The enemy emerged from beneath his bed in sinister, deviously-moving ranks, but the vigilant defenders did not fail to notice and repel them. As he played, he heard, from time to time, the faint tinkling of the door chime, followed by muted greetings, sung high or rumbled low. These were his cousins, his uncle, Aunt Inger’s friend Lily. As the gloom of the day began to deepen in the late afternoon, he looked up to see his mother gazing fondly at him from the threshold of his bedroom, obscured by the shadow of the open door.

“Come down and say hello to everyone,” she said.

They were at the top of the stairs. Lucas could hear the family voice meshed in a subdued music below. He was struck by the almost furtive way everyone spoke and again thought of some nice surprise that might be waiting for him. His mother, then, turned to face him when she was few steps down, the better to fix his eyes with her own.

“Just remember to keep away from the kitchen until we’re done in there,” she said.

This was a command he was always given on these occasions, and it had a special status. He knew his parents doted on him, and were forgiving to a fault, but this was one of the few iron rules they’d established. Once, when the distinctive creak of the kitchen door caught his attention and he’d gone without thinking to peek inside, his father had stepped in front of him, springing up like a mythological soldier, to bar his way.

“Go read with your Auntie Inger,” he’d said. He spoke in the even tone that he always used, but there was a startled look in his eye that Lucas did not fail to notice, although he didn’t comprehend it. His friends, however, had all told him about inexplicably firm rules in their families, and even arbitrary commands, so he assumed this was one of those adult secrets that he would come to understand in time.

“I will,” he told his father.