Chapter 7: Soup

Emme's POV

Doc Barksdale came to my aunt's door on Thursday night with a pot of chicken soup in both hands.

I watched from the kitchen window as he climbed the porch steps.

He took them one at a time, with a hand on the rail.

My aunt opened the door but didn't move out of it.

"Evening, ma'am," he said. "I won't stay. I only wanted to see that she's eating."

"She's eating."

"Then I'll set this down and go."

She looked at the pot, and then at me.

I nodded.

I had known him since I was twenty-five.

Some part of me was still waiting for him to turn out to be the man I had always thought he was.

She stepped aside.

He put the soup on the stove. He turned around, and his eyes were red.

"Kiddo," he said. "May I?"

He meant Eli. He was awake in the bouncer, kicking at his socks.

I picked him up and handed him over.

Doc held him the way he had held him in the delivery room, with one big hand under his whole back.

"There you are," he whispered. "There's the best boy in Texas."

Eli grabbed his glasses and pulled.

For a long moment Doc just stood there with his head bent, letting him.

Then he lifted his thumb and touched the top of Eli's ear, right at the front, where the little pit was.

He didn't say anything.

His other hand came up, and I watched him rub the same place on his own right ear.

I had seen him do it a hundred times. It was a habit.

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