"Hello," she said, and he realized he hadn't said anything, but was simply standing there in the doorway, staring.
"Hello, Josie," he managed, his own voice sounding strange to him, forced and dry. "How are you?"
"Good." The shock in her eyes had eased, but she didn't seem to be having any better luck than he was with conversation. "I didn't know you were here."
"My coming was kind of unexpected."
He felt slow and awkward in her presence, aware of his ragged appearance in old jeans, plaid work shirt, and scuffed boots. His long hair, tied back from his face and still damp from his shower, was shot through with gray and had receded above his temples. He bore the scars from his battles with the minions of the Void across his sun-browned face and forearms, and the damage to his leg ached more often these days. He found Josie as fresh and youthful as ever, but believed that to her he must look old and used up.
He glanced down at the plate of cookies she was holding in her hands, seeing them for the first time.
Her eyes lowered. "I brought them for Nest. She always bakes cookies for everyone else, so I thought someone ought to bake some for her. Can I come in?"
"Of course," he said hurriedly, stepping back. "Guess my mind is somewhere else. Come in." He waited until she was inside and then closed the door. "Nest is out in the park, but she should be back in a few minutes."
They stared at each other in the shadowed entry, hearing the ticking of the grandfather clock and the low murmur of Bennett reading to Harper.
"You look tired, John," she said finally.
"You look wonderful."
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Josie flushed, then released that blinding smile, and he felt as if nothing on earth would ever be more welcome.
"That smile—now there's something I've thought about often," he admitted, shaking his head at what he was feeling inside, knowing already he shouldn't allow it, unable to help himself.
She held his gaze, the smile in place. "I've missed you, too. Isn't that remarkable?"
"It's been a long time," he said.
"Not so long that you felt the need to call or write?"
He gave her a rueful look. "I've never been much good at either. I tell myself to do it, but I just don't follow through. I don't really know what to say. It feels strange trying to put down what I'm thinking on paper or to say it into a phone. I don't know. Ask Nest. I haven't called or written her either."
The smile faded, and she shook her head slowly. "It's all right. I guess I never really thought you would." She handed him the plate of cookies. "Here, hold these for a moment, will you?"
She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the coatrack, draping her scarf on top and shoving her gloves into the pockets. She brushed back her hair self-consciously, smoothed her blouse where it tucked into her pants, and took the cookies back.
"Pour me a glass of milk and I'll share," she offered, the smile back in place again.
They walked down the hall past the living room, and Bennett and Harper looked up. Little John, kneeling on the couch, never moved. Josie leaned around Ross to say hello and asked if anyone would like a snack. The women didn't seem to know each other, but neither made an effort to introduce herself, so Ross let the matter alone. He went into the kitchen with Josie, helped her with glasses of milk, then remained leaning against the counter looking off into the tree-shrouded distance while Josie carried a tray for Bennett and the children into the living room.
When she returned, he sat with her at the old wooden table, the cookies and milk between them. For a moment, no one spoke.
"Do you still have the coffee shop?" he asked finally.
"Yep. Mostly the same customers, too. Nothing changes." She arched one eyebrow. "You?"
"Traveling," he said. "Working odd jobs here and there, trying to make sense of my life. You know. How's your daughter?"
"Grown up, married, two kids. I'm a grandmother. Who would have thought?"
"Not me. I don't see you that way."
"Thanks. How long are you here for?"
He shook his head. "I don't know yet. Through Christmas, I guess. It depends."
She nodded slowly. "On them?" She indicated the living room with a nod of her head.
"Well, on the boy, at least."
She waited, watching him carefully. When he didn't say anything, she asked, "Who is he?"
He cleared his throat softly. "He's my son. I'm taking him to Chicago to see a specialist. He doesn't speak."
She went very still. "Is that your wife and daughter with him?"
"What?"
"The woman and the little girl?"
He blinked. "No. Why would you—No, she's barely twenty, and I don't..."
"You seemed a little awkward about introducing them," she said.
"Oh, well, maybe so." He shook his head. "I don't know them, is the problem. I just got here last night, and they were already here, and I don't know much more about them than you do."
She took a bite of cookie and a sip of milk, eyes shifting away. "Tell me about your son. Where is his mother?"
He shook his head again. "I don't know." He caught himself too late, the lie already spoken, and quickly added, "He's adopted. Single-parent adoption." His mind raced. "That's another reason I'm here. I'm not much good at this. I'm hoping Nest can help."
He was getting in deeper, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He had never thought he would have to explain the gypsy morph to anyone except Nest, that he would slip in at night, tell her why he was there, then wait for something to develop, and slip out again. Instead, he found himself in a situation where he was forced to make things up almost faster than he could manage.
"What is it you think Nest can do?"
He stared at her wearily. "I don't know," he admitted, realizing he was saying the same thing over/and over, but this time speaking the truth. "I'm in over my head, and 1 don't know who else to turn to."
Her face softened instantly. "John, you can ask Nest for anything. You know that. If she can help you, she will." She paused. "I hope you know that you can ask me, as well."
He grinned ruefully. "It helps hearing you say it. I wasn't sure how things stood between us."
She nodded slowly. "They stand the way they have always stood. Can't you tell?"
The way she looked at him when she said it, he guessed maybe he could.
Deputy Sheriff Larry Spence pulled over at the Quik Stop and went inside to buy some gum. When he came out, hunching down into his heavy leather coat for warmth, taking note of the graying skies and gusting winds, he paused at the pay phone attached to the side of the building and dialed the number FBI Agent Robinson had given him. He still wasn't sure about this whole business, but he didn't want to take any chances with Nest.
He drummed his fingers on the metal phone shell while he waited for someone to pick up. He didn't much like Robinson or that woman agent, especially after their visit to his house. His kids didn't seem to like them much either. Neither had slept very well last night, and Billy had come awake half a dozen times screaming about knives. No, he didn't much like it. It seemed to him they might have found a better place to talk to him about John Ross. He'd thought about calling the bureau, checking up on the agents, but he was afraid it would make him look foolish to do so. Anyway, all they wanted to know was whether or not Ross was out there. Once he told them that, he was done with the matter.