“Is this your youngest?” I asked, trying to look cheerful and interested.

“Yes, youngest of four,” she said, which explained her desperation about the dryer. “All the rest of ’em are at Little League baseball practice. It’ll be summer vacation soon, and they’ll be home for three months.”

Oh. I was out of things to say.

My unwilling companion sank back into her own grim thoughts, and I did my best to stay out. It was a struggle, because she was like a black hole of unhappy thoughts, kind of sucking me in with her.

Hunter came to stand in front of her, regarding her with open-mouthed fascination.

“Hello,” the woman said, making a great effort.

“Do you really want to run away?” he asked.

This was definitely an “oh shit” moment. “Hunter, we need to be going,” I said quickly. “Come on, now. We’re late, late!” And I picked Hunter up and carried him away, though he was squirming and wiggling in protest (and also much heavier than he looked). He actually landed a kick on my thigh, and I almost dropped him.

The mother in the play area was staring after us, her mouth agape, and her little boy had come to stand in front of her, puzzled at his playmate’s abrupt departure.

“I was having a good time!” Hunter yelled. “Why do we have to go?”

I looked him straight in the eyes. “Hunter, you be quiet until we’re in the car,” I said, and I meant every word. Carrying him through the restaurant while he was yelling had focused every eye on us, and I hadn’t enjoyed the attention. I’d noticed a couple of people I knew, and there would be questions to answer later. This wasn’t Hunter’s fault, but it didn’t make me feel any kinder.

As I buckled his seat belt, I realized I’d let Hunter get too tired and overexcited, and I made a mental note not to do that again. I could feel his little brain practically jiggling up and down.

Hunter was looking at me as though his heart were broken. “I was having a good time,” he said again. “That boy was my friend.”

I turned sideways to look him in the face. “Hunter, you said something to his mom that let her know you’re different.”

He was realistic enough to admit the truth of what I was saying. “She was really mad,” he muttered. “Moms leave their kids.”

His own mother had left him.

I thought for a second about what I could say. I decided to ignore the darker theme here. Hadley had left Remy and Hunter, and now she was dead and would never return. Those were facts. There was nothing I could do to change them. What Remy wanted me to do was to help Hunter live the rest of his life.