoke. “You’re not really fired, are you?”

A twang of guilt added to his discomfort. “Not legally, no.” Shad wasn’t comforted with the thought that the more he practiced law the better he got at dodging around the truth. “I was ... sort of playing a game. I wanted you to feel better. So I let you dismiss me even though ... your mom is the one with the ultimate authority to do that. Legally.”

Charissa looked down at the book again. “I would hear Mom talking with Uncle Eliot and Aunt Tess. They talk about you a lot, about things you’re gonna do.”

Shad wondered if the adults were discussing this openly in front of Charissa or if she was eavesdropping on what they believed was a private conversation. “I’m sorry. I thought it would help you to feel better. I know things are hard for you right now, and I’m just trying to make some of it a little easier.”

Charissa’s gaze returned to his face. “Did you mean it when you said you’re my lawyer?”

Shad didn’t feel right gazing so far down at the child. “I meant it.” He lowered himself to the floor and sat with his legs crisscross. “The reason I’m working for your mom is because I wanna be sure you’re gonna be taken care of.”

“Then you have to stop the divorce.”

Shad wished he was more adept at reading expressions. “Why?”

Charissa looked at the book again. “If you really want to do what’s best for me, you’ll stop the divorce.”

Shad stared at her as Charissa continued to gaze downward. It was natural for children to resist divorce. They didn’t want to see their family, which was their world, torn apart. They didn’t want to feel abandoned by a parent. They didn’t want to feel guilty because they suspected they were the cause of the breakup. Charissa was completely powerless to stop her mom from dying, so why wouldn’t she grasp at one thing where she might be able to exert some control? Why wouldn’t she try to get rid of the attorney who had initiated those proceedings?