Author's notes:
Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! It's awesome to see you are still enjoying the story. ❤ I wish I could post more frequently but unfortunately I just can't right now.
Anyway, if all goes well I'll post the next chapter in three weeks (Tuesday 29.12).
Update (29.12): I'm very sorry. It's Tuesday, but I don't have a new chapter for you yet. I think I should have the chapter ready by Sunday (03.01). If not, I'll let you know.
The illustration for this chapter you can either find on my DoodleAddicts account (…/vincentthecat/) or on the story Rooftops of New York that I post on Archive Of Our Own (VincentTheCat).
Chapter 12 "Satch's Mum"
"Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated,
it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury,
it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.
It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NABRE)
"Come on," Elle said, her heart still hammering in her chest from the run. "Let's grab something to eat." She turned away from the child, praying that he would follow her.
A moment later, the child caught up with her, his hand still gripping Satch's leash tightly. Elle smiled.
"I know a nice restaurant where they let in owners with pets. It's just round the corner," she said and the boy nodded. "You like pizza?" she asked.
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal wraps his hands more tightly around the cat. He closes his eyes. What is he doing?
Why can't the lady just take Satch and go?
"Sweetheart. I know I have already asked that, but are you sure your head is not hurting?"
Hearing the gentle voice, Neal looks up. The lady smiles down at him. He cannot remember her question anymore. Was it something about pizza?
"I like pizza," he mumbles.
Elle's smile brightens. "Great!" she says and then waves her hand. "Come on. We have green light."
They cross the street and the lady speaks again.
"You know Neal, Vincent's the weirdest cat I've ever met."
"How so?" he asks quietly.
She nods at Vincent. "Well, he's just so calm. It's amazing. You two must go for walks quite often, huh?"
Neal shrugs. He is not sure it is true. When he and Vincent were younger, maybe.
"He easily becomes wild though," he says after a moment.
The lady cocks her head. "How so?"
"Um…" Trying to find the right words, Neal snuggles his face into Vincent's fur. "There are just days when I never see him," he finally says. "But then he does come back and it turns out he did not forget after all."
"You said something like that on the phone."
"Like what?"
"Um…" He watches the lady frown. "You sounded upset that Vincent was never home."
"Oh," Neal says, then sighs. He rubs his forehead. He does not remember much of that conversation. "Then you must have misunderstood something. I would never be angry with him."
"Oh, okay. You know, I think it's completely okay to feel angry from time to time," the lady says. "Even with your friends."
"Sure," Neal shrugs.
The lady chuckles. "I remember times when Satch made me feel angry."
He looks up and the lady smiles.
"When he was a puppy he destroyed four expensive albums I was supposed to bring to my client. And I found out it happened only minutes before I had to leave home for the meeting. It made me very upset." The lady shrugs. "But, well. What can you do? Pets are a bit unpredictable like that. Especially the little ones. I felt angry because I cared very much about the meeting. I wanted to make a good impression. So, you see, the anger in that situation was just information about me. What would not be okay was to let my anger overwhelm me and shout at Satch."
"I did shout at Satch today."
"Yeah?" Elle asks and after a moment Neal nods.
"Yeah."
"I understand," the lady says softly. "It must have been very hard to learn that Satch has owners looking for him. I can see how much you care about him."
Looking up at the blue sky, Neal does not answer. It does not matter, he thinks. It does not matter what and whom he cares about. In the end… "I knew from the beginning that he was going to leave," he says, then turns his gaze back at the lady. "There was no way he was going to stay."
"Why?" she asks.
Looking away, Neal shrugs. Just because.
/\_/\
='x'=
Looking sidelong at the child's sad profile, Elle frowned.
She no longer felt her heart breaking through her chest. Which was a relief.
Given more time to think things through, she slowly began to realize that Neal's situation, despite the worrisome behaviour, might not be as bad as she had initially feared.
The child did not look physically neglected. His clothes were tidy, his face and hair were clean and there were no visible signs of physical abuse. Moreover, both the cat and Satchmo looked equally tidy. That, of course, did not mean that Neal was not a victim of abuse. Even so, at this point, if she were to guess, she would say the child's behaviour pointed more to some emotional baggage, rather than an ongoing child abuse. Neal's guardian deserved every benefit of the doubt, considering that he clearly took care of the child's physical needs such as clothing and food.
Realizing she was not going to find out why Neal thought Satch was going to leave, Elle cleared her throat. "Anyway. I'm very curious how you and Satch met. Would you like to tell me how it happened?"
The boy glanced up at her, looking thoughtful. "We met in Central Park," he finally said.
"Oh, wow!" Elle exclaimed, glancing down at Satchmo. "Central Park! But it's so far! You are a pretty good adventurer, aren't you Satch?" She looked back at Neal and saw the boy smile lightly. She grinned back. "Okay. Central Park. Sounds like an awesome story. I'm all ears."
He blushed. "It's not really…" She watched him take a deep breath as if to fortify himself. "He robbed a food-stand. It was quite a chase. A PEP officer joined it too. But then, instead of running away like a good thief should, Satch just ran up to me and decided to let me do the explanations for him. And so I did," the boy said on one breath. Then, he shrugged. "They let us go with a warning. And that's about it. The whole story."
That… was some story. Elle opened her mouth to voice a question, then held back. It did not matter if the story was made-up. What mattered was that Neal was talking to her.
"That's quite an adventure! I'm glad it was you Satch ran into," she said, smiling.
For a moment, the child's shy smile became almost a beaming one. But then, a shadow crossed Neal's face and she watched his shoulders sag again. "But then I left him," she heard him mumble almost inaudibly.
"You did? Why?"
Neal looked up, then gave her a wry smile. "Doesn't matter anymore."
Afraid she'd somehow upset him again, Elle nodded. "If you don't want to talk about—"
"Why did you name him Satchmo?" Neal interrupted her. "I've wondered about that sometimes."
"Oh." Elle smiled as that was the first real question she had received from the boy. "I like jazz."
The child's face was blank.
"Wonderful World?"
He cocked his head at her.
"It's a song," she further explained.
Were their generations really so distant that his no longer recognized the title?
"There's no way you wouldn't know that. You must have heard it on the radio at least once." Her words did not change the oblivious expression on Neal's face. Elle chuckled. "Wait a sec. I will play this to you," she said, fishing out her phone.
She had two new messages. They were from Peter. She ignored them and opened the playlist.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Okay, you have to know this," the lady says and as the music starts playing, Neal realizes he does indeed know the tune.
"And his name is Satch?" he asks after a moment, glancing down at the dog walking by their side.
"Satchmo, yes. More like a nickname. And was," the lady explains.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he says.
The lady clears her throat. "I did not know him. He died in 1971. Here, in New York, actually."
"Oh," Neal says and when the lady says nothing more, but keeps frowning at something on her phone, he decides to nod at the cat in his arms. "You know, Vincent's also dead."
Elle pockets her phone. "What?"
"He died in 1853. Mum liked him so we decided to name Vincent after him."
He watches the lady blink a few times. Then, suddenly, she chuckles. "Oh, wait, 1853! Don't tell me that you named your cat after Vincent Van Gogh."
"Yeah, that's what I said."
The lady chuckles again. "Wow, I did not suspect that. You named him after a painter! Do you like art?"
Neal cracks a smile. "Somewhat."
"That's awesome. Me too!"
"Really?" He looks up at Elle. She is smiling.
"Do you like drawing? Or painting?" she asks.
He and his mum, they used to…
"We could paint something together," Neal blurts out.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle opened her mouth to reply very honestly, only to pause, and not say a word.
She could draw the basics. A flower for her niece, a little fish on the margin of her notebook… Given that the boy's cat was named after Van Gogh, she doubted that this level of skill was what the child meant by 'paint'.
But then, something in the question moved her heart and told her that Neal was not exactly asking her about her skill level. Instead he asked about something important to him.
"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Elle said, hoping that Neal was not that much of an art critic. "What would you like us to draw?"
/\_/\
='x'=
Hearing the question, Neal stops mid-step.
He opens his mouth. No words come out. The lady stops too and looks back at him. Still wearing that warm smile and…
"I kind of copy most of the time," Neal mumbles, looking away. "I don't have any original ideas."
"Oh," Elle says and suddenly Neal thinks how disappointed his mum would be if she ever heard that statement and… "So that means we'll just have to brainstorm!"
"What?"
"Brainstorm," Elle says. "You know, come up together with a theme for our drawing.
"I know what the word means but—" Realizing he has started shouting at the lady again for no reason, Neal pauses. He shakes his head. "Sorry ma'm."
"It's okay. You're just hungry, sweetie," she says softly. "Come on. You can see the restaurant from here. First we'll eat and then we'll draw!"
Neal's hands tighten around Vincent. He tries to say that they do not have to draw, not really, but the words stick in his throat.
When Elle starts walking again he quickly joins her at her side. Looking up at her he cannot help but wonder… Is she one of those artists, creating under a pseudonym? What if she's a forger? What if...
"Elle, are you famous?" he asks.
Looking amused, Elle shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."
"That's okay," Neal says. "I'm not either." In his experience, it really is better not to be.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle was surprised to feel actually quite hungry. From a corner of her eye she saw Neal put away the menu. "Ready?" she asked and when the child nodded, she put her menu away as well.
"Me too," she said. " So. What are you getting?"
"Pepperoni."
"Okay," Elle smiled. "I'm going to take the one with zucchini."
Just as she finished speaking the waitress showed up. It was Anne and she had a look of surprise on her face. "Elle! What in the world!" she chuckled, petting Satch on the head. "Satch's back?"
Elle smiled. "We have just reunited." She nodded at Neal. "Neal's the one who found him."
"Oh! I'm so glad! I'm Anne." The boy shook hands with Elle's friend without hesitation.
"Neal," he said, flashing Anne a bright smile.
"Anne helped us put up the lost dog flyers. Now we can start taking them off," Elle explained.
Anne chuckled and patted Satch's head. "We missed you buddy," she said. She turned to look at Elle. "So, what can I get you?"
"Two pizzas, pepperoni and zucchini," Elle said, then turned to look at Neal. "What do you want to drink?"
"Milk," the boy said.
"And for me macchiato."
"Okay, gotcha." Anne nodded and then left their table. Feeling the boy's eyes on her, Elle turned to look at Neal. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to ask something, but then he must have changed his mind because he looked away and focused his gaze on Satch again.
"So, Neal." Elle said, deciding to return to the previous topic. "What do you think we should draw first? Maybe Satch?"
/\_/\
='x'=
"Maybe Satch?" the lady asks and Neal looks up. "And Vincent. That's quite a good start, isn't it? When Anne gets back I'll ask if they have any spare sheets of paper."
"…Yeah, okay," Neal mumbles, resting his chin on top of Vincent's head. It really has been such a long time since he drew something with mum…
He smiles at Elle and watches her smile back at him.
"Nothing like a warm meal after a long day, huh? Feeling very tired?"
Still smiling, Neal nods.
He watches the lady stifle a yawn. "You and me both, sweetie," she chuckles. "But it was a good day. I'm glad we met."
Me too, Vincent meows. And even though Neal is the only one who can hear him, the lady acts as if she heard him too. Because after stifling another yawn, she smiles at him again. Neal reckons he has never seen a smile so bright.
/\_/\
='x'=
Hearing the chime of a text message, Peter immediately put Neumann's case files away and grasped his phone. It really was from Elle. After more than an hour, she finally replied. He opened the message immediately.
[Hon: I think I panicked earlier. Neal's a troubled kid, but there are no signs of physical neglect. We just finished eating pizza. My plan now is to talk to Neal some more and then drive him off and talk to his folks. I'll ask whether they would let Neal walk Satch from time to time. So overall, I don't think I need your help anymore. I can handle it on my own. I know this case you're working on right now is important. Lots of love!]
Satch?
Feeling confused, Peter immediately pressed the call button.
/\_/\
='x'=
After sending the text message Elle pocketed the phone and opened the door to the bathroom.
She was half way to where their table was, when suddenly her phone rang. It was Peter.
"Hon?"
"You found Satchmo?" Hearing her husband's strained voice, Elle stopped mid-step.
"Oh."
"Elle, answer, please! That dog the kid found is Satch?"
Feeling guilty, Elle got to the table quickly. "Yes, yes," she said in a hurry. "I'm so sorry, hon, I—" she paused, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry. I thought I told you. Yes. The dog Neal found is Satch. It's amazing, I know!"
Peter was silent for a long moment.
"…Satch's back," she heard him finally say.
She chuckled. "Yeah," she said, rubbing her hand over her face. She vaguely realized she had tears in her eyes. "Yeah. He's back," she whispered and squatted to rest her hand on top of the dog's head. Then, still smiling, she raised her head to meet the child's serious gaze. "And it's all thanks to Neal. He's the angel who's been taking care of Satch all those weeks."
/\_/\
='x'=
"Yeah, I understand… Of course… Love you too, bye!" Watching the lady finish her conversation, Neal furrows his forehead.
He does not understand why the lady started crying. But she did. Did the person on the phone make her cry?
He also hesitantly gets down on the floor and hands her a napkin.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Elle smiles. He watches her wipe her eyes. "Thank you," she shakes her head and clears her throat. "It was my husband. I somehow forgot to tell him that you found Satch and he— he was very surprised."
Neal feels something cold clench in his stomach.
"…Sweetie?"
Neal closes his eyes.
"Sweetie, what is it?"
He takes a shuddering breath. "…He does not want Satch," he whispers.
Elle blinks. "Wait, what?"
"He thinks he's bad. Bad and a mistake." Neal wraps his arms around his knees. He wants to hide.
"No, no," he hears the lady say. "Sweetie, Peter does not think that. He loves Satch and he—" A warm hand rests on his shoulder. "Hey, look at me, Neal."
He meets her eyes.
The lady gestures to her face. "These are tears of joy, sweetie. Peter would never abandon Satch. And neither would I. Okay?"
"It certainly did not seem that way an hour or so ago," Neal mumbles.
The lady sighs. "You mean when I did not want to take the leash from you?"
He nods silently.
"Sweetie." The lady squeezes his shoulder. "But it was not because I wanted to abandon Satch. It's because I did not want you to have to abandon him."
Neal shakes his head. "But I have to—"
"No, you don't," the lady says. "Even if your uncle does not allow you to have a dog, I'm sure he would not mind if you walked one from time to time."
"…What?"
"Does it sound like a nice idea to you? You can earn some money by walking Satch."
Neal shakes his head. This does not feel right. He glances at Satchmo.
"You want me to walk him?" he asks once again, just to make sure.
The lady nods. "Yeah."
"Oh." Again looking at Satch, Neal smiles. "That's why," he mumbles, as Satchmo stands up and tries to kiss his face. Neal chuckles and wraps his arms around his friend. He looks back at the lady. She is smiling.
"I would like that very much," he says.
She lets go of his shoulder. "Then it's decided," she chuckles.
They look at each other for a long moment and as they do, Neal realizes… How happy he is. Suddenly, overwhelmed with enthusiasm, he jumps to his feet. "Let's go," he says.
The lady blinks. "Go? Where?"
"To Satch's home!" Neal says as he picks up his backpack and tosses it over his shoulder. "We can go now." He takes Vincent into his arms again.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle looked at the child. She thought his mood had changed far too fast for her to follow. "You want to see where I live?" she asked just to be certain.
Neal nodded.
Elle frowned. It did make sense, she guessed. If Neal were to walk Satch he had to know where they lived. Only… "Listen, sweetie. You do realize we'll have to ask your uncle for his permission first?"
"What? Why?"
Elle got up from the floor. "Well, because, I'm sure he would be grateful if he knew where you are in your spare time. I think he would like to meet me first."
Neal scratched his hand. "I don't think so."
Elle looked at the boy in silence.
"He does not have to know a thing, Elle."
"Why? Are you afraid what's going to happen if he finds out?"
Neal shrugged.
"Will he be mad you met me without asking him first?"
"I guess…" Neal sighed.
Elle smiled. "That's okay," she said. "Do you know why?"
Neal glanced up at her.
"Because he cares about you. That's why," Elle said. "And I'm sure you know from both school and your uncle that it is not wise for a child to go out with strangers."
The boy frowned and Elle sighed and sat down.
"Take a seat kiddo," she said. Hesitantly he obeyed. Elle met his eyes squarely. "It was irresponsible to meet me without telling your uncle… Does he work a lot?"
Neal nodded.
"Is that why you said on the phone you felt like you were living alone?"
The boy grimaced. "I don't remember—" He bit his lip. "Yeah…" The child lowered his head.
"He works long hours," Elle stated, remembering what the child said about having to be home around midnight. She watched the boy nod. "Sometimes he is not home until midnight."
Neal nodded.
"Okay, I understand it can make one feel very lonely. I know I would feel lonely… But sweetheart, ask yourself this question. Would he be mad if he found out that you think if he comes back at midnight, it means you can come back at midnight too?"
"Yes," Neal mumbled.
Elle nodded. "Why?"
She watched the boy roll his eyes. "Because children like me should not go out at night," he said, in the tone of a sixth grader reciting a boring poem.
"Yeah. Exactly. It's dangerous. Just like it is dangerous to meet strangers without telling anyone about it. I know it, your uncle knows it and so do you. But now, since we did meet, we should explain to him the situation. Because keeping secrets like that is never good, okay?"
"…Okay," Neal said.
Elle could not feel more relieved. "Okay," she said, getting up. "Let me pay the bill first. Then I'll show you where I live and maybe, on our way there, you will be able to get your uncle on the phone. Deal?"
The boy smiled. "Deal."
/\_/\
='x'=
"Thank you for everything, Anne," the lady says after paying the bill with her credit card. Elle has turned out to be one of those adults who do not feel at all that they should protect their PIN when typing it on the terminal.
"You're giving me back this too? You did not draw anything after all?" Anne asks, looking between Elle and Neal.
"Pizzas arrived too quickly." Elle smiles.
"Oh, so it's my fault?" Anne chuckles. "Too bad. And here I thought we would have something to add to the wall." She points behind the counter at the wall covered with drawings.
"Maybe another time," Elle says. "Take care, ok?"
"You too. It was nice to meet you, Neal."
"Nice to meet you too," Neal says and with that they leave. As soon as they are outside, he cannot help but ask.
"But we can still draw at your home, right?"
The lady glances down at him. "My home?" she asks. "…Yeah. Sure, Neal. But let's call your uncle first, okay?"
Neal looks down and scuffs his foot on the pavement.
"Listen, sweetie," Elle says. "Sometimes, when the people who care about us are angry, it is because they are worried. I know I would be very worried if my child were to spend a day with a stranger. So we really have to call him."
Furrowing his forehead, Neal wonders how long the lady will keep saying this. If she does not let it go soon, his chances of walking Satch might be non-existent. On the other hand, maybe, if he stalls long enough… Immersed in this thought, he takes out his phone and dials the number of one of his own burn-phones.
"Thanks, Neal," the lady says.
"Sure." Neal smiles, listening to the ringing tone.
/\_/\
='x'=
"No good, Elle," the boy said after the fifth try. "He's not picking up."
Elle sighed.
"He might be at a meeting," Neal continued.
"I understand." She rubbed her forehead. "Has he told you he'll have a meeting today?"
"We do not really talk about his work." Neal shrugs.
She nodded. "You know what his job is?"
"Businessman?"
"Businessman," Elle repeated. "And what does he do?"
"Business."
"Business." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, Neal. Here's what we're going to do. Let's take a break and call your uncle in an hour. Okay?"
"Or I can give him your number," the boy helpfully offered. "Then, tomorrow, as soon as he has time, he can call you back."
"Oh. Yeah, okay, that can work."
The child beamed at her.
Elle frowned. "Still, I'd rather contact him before tomorrow."
"He's really busy," Neal said, a bit irritably.
"I understand…" She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "And does he have an assistant or—"
"I don't know."
Elle tried to put a lid on her growing frustration. Neal was not being unhelpful on purpose. "Maybe there is someone else who is taking care of you when he's unenviable? Someone you could call in case of an emergency?"
The boy's mouth drew into a thin line. "Uncle's all I need!"
"…Okay. I understand, kiddo. Then we'll try to call him again within the hour."
Neal instantly brightened. "Sure!"
Glancing at the hour, Elle furrowed her forehead. She would really feel better if the boy's guardian did pick up. Inviting someone's child to her home did not sit well with her.
"Once we do reach him, I'll have to sincerely apologize to your uncle," she told Neal with a sigh. "You'd better think about your apology too, Neal. If you were my kid, I would probably ask you to write an essay on why meeting strangers is a very bad idea." Neal was silent. Elle stopped mid-step.
"Look at me sweetheart," she said.
He did.
"You need to understand how serious this situation is. You know there are people who just pretend to be nice, oftentimes using dogs like Satch to get closer to children?"
"Oh, please," the boy snorted. "You're not."
"No." Elle squatted to meet his eyes. "No, I'm not, sweetie. But the thing is, you don't really know me. For all you know, I could be just pretending to be nice to you."
The boy huffed, still not impressed. He clearly did not want to listen.
She hesitated. She was unsure whether it was even her place to make him understand. Nevertheless, she decided to give it another try.
"Listen, Neal. I am glad we met. But you're just a child, okay? And I'm neither your teacher nor a neighbour, nor your uncle's friend… He does not even know I exist. I think that's why he's going to be angry. At me, mostly. Because something bad could have happened today if I were someone else."
Neal was silent. His gaze was unreadable, but at least he no longer looked mutinous.
"I understand you feel lonely, sweetie, but there really are adults who will take this against you, if you give them a chance. That's why it's so important to seek out friends wisely, okay? It's summer, so I understand you don't have any classes, but maybe there are some interest clubs your uncle might enrol you in."
"Interest clubs?" Neal echoed blankly.
"Yeah. Maybe some painting classes for example? Or baseball classes? Somewhere where you could meet children of your age."
Instead of looking interested, the boy began to look sad. Elle would give anything to know what was going on in that head of his. "But that's the conversation that I'll have with your uncle once we meet," she finished. "For now, let's just go home."
She stood up, but when she started walking, Neal did not follow. She immediately turned back. "Sweetie?" she asked. She knew she was making a lot of assumptions about Neal's situation, but hopefully once she meets the child's guardians some things will become clear and…
Unexpectedly, the boy took a step forward and, with Vincent still tucked under his arm, snuggled his face in her shirt.
"Sweetie?" Elle said.
"I love you," the boy mumbled. Which could not be right. She must have misheard it.
"Sweetheart?" she asked uncertainly.
Neal's eyes were full of tears when he looked up. "Can I stay overnight?" he asked.
"…Neal—"
"Not today! But for example tomorrow! Tomorrow." The words rushed, tumbling over each other. The expression in Neal's eyes was pleading. His hands tightened on her shirt.
"Neal…" Elle said, trying to gather her thoughts. "Sweetie," she took a deep breath. "Wouldn't it make your uncle worried?"
"I won't tell him!"
"Neal, what did I just tell you about—" she paused. Feeling a bit dazed, she looked around. Her eyes stopped on a bench. "Come on," she told the child. "Let's sit and talk, okay?"
Neal nodded and let go, taking a step back. Scrubbing his eyes, he followed her without protest.
When they sat, Elle still felt at a loss on what to say. She watched the boy put Vincent down on the bench next to them, then wrap his arms around his legs.
"You don't like your uncle?" she quietly asked after a moment.
"No, I like him!" the child protested vehemently.
"Okay." Elle nodded. "But you don't want to live with him."
Neal shrugged.
"Since when have you two been living together?"
Saying nothing, the boy hid his face from her. With slight hesitation, Elle rested her hand on his back. "Sweetheart?" she asked.
"My uncle's the best thing that has ever happened to me," she heard the boy mumble.
"Yeah, okay, but then why did you—"
Neal looked up. "I HATE YOU ELLE!" he cried and jumped to his feet.
Elle wasn't thinking anymore. Instead of asking for anything, she just stood up and gently wrapped her arms around the child's fragile form. She was afraid to hold him too close, but then, after a moment, Neal relaxed and did reciprocate. Snuggling his face in her shirt again, the boy wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.
Never in her life had Elle felt so lost as to what to do next. She opened her mouth to ask a question, then realized she no longer knew what to ask. What was worse, she was starting to have tears in her eyes too.
"It's ok, sweetie." She led him to sit on the bench next to her. She rested her hand on his back. "All right. You're safe… I'm here."
Neal took a shuddering breath.
"I miss mum," he mumbled, his voice broken.
Her heart sank. Her hand on his back froze.
"When was the last time you saw her, sweetie?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"Three years ago," the boy said hollowly.
Elle resumed rubbing his back.
"Did something happen to her?" she asked softly after a moment.
In her arms Neal was trembling. "I don't think so," he whispered. "I think she forgot about me, though."
Elle tightened her hug.
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal does not know how long the lady has been holding him close. But it must have been a long time, because when he hears her say his name again, it is from a distance, as if he was sleeping. Only after the third pronouncement of his name does Neal finally manage to open his eyes.
Elle smiles down at him. Her eyes are reddened.
"Come on, sweetie," she quietly says. "I see you're tired. My home is just around the corner from here."
Rubbing his eyes, Neal gets up. "I can't stay overnight though," he tells her, sleepily. "Uncle would be mad."
"Yes, of course," Elle says.
Neal picks up Vincent and she takes his free hand. Her hand feels so warm. He wants Elle to hug him again.
"Elle," he mumbles as they start walking again.
"Yeah?" she looks down at him.
"I'm going to walk Satch everyday now, okay?"
"Okay," she quietly says. She squeezes his hand. "Okay, Neal. I would like it very much."
Neal looks straight at Satch walking by their side. The dog smiles at him, wagging his tail. He is so happy.
Next (29.12 03.01): Satch's Home
Update (29.12): I'm very sorry. It's Tuesday, but I don't have a new chapter for you yet. I think I should have the chapter ready by Sunday (03.01). If not, I'll let you know.