“Oh,” I say.
“Daisy’s really smart!” Ike exclaims. “Uncle Adam said we get to keep all the puppies no matter how many she has. I hope she has a hundred.”
I’m aware of Tomasetti coming around the front of the Tahoe and kneeling to pet the dogs. “Your uncle home?” he asks.
“Uncle Adam’s in the kitchen,” Samuel replies.
“He don’t know how to make pancakes, so we had to go to McDonald’s.”
“Yeah, but we like McDonald’s,” Samuel adds, nodding.
Ike crosses to Tomasetti and looks down at the Border collie. “She likes it when you scratch her like this.”
I laugh outright when he does a spider thing with his little-boy fingers and the dog groans and growls and begins to wriggle. “See? Ain’t she funny?”
“Can I help you?”
I look up to see Adam Slabaugh coming down the sidewalk, shrugging into an insulated jacket. He looks even thinner than the last time I saw him. But his blue eyes are alive this morning, and I know that despite the grief of losing his brothers, sister-in-law, and nephew, the three surviving children have filled him with optimism and hope.
Giving Daisy a final pat, Tomasetti straightens and crosses to Slabaugh, and the two men shake. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
Slabaugh sighs. “I wish it could have happened another way.”
“I understand,” Tomasetti responds.
I join the men and motion toward the two boys, who are a few yards away, playing with the dogs. “How are they?”
Adam grimaces. “Surprisingly good, considering. I didn’t know what to tell them about Mose, so they don’t know yet. They cried themselves to sleep last night, especially little Ike. I walked into their room at bedtime and they both said prayers for their parents. It breaks my heart.”
The picture he paints is incredibly sad, and for a too long moment, I can’t speak because I’m afraid I’m going to cry. Kids need their parents, especially when they’re young. I want to tell him that, but I don’t trust my voice not to betray me.
“I know it’s a cliché,” Tomasetti tells him, “but kids really are amazingly resilient.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” I say. And then I ask the question that’s been tearing me up inside. “How’s Salome?”
He offers a grim look. “She hasn’t stopped crying. Barely speaks to me. Stays in her room. Last night, she woke up screaming.” He shrugs, looking lost. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just hugged her.”
“She’ll probably need some counseling,” Tomasetti offers.
I nod in agreement. “I can call you with some names and numbers,” I add.
“I sure would appreciate that.” Slabaugh looks relieved. “She worked herself up so bad, she threw up.”
That makes me think of her pregnancy, and I wonder if he knows. I wonder how she’ll manage at such a young age without a woman in her life. “Do you know she’s going to have a baby?” I ask.
“She told me.” He shakes his head, looks down at the ground. “I don’t understand, but I’ll support her.” His gaze meets mine. “This is all so new to me. I’m doing my best, but I just don’t know if it’s enough.”
Silence falls over us, and Tomasetti gets us back on track. “We’re here to get final statements.”
“You need to speak with the children?” Slabaugh grimaces. “I really hate to put them through anything more.”
“I’ll do my best not to upset them,” Tomasetti assures him.
Slabaugh glances at me, and I know he’s wondering why I’m here. “I’m on administrative leave,” I explain. “I just wanted to see the kids. See how they’re doing.”
Nodding, Slabaugh motions toward the house. “Well, we may as well get this over with. I’ll make coffee. I think Salome’s in her room. Ike and Samuel—” He looks over where the two boys were a moment ago, cups his hands around his mouth, and calls out their names. “It’s like trying to keep up with a tornado.” But he smiles. “They’re probably in the barn. Go on to the house while I fetch them.”
He starts toward the barn; on impulse, I stop him. “I’ll get them,” I say. “You two go ahead and get started.”
He nods. Tomasetti gives me a knowing look, then the two men start toward the house. I stand there on the sidewalk and watch them disappear inside. I’m not sure why I’m delaying my meeting with Salome. I want to see her. But I don’t know how she will react. I’m afraid she’ll blame me for Mose’s death.