Deadline (Sandra Brown)

they know?”
    “What would be the point of telling them?”
    “None.”
    “I didn’t think so, either.”
    “How are they?”
    “Want to see them?”
    He grinned. “I could do with some innocence.”
    They climbed the stairs and moved down the hallway, past the closed door to the guest room that Stef had used. “I spoke with Mrs. DeMarco a short while ago. They’d been notified of Jeremy’s confession. Stef’s body will be released to them tomorrow.”
    “Good,” he said. “And terrible.”
    “Yes.”
    When they entered the boys’ bedroom, they heard them quarreling in the connecting bathroom. “Hey, what’s going on?”
    At the sound of her voice, their silence was abrupt. Amelia shot a suspicious look over her shoulder at Dawson as she pushed open the bathroom door. When the boys saw him, they shoved their way past her and launched themselves at him.
    He hooked his hands under Grant’s arms and used him as a weight to do a biceps curl, clenching his teeth and groaning with the effort, which caused Grant to giggle. When he set him down, he socked Hunter’s shoulder. They fired questions at him, but, talking over them, he asked what all the noise had been about.
    Hunter quickly gave the classic reply. “Nothing.”
    “Hunter said we shouldn’t tell Mom, but I think we should.”
    “Shut up, Grant!”
    “Hunter, I’ve asked you not to tell your brother to—”
    “It’s about our—”
    “Grant, shut up!”
    “—penises.”
    Hunter looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Bright spots of color appeared in his cheeks.
    Amelia cleared her throat and, with as much composure as she could muster, asked, “What about them?”
    “ Noth-thing ,” Hunter said, shooting his younger brother a threatening glare.
    Dawson turned to Amelia. “I’d like an iced tea, please.”
    “What?” Confused, she looked from him to the boys, then back at him. Then, “Oh! Of course. Tea. Good. I’ll just go and…” She left them and closed the bedroom door behind herself.
    Ten minutes later, Dawson rejoined her in the kitchen. He went straight to the glass of tea she had dutifully poured and drained it without taking a breath.
    “Well?”
    “Well,” he said, stretching out the word, “they’ve both experienced what I assured them was a perfectly normal biological phenomenon.”
    “Ah. I thought that might be it. I’ve noticed that phenomenon on occasion, but always pretended not to, as any lady would.”
    “Hunter experienced a rather, uh, stubborn one today. He was afraid it signified something terribly wrong with him, which he wanted to keep from you so you wouldn’t worry or get upset.”
    “That sweetheart.”
    “Grant was just as considerate of your feelings. He felt you should be told about the affliction in case they both died of it and you found them dead in their beds without knowing what had killed them.”
    She covered her mouth to smother a laugh.
    “I gave them my solemn promise that you couldn’t die from it, although,” he added in an undertone, “it might sometimes feel like you can. Hunter asked if it would ever stop doing that , and I told him no. If he’s lucky.”
    The two of them started laughing at once and they laughed for a full minute. “So much for their innocence.” Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, she said, “Lord, it feels good to laugh. Since I’ve known you, we haven’t really laughed together, have we?”
    “There’s a lot we haven’t done together that I’ve wanted to do.”
    The mood shifted from lighthearted to serious in the span of a single second. They continued to look at each other, but neither moved to close the short distance between them. Amelia decided to address the issue. “For reasons I can’t explain, it seems inappropriate for us to pick up where we left off last night.”
    Looking pained, he said, “Yeah.”
    They could hear Hunter and Grant tramping down the staircase. Grant called out, “Dawson, will you play cars with us?”
    Amelia said, “But I don’t see any harm in you staying for dinner.”
    He glanced toward the oven. “Something smells good.”
    “Roast chicken with lemon and rosemary.”
    “Sold.”
    The boys came into the kitchen, claiming his attention and ending any chance for a grown-up conversation. But over their heads, he said to her, “After dinner, we have to talk. There’s something you need to know, and I want you to hear it from me.”
    *  *  *
     
    Carl was never