Alex Harris 00 - Armed

little hand resting on my arm.
    My dad had been busy re-varnishing the sleds Sam and I used as children. He had sanded the old paint off the runners and reapplied several coats of wagon red. They wouldn’t exactly be new or have the latest look, but both children would get one and the thought of using the same sleds their mother and aunt had used would hopefully be amusing to both of them. One hundred percent.
    Mom stood up and handed Kendall and Henry their coats.
    “Well, I think we should get going. We still have a couple more stops. What do you say we get pizza tonight?”
    My niece and nephew bundled themselves up again. If I didn’t see them as often as I did, my life would feel empty. I wondered how Irwin Scott had been able to leave California never knowing what had happened to his son.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

    A gust of wind off the roof sent a veil of snow swirling smack into my face and burned my cheeks. I tucked my head down inside my jacket and made it to the back door of my parents’ house before another assault. I love winter, but sometimes it just isn’t as much fun as you remembered from your childhood.
    Entering the house immediately engulfed me in the smells of my childhood: cinnamon from my father’s breakfast of cinnamon toast, the rich aroma of coffee, and the unmistakable scent of evergreen from the tree in the living room. This was my safe harbor—along with Meme’s—and more than ever I thanked my lucky stars I still lived in the same town as my parents.
    I took my coat off and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair, my fingers gently brushing the worn wood of the captain’s chair where my father sat every night at dinner. The kitchen walls remained yellow though new coats of paint got slapped on every few years. The counter tops shined with updated granite, but other than that, it looked the same. A door on the far wall led to a laundry room that also served as a storage area for Mom’s recyclables. My mother saved every scrap of wrapping paper for re-use, pieces of aluminum foil to wrap around another potato, and a horde of plastic bags she couldn’t part with.
    “Hi, Dad,” I said, as my father came into the kitchen and then I stopped dead in my tracks. “That’s not funny.” I reached over and snapped the bowtie around his neck as a smile spread across my face. “Well, okay, it is.”
    “Sorry, Alex. I couldn’t resist.”
    Harry Harris was like my mother, tall. Both my parents had thick hair and neither had thought about passing it on to me. My dad also had sapphire blue eyes that hadn’t lost any of their luster. Dad worked as an insurance agent. Semi-retired now, he still managed to keep himself busy with a few clients who would have nothing to do with anyone but him. He also arranged for all insurance matters for Sam and me and our business.
    “Aunt Alex, you’re here! Can we go now?” Henry came into the kitchen, his hat and coat already on, a pair of ice skates in his hands.
    “Not yet, Sweetie, we’re waiting for your mom and dad.”
    “They keep us young, those two. What have you done to your hair?” Mom asked, coming up behind her grandson and turning me around and admiring it.
    “I highlighted it this morning. What do you think?”
    “I like it,” Mom nodded. “The color suits your skin tone. Very nice.”
    Mom moved over to the counter and began placing rolls into a container. “I just made a batch of cinnamon rolls to take with us. I’ve got a big thermos of hot, spiced apple juice and your sister’s bringing another one. We haven’t gone skating for ages, Alex. What made you think of it?”
    “I saw a few skaters on the pond and thought it would be nice to take the kids. Besides, we could all use, I mean I could use , a nice diversion.”
    I reached for a bun and Mom playfully slapped my hand.
    “They’re for later. You’re just like Henry. He stuck his finger in the icing the moment I put it down.”
    “I like licking the bowl. You know the greatest thing about being a grownup and living on my own?”
    “I have a good idea.” Mom eyed me.
    “Being able to lick the bowl all by myself and not having to share it with a bossy older sister.”
    Mom raised her eyebrows. “Speak of the devil. I think they’re here.”
    We went out to the living room and I immediately grabbed Sam. “Don’t mention anything about Friday night. I haven’t told Mom and Dad. No need to worry them.”
    Sam looked at my hair and gave me the thumbs up