Local Hero

his workroom. Interesting features, he told himself as his pencil began to fly across the pad. Any artist would be compelled to capture them.
    The boy was walking along beside her, his face all but obscured by a woolen scarf and hat. Even from this distance, Mitch could see the boy was chattering earnestly. His head was angled up toward his mother. Every now and again she would glance down as if to comment; then the boy would take over again. A few steps away from the building, she stopped. Mitch saw the wind catch at her hair as she tossed her head back and laughed. His fingers went limp on the pencil as he leaned closer to the window. He wanted to be nearer, near enough to hear the laugh, to see if her eyes lit up with it. He imagined they did, but how? Would that subtle, calm gray go silvery or smoky?
    She continued to walk, and in seconds was in the building and out of sight.
    Mitch stared down at his sketch pad. He had no more than a few lines and contours. He couldn’t finish it, he thought as he set the pencil down. He could only see her laughing now, and to capture that on paper he’d need a closer look.
    Picking up his keys, he jangled them in his hand. He’d given her the better part of a week. The aloof Mrs. Wallace might consider another neighborly visit out of line, but he didn’t. Besides, he liked the kid. Mitch would have gone upstairs to see him before, but he’d been busy fleshing out his story. He owed the kid for that, too, Mitch considered. The little weekend visit had not only crumbled the block, but had given Mitch enough fuel for three issues. Yeah, he owed the kid.
    He pushed the keys into his pocket and walked into his workroom. Taz was there, a bone clamped between his paws as he snoozed. “Don’t get up,” Mitch said mildly. “I’m going out for a while.” As he spoke, he ruffled through papers. Taz opened his eyes to half-mast and grumbled. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.” After wracking through his excuse for a filing system, Mitch found the sketch. Commander Zark in full military regalia, sober faced, sad eyed, his gleaming ship at his back. Beneath it was the caption: “THE MISSION: Capture Princess Leilah—or DESTROY her!!”
    Mitch wished briefly that he had the time to ink and color it, but figured the kid would like it as is. With a careless stroke he signed it, then rolled it into a tube.
    “Don’t wait dinner for me,” he instructed Taz.
    ***
    “I’ll get it!” Radley danced to the door. It was Friday, and school was light-years away.
    “Ask who it is.”
    Radley put his hand on the knob and shook his head. He’d been going to ask. Probably. “Who is it?”
    “It’s Mitch.”
    “It’s Mitch!” Radley shouted, delighted. In the bedroom, Hester scowled and pulled the sweatshirt over her head.
    “Hi.” Breathless with excitement, Radley opened the door to his latest hero.
    “Hi, Rad, how’s it going?”
    “Fine. I don’t have any homework all weekend.” He reached out a hand to draw Mitch inside. “I wanted to come down and see you, but Mom said no ’cause you’d be working or something.”
    “Or something,” Mitch muttered. “Look, it’s okay with me if you come over. Anytime.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.” The kid was irresistible, Mitch thought as he ruffled the boy’s hair. Too bad his mother wasn’t as friendly. “I thought you might like this.” Mitch handed him the rolled sketch.
    “Oh, wow.” Awestruck, reverent, Radley stared at the drawing. “Jeez, Commander Zark and the
Second Millennium
. Can I have it, really? To keep?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I gotta show Mom.” Radley turned and dashed toward the bedroom as Hester came out. “Look what Mitch gave me. Isn’t it great? He said I could keep it and everything.”
    “It’s terrific.” She put a hand on Radley’s shoulder as she studied the sketch. The man was certainly talented, Hester decided. Even if he had chosen such an odd way to show it. Her hand remained on Radley’s shoulder as she looked over at Mitch. “That was very nice of you.”
    He liked the way she looked in the pastel sweats, casual, approachable, if not completely relaxed. Her hair was down too, with the ends just sweeping short of her shoulders. Parted softly on the side and unpinned, it gave her a completely different look.
    “I wanted to thank Rad.” Mitch forced himself to look away from her face, then smiled at the boy. “You helped me through a block last weekend.”
    “I did?”