In the Shadows

shape of the name, the motion of the lips it required.

The silent young man sat straight in his chair. Until that

movement Charles had forgotten he was there. The boy was glar-

ing in alarm at something, so Charles followed his gaze.

The mustachioed man’s eyes followed Cora’s movement and a

slow, creeping leer spread across his face until his upper lip disap-

peared beneath his mustache. Charles fought the urge to mimic

the other boy’s posture of alarm. Cora continued, oblivious. When

she passed the man, Charles saw him breathe in deeply, as though

inhaling her.

Mrs. Johnson, wearing the same white apron as Cora over a

body thickened by age and childbirth, followed her daughter

with a pitcher of lemonade garnished with fresh mint. She paused

in front of the young man, who shook his head slowly, then

looked deliberately at the man, then Cora, then back to Mrs.

Johnson.

In the sudden firming of her jaw and tightening of her lips,

Charles knew the threat had been communicated. She nodded

and the boy let his eyes drift to the corner where the wall met the

ceiling.

Interesting. Charles settled back to watch how it would play

out. He liked learning how things worked — automobiles, facto-

ries, people. People were not so very different from machines.

Once you figured out how all of the parts interacted, you could

very nearly tell what would happen before it occurred. It was clear

the mysterious boy was part of the machinery of this household,

and thus worth noting.

After supper, Charles engaged Thom in a silly argument over

something in the paper as an excuse to linger after all the guests

besides the young man left. When Cora came in to clear dishes,