This time, the kid dumped his backpack and drawings in themiddle of the floor and didn’t hesitate to examine her figurines more closely. He gasped loudly. “Whales!” he cried with delight.
“Dolphins,” Lorna corrected, and picked up the bag of cookies Mrs. Foster had given him. “Come into the kitchen, please.”
He followed her and laughed when he entered the kitchen. “There’s more!” he said, pointing at the army of figurines lined up on the windowsill and open shelves.
“All right, already, so I have a few figurines.” She tried to turn him away from them, but that was impossible, as they were everywhere. Her neck felt prickly hot. Was it shame? She was hell-bent on changing the subject. “What’s your name, anyway?” she asked as she helped him up onto a stool at the bar.
“Benjamin. That was my grandfather’s name. Not my dad’s dad, because his name is Joe. But my mom’s dad. My mom called me Benny. But my dad calls me Bean. Everyone calls me Bean. You can call me Bean too.”
“Okay, Bean.” She’d never seen anyone with him but his dad. “Where’s your mom?” she asked as she opened the fridge. Nothing was in there but a few containers of yogurt and some sparkling water.
“She’s dead,” the kid said matter-of-factly.
Lorna stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. She half expected him to be joking. But Bean calmly returned her gaze. “Oh,” she said. “I... I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Do you have any juice?”
“I have milk. You want milk?”
“Yes!”
Was he ever not enthusiastic? She poured milk into a glass and set it before him. He drank thirstily.
“By the way,” she said as he pulled a Precious Moments figurine of a Christmas angel to him for inspection, “my mom is dead too.”
Bean paused to look at her.
Lorna nodded. She didn’t know why she needed to share that with him, but it felt important. “She had cancer. Was your mom sick?”
“Nope. A bus crashed into her.”
“Oh no,” Lorna said quickly, wincing in sympathy. “A car wreck, huh? Was anyone else hurt?”
“Not a car,” Bean said. He pushed the figurine away, then slugged enough milk to leave a mustache behind. “She was riding her bike. She liked to ride it a lot. My dad says she was a health butt.” He giggled.
“I think you mean a health nut.” Lorna opened the bag of cookies and handed one to him. “When did that happen?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I was six. I’m eight now.” He paused for a moment and looked off toward her living room. “I was six.”
She’d been much older when she lost her mother, but sometimes it still shocked her that she was without a mom.
Bean suddenly focused on her. “What’s your name?”
“Lorna.”
“Hi, Lorna!”
“Hi.”
He dunked part of the cookie into the glass of milk. “Guess what? I’m a Ranger Explorer. Did you know that?”
“I just learned your name, Bean, and therefore could not possibly know you are a Ranger Explorer. Moreover, I don’t even know what that is.” She settled onto a stool beside him.
“It’s for kids who want to be rangers and explorers.”
“Is that what you want to be? I can see how that sort of work would be rewarding, but I’d guess it’s a tough life. A lot of sleeping on the ground. And I bet it doesn’t pay as well as you think.”
He pressed his lips together in a perplexed frown. “But I’m going to discover the Arctic Circle,” he said with all seriousness.
