“They might if I ask, but I meant he deals in guns. We’ll make sure we’re well protected.”
I gape, at a loss for words. “Gran, you don’t even know how to hold a gun.”
“Says who?” she tosses back with a wry grin. “It’s been a few decades, but we’ll go to the range for a few practice shots. Petra here will need the practice.”
Mom shrugs as if to say,I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right.
I stare dumbfounded at the two of them, thinking that this day can’t get any crazier. Sure, Gran grew up during a tough time in the city, but she’sGran. She bakes banana bread and does large-print Sudoku. And Mom has never said one word about ever having shot a gun before. She hates opening biscuit tubes because the pop makes her jump.
“Who are you people?” I say with equal parts wonder and jest. The funny part is, I shouldn’t be shocked. Gran is a wild card, for sure, and Mom is feisty as hell when she gets riled. I wouldn’t even be all that surprised if they already had a gun hidden in the apartment somewhere. I’ve come to expect the unexpected with the two of them. If I had to label my own role in our little family unit, I’d say I’m the glue that binds us. Growing up with two such bold personalities and my own personalchallenges to overcome has made me rather adaptable and even-tempered. For the most part.
Mom smirks. “Dad liked knowing we could protect ourselves. Probably should have done the same for you.”
I see a warm glint brighten Gran’s eyes. “My Milo was one of the good ones. He was always looking to take care of us.”
“Too bad there’s not more like him,” Mom mutters as she gets up to start cooking dinner. “So what’s the plan? Where can we hide you for the next six months?”
“You really think he’ll let it go by then?” I ask with a degree of hope.
“I think we only plan for six months at a time.”
Oh. Okay. I suppose that’s reasonable.
“I don’t have any idea where to go.” I prop my elbow on the table and rest my chin in my hand. “Sachi would be happy to help, but I’m scared to endanger her. Plus, her place is tiny. She and her roommate are already packed in there.”
“It needs to be somewhere unconnected to you,” Gran offers.
“What, like a shelter?” I ask warily. I shouldn’t be choosy, but a homeless shelter sounds scary.
“No,” Mom says adamantly. “I’d rather empty my savings to pay for a motel before sending you to one of those places.”
“I don’t like that option, but I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to know of a place if I have no connection to it.”
“A shelter is too visible, anyway,” Gran adds. “Definitely not an option.”
The room goes silent as we all contemplate the dilemma until a screeching sounds from the television. I look at the screen and see a bald eagle gliding over water before snatching a fish from below the surface. Gran had been watching PBS when I got home, and a nature show has come on after her program.
Seeing the spectacular creature gives me a flicker of an idea.
It’s crazy—ludicrous even—but it’s all I’ve got.
“When I was at school, we had an adjunct professor teaching photography,” I start to explain. “He was young and really cool—he had us call him Ricky instead of Professor Auburn, and he hosted parties when he was in town—stuff like that. As part of his photography career, he goes away on long expeditions to shoot random animals like tiny frogs in the Amazon or the rutting season for a rare species of deer in China. His adventures are fascinating, so he sends out a sort of email newsletter updating friends and family on occasion. I just got one of his emails a week ago saying he was spending the next month in Iceland chronicling the migration patterns of the narwhal. I bet he’d be willing to let me stay at his place while he’s gone, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to reach him. He’s usually off-grid on his trips.”
“Best not to leave a trail anyway,” Gran says as though she’s worked secret missions all her life. When this is over, she and I are gonna have a talk.
“I guess that’s true, but it means I would have to break into his place.”
“What other choice do you have?” Mom asks softly.
Reluctance tugs my lips into a frown. “I have a week. I’ll go by and see if anyone is staying there first. I don’t have to decide right this second.”
Gran stands, then disappears to the bedroom she shares with Mom. The two generously offered to give me my own room when I graduated from high school. I couldn’t afford to go out on my own. Now, Gran sleeps in the twin bed against the wall in Mom’s room that I occupied for so long.
I really do love these two women with all my heart. We may get on each other’s nerves sometimes, but we are always there for one another when it counts. I will never forgive myself if something happens to them.
A new round of tears is burning the backs of my eyes when Gran returns and hands me something like a bundle of metal toothpicks bound with a rubber band. I stare at the offering, my brows furrowed in concentration.
“What are these?” I ask.
