Chapter 4: Not Done Yet

My mother's nose wrinkled, and she took a step toward my door.

Pierce caught her hand.

"Mom, that's the cake," he said. "It's all over the floor. And the trash can hasn't been emptied since Tuesday."

"It's not the kitchen," my mother said. "It's coming from the hall."

"The hall runs right into the kitchen. It's the same air."

He pulled her gently toward the sink.

"Sit down, please. I feel dizzy."

That was all it took.

My mother forgot the smell as quickly as she had noticed it.

She sat him at the table and pressed the dishtowel to his cut.

"Don't talk, baby. Don't talk. I'll get you some aspirin."

I stood in the doorway with my hands out, and nobody looked at them.

Behind me, my bedroom door stayed shut.

Behind that door, my body was already changing in the summer heat.

"They'll smell it by supper," Ada said at my elbow.

She had followed me down the hall without a sound.

"Why can't they smell it now?"

"They can. They don't want to."

My father had stopped pacing.

He crouched in front of Pierce, with his big hands on his knees.

"Son," he said, low and careful. "I need you to be honest with me. The mission."

Pierce looked up.

"Did you finish it? Are you safe now? You're not going to die?"

I stopped breathing, which was ridiculous.

Pierce let a beat pass.

Then he took my father's hand in both of his.

"It's done, Dad," he said. "It's all done. I'm safe."

My father's face broke.

"Thank God," he said, and then he laughed, and then he put his forehead against Pierce's shoulder.

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