He’d thought his task of babysitting Pip would be easy. Feed the boy, keep him mildly entertained, put him to bed—but on that first night the boy had cried out in his sleep, a chilling wail like a wounded dog. Why had they not expected this? They had snatched a child from his home—from his mother—and whisked him into the dark, cold night. Of course there would be fallout.

Pip had stayed awake for the entire drive to the shack, his eyes fixed on his father behind the wheel. Reed didn’t talk. He had given Pip no explanation as to what was happening, no words to patch up three years of absence. Spud had tried to get the father and son engaged by asking Pip if he had missed his father, but the boy remained mute. Spud even offered to drive so that Reed could sit in back with Pip, but Reed snapped at Spud, telling him that no one drove Reed’s vehicle other than Reed.

Spud tried to remember the stories that Reed had told him about how things had been before Sandy tore the family apart. There had been stories, hadn’t there? Tales of a loving father and son? Fishing trips? Playing in the snow? He was sure that there had—or maybe those had been Spud’s stories, memories of him and his father before his father died when Spud was only ten years old? He shook the thought away. They were doing the right thing—they were saving the boy.

On that first night at the shack, when Pip woke up screaming, Spud had run into the room to find him sitting up in bed, his eyes closed, his arms wrapped around his pillow. When Spud put his hand on the boy’s back, Pip’s eyes flashed open, and he kicked and flailed, backing himself into the corner at the head of the bed.

“Pip, it’s me, Spud.” He stepped back and flicked on the light. That didn’t ease the boy’s fear, so Spud smiled as warmly as he could manage. “It’s me… your buddy.”

Pip looked around as if searching for a monster, keeping a bear hug on his pillow. Spud took a step closer, approaching the boy as he might an animal. Spud had never before been responsible for a child, or spent any length of time with one, but he remembered his father’s gentleness. At the side of the bed, Spud took a knee and held out his hand. It was then that he saw the tear on Pip’s cheek. “What’s the matter?”

The boy looked around the room again. He didn’t answer.

Thinking that Pip might be looking for Reed, Spud said, “Your dad’s at work, but he’ll be here soon.” Spud had said those words to comfort Pip, but instead they caused him to grip the pillow tighter.

In a soothing tone, Spud whispered, “Hey… buddy… it’s okay. Ain’t no one or nothing gonna hurt you—not while I’m here. Don’t be scared.” He patted the mattress. “Go ahead. Lie down. I’ll stay right here.”