Victoria marveled over John’s performance with the children of the reading hour. The patience he took to speak to those who had questions or who blurted out their own observations, was fascinating to watch. Only an hour ago, they were negotiating the terms of their sordid affair. John sat before her and the children, a giant man on a tiny stool, acting out the silly voices of each character and showing each page to his audience. He was almost a defanged and gentler version of the man she’d kissed in the stacks. Victoria blushed at the memory. Jesus, I am not compartmentalizing well...

John’s broad shoulders shook with laughter as a towheaded boy of five revealed that his older sister must have been a witch because of her nasty attitude. He countered lightly with a diplomatic answer. “Sometimes witches get cranky when they don’t want to be bothered.” He tipped his head with a curious smile. “But other times, they’re very sweet and they love their little brothers, right?”

“I guess,” said the little boy kneeling on the carpet. He had been a squirmy child the entire time John read. Victoria couldn’t help but notice him because he kept bumping into other children. “So my sister is a good witch?”

John shrugged. “It sounds like it. You have to remember that witches are just like you and me. They love and laugh and cry, but there’s a small difference...”

“What?” the children shouted. Now all of them were interested in the existence of witches. Victoria cringed inwardly. This was definitely not a yarn she would spin for kids. She didn’t have the talent to talk to small children, let alone tell them lies. Everything her parents had told her as a child was direct and forthright. The mystery of Santa Claus had been cleared up when she was nine and asked her mother how their family would be found if they moved to another base. Katherine had cut a glance to Archie, who looked visibly perplexed by the question, before breaking it all the way down for young Victoria.

Victoria glanced at the few mothers who hung out, she noticed their overall lack of concern. Either they were flipping through their magazines or on their phones.

John put down his book, Ten Little Ghosts, and leaned closer to his captive audience. With his forearms resting on his thighs, tattoos in full view, he explained his little theory. “It’s magic, of course. Witches don’t like to talk about it because they don’t want people to treat them different.”

“What kind of magic do they have, Mr. John?” a young girl asked. Victoria frowned. He was really digging himself deep, but he didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Oh, well, let’s see...” He pursed his lips and gave them a serious look. “Witches are really good with animals, they know what animals need and take great care of them.”