* * *
Scotty liked lookingat the stars at night with his dad.
They sat together, looking up at the stars, so much more visible here out in the west than in the cities.
Scotty still looking up, said, “Which one is mommy on?”
His dad was trying to teach him the pictures in the stars, how the stars made different ones that were always the same. So, he knew the stars didn’t randomly move around all over. Once he found the star that was mommy’s he could always find it. So, he really wanted to know which one was hers.
The question, coming out of the blue, took Travis off guard, and hit him in stomach more than a punch would have.
Scotty must be missing his mother.
His son was full of questions.
In the past week he’d asked, ‘Why do ladybugs fly away?’ and then, “Why do mommies go to heaven?”
Travis gave the same answer they always gave Scotty. “Your mommy didn’t want to leave. She got very sick and couldn’t stay. She loved you very much.”
Though the answer seemed to satisfy the boy, enough that he didn’t keep talking about it, he might ask the same question again later.
A counselor had said this was normal and not to worry.
Tonight, he’d started out asking, “Why do dragonflies fly everywhere?” as he’d waved his arm around at the dragonflies who were abundant in the air that night.
That one was easy to answer. “They’re eating bugs,” Travis said. “Like mosquitoes. It’s a good thing.”
Scotty nodded, with that serious look on his face as they stood watching the dragonflies. “I like dragonflies. I don’t like mosquitoes. They bite, and make me itchy,” he said, and then launched into his next question. “Why do daddies go far away?”
There was a pattern, Travis noticed. First, Scotty would ask an easy question and then he’d follow it up with a zinger. Travis wondered if his son was a natural at this at five years of age, or if he was just that smart.
Travis had a cousin who was a genius so it could be in his genes.
This question, though. Travis could nail this one.
“Some dads go far away to fight bad guys who would hurt people,” he said.
Scotty didn’t miss a beat. “Did you used to fight bad guys?” he asked.
“Yes, son. I did,” Travis nodded. “As a SEAL I fought some very bad guys.”
“Good,” his son said with a nod. “Like the superheroes in my comic books.” Then he frowned and looked up at Travis. “Are there still lots of bad guys?”
“Yes, there are,” Travis said.
Scotty didn’t waste a second. “Are you goanna go away and fight them again?”
“No,” Travis said, “I’m not going far away anymore. I’m staying right here with you and only taking day jobs now. No more overnights.” He wanted to be at home to tuck Scotty in at night, while his son was still young, so his son would have that security. If Travis got a babysitter, it would be during the day.
Hank Patterson was fine with only putting him on day shifts for now, on local protection details. He was a great man to work for and cared about his employees. He’d understood Scotty needed the security of having his dad around at night, especially this first year that he was living with his dad.
Travis figured his son needed the reassurance right now, but in time he’d get used to his dad being around and wouldn’t keep asking that question.
“Let’s see if you can find the big dipper again,” Travis said, changing the subject. “Then it’s time to go home and get cleaned up for bed.”
“Okay,” Scotty said. “And then will you read me a story?”
“Always,” Travis said. It was his favorite time of night.
