Dead in the Family

Charlie.”
    She smiled a little, and I knew what kind of end that man had met. Heidi was spooky in the extreme.
    “Now, I’ll be going to the back of your property to see what I can find. I’ll let you know when I’m through.” Once she’d walked out the front door, she vanished into the woods so swiftly that by the time I went to the back of the house to look out, she’d melted into the trees.
    I’ve had a lot of strange conversations, and I’ve had some heart-wrenching conversations—but my talk with Heidi had been both. Fortunately, I had a couple of minutes to recover while I served our plates and monitored Hunter’s hand washing.
    I was glad to discover that the boy expected to say a prayer before he ate, and we bowed our heads together. He enjoyed his Hamburger Helper and green beans and strawberries. While we ate, Hunter told me all about his father, by way of table conversation. I was sure Remy would be horrified if he could hear the tell-all approach Hunter took. It was all I could do not to laugh. I guess the discussion would have seemed strange to anyone else, because half of it was mind-to-mind and half of it was spoken.
    Without any reminder from me, Hunter took his plate from the table to the sink. I held my breath until he slid it onto the counter carefully. “Do you have a dog?” he asked, looking around as if one might materialize. “We always give our scraps to the dog.” I remembered the little black dog I’d seen running around the backyard of Remy’s little house in Red Ditch.
    No, I don’t, I told him.
    You’ve got a friend that turns into a dog? he said, his eyes big with astonishment.
    “Yes, I do,” I said. “He’s a good friend.” I hadn’t counted on Hunter picking that up. This was very tricky.
    “My dad says I’m smart,” Hunter said, looking rather doubtful.
    “Sure you are,” I told him. “I know it’s hard being different, because I’m different, too. But I grew up to be okay.”
    You sound kind of worried, though, Hunter said.
    I agreed with Remy. Hunter was a smart little boy.
    I am. It was hard for me, growing up, because no one understood why I was different. People won’t believe you. I sat down in a chair by the table and pulled Hunter onto my lap. I was worried this was too much touching for him, but he seemed glad to sit there. People don’t want to know that someone can hear what they’re thinking. They don’t have any privacy when people like us are around.
    Hunter didn’t exactly get “privacy,” so we talked about the concept for a while. Maybe that was over the head of most five-year-olds—but Hunter wasn’t the average kid.
    So is the thing out in the woods giving you privacy? Hunter asked me.
    What? I knew I’d reacted with too much anxiety and dismay when Hunter looked upset, too. Don’t worry about it, honey, I said. No, he’s no problem.
    Hunter looked reassured enough for me to feel that it was time to change the subject. His attention was wandering, so I let him scramble down. He began playing with the Duplos he’d brought in his backpack, transporting them from the bedroom to the kitchen with his dump truck. I thought of getting him some Legos for a belated birthday present, but I’d check with Remy first, get his okay. I listened in to Hunter while I was doing the dishes.
    I found out that he was as interested in his anatomy as most five-year-olds are, and that he thought it was funny that he got to stand up when he peed and I had to sit down, and that he hadn’t liked Kristen because she didn’t really like him. She pretended to, he told me, exactly as if he’d known when I was listening in to him.
    I’d been standing at the sink with my back to Hunter, but it didn’t make any difference in our conversation, which was another strange feeling.
    Can you tell when I’m listening to your head? I asked, surprised.
    Yeah, it tickles, Hunter told me.
    Was that because he was so young? Would it have “tickled” in my head, too, if I’d met another telepath when I was that age? Or was Hunter unique among telepaths?
    “Was that lady who came to the door dead?” Hunter said. He’d jumped up and run around the table to stand by my side while I dried the skillet.
    “Yes,” I said. “She’s a vampire.”
    “Will she bite?”
    “She won’t bite you or me,” I said. “I guess sometimes she bites people if they tell her that’s okay.” Boy, I was worried about this conversation. It was like talking about