HIDING - every scar has a story

10. No more ouch.

{Cary}

"I'm home!" Jon called as he came in the door. He kicked his shoes to the side and dropped his bag on top of them. "I brought Cary with me."

Jon's mom was in the kitchen looking flushed. "Hi honey, hello Cary." She spared Cary a smile. "I hope you don't mind if supper is kind of thrown together."

Cary shook his head. He had neatly left his shoes in the bottom of the closet and he kept his jacket on.

Jon's littlest sister sat on the kitchen floor, her bare legs splayed in front of her. She waved a long striped sock. "Help please!"

Jon bent to tug it up to her knee. "Soccer tonight?"

His mom nodded. "Can you help set the table?"

"Jonee, where's my shoes?" Bea asked.

"I can set," Cary said. He washed his hands before he filled his arms with plates, navigating around Jon's mom with care.

Cary heard the front door open and Bea squeal, "Daddy!"

A man's voice said, "I'm home! Hey my little soccer princess."

Cary set the last glass and backed up against the counter.

Jon's dad came into the kitchen with Bea in his arms. He had a smile in his rust-colored beard. "Hey love, smells good." Jon's mom tipped her face for a quick kiss.

"Dad, this is Cary," Jon said.

Jon's dad came toward him and Cary barely managed to hold his ground. The kitchen suddenly seemed cramped and full of hard edges.

Jon's dad was smiling. "Nice to meet you Cary. I understand you and Jon have a project you're working on?"

"Yes sir."

"We're not in the army here. Call me Pete."

Cary's eyes widened and he ducked his head in a nod. New rules. He edged behind Jon's shoulder, keeping him close for cover.

Jon's mom flipped grilled cheese sandwiches onto a serving plate and set it on the table with a pot of tomato soup, and everyone scraped their chairs back to sit down. Pete held out his hands to his wife on his right and his son on his left. Bea held out her small hand to Cary, wiggling her fingers. Across the table, Tabitha frowned at him. "Take it silly. We're praying."

Bea's hand was feather-light in Cary's own and damp. Jon's father bowed his head and closed his eyes. Cary bent his head to hide his frown.

"Father, thank you for all the good things you have given us today. Thank you that Cary could be with us tonight. Bless him out of your love. Bless this food to our bodies' use and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen."

"Amen," Bea said and let Cary's hand go.

Cary watched Jon's father out of the corner of his eye. Pete was serving up his daughters' plates. Cary had never seen a father like Jon's except on TV.

Dinner at Jon's house was noisy: Jon's sisters and their chatter seemed to fill every possible opening. Jon's father turned his head from Tabby to Bea, doing his best to listen to both at once. Cary ate quickly, watching Jon's family for the cracks, the signs of danger he knew so well. He saw the shadow of sadness in Jon's mom's face. He saw the tired lines Pete's smile couldn't lift. But something was missing.

"Do you like your girled cheese sand-itches?"

Cary glanced sideways at Bea, startled that she had spoken to him. "Yeah, they're good."