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He shouldn't. All reflexes, all logic told him it was a stupid, self-destructive move. His heart didn't care. He approached the danglinglimb, his head cocked to the side. "Hello?" He called. "Is someonethere?" He couldn't see anyone past the arm, the gloom of that dimalley hiding anything past the crooked elbow. "Is someone playing ajoke on me?" He called, reaching just now the corner that the armloomed from.There was a chuckle, soft, melodious, as he got within reach of theappendage. It reached out, and before Christopher could even flinch,two fingers had touched the center of his forehead. He gasped, thenfell dazed, as if suddenly consumed by fatigue. His eyes glazed overand his mouth fell slack. The chuckle came again, and slipping off ofhis forehead and tracing down his cheek and under his chin, Christopherwas compelled forward, towards the darkened bricks, mortar, and cementof the alley beyond.///The brick and mortar alley soon gave way to blue-green limestone,glittering with the. Every other paragraph was in Stephen's primitive handwriting, alternating with a paragraph in Tara's only slightly more feminine cursive. It was so juvenile and cutesy it was hard to believe they were the parents of a baby boy. Well, I had to remind myself, Tara was a parent. Stephen, even though he was trying to act like a dad to baby Kyle, was probably not the real father. They were enjoying their time together before they had to put Kyle into day care so they could both return to high school for their sophomore years.I also got a short letter from Jake, getting ready to leave for the University of Iowa. He wrote that he was thinking of walking on and trying out for the football team, but he had his doubts about if he would make it. If nothing else, he wrote, he would sign up for intramural football. As much as he loved football, I knew Jake had other plans. His primary goal was to go to pharmacy school so he could work at his father's drug store, and make a good life for himself.
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