He's heavier than I thought.
I hoist Jonathan higher to get a better grip on his tiny body and watch from the corner of my eyes as James leads the kids toward a crowded stall. The children want to visit the "pretty and sparkling" castle, but for that, we need to buy tickets first. They also want to go with Bryan, something I'm not sure will be possible.
The pamphlet doesn't mention whether the ice castle is wheelchair-friendly, but judging by how narrow the entrance is, I doubt it is.
Still, James will ask the clerk just in case.
In the meantime, I'm taking over the carrying duty. I'm not heartless enough to let the poor guy handle the three "kids" all at once on his own. It's the first time I'm holding onto Jonathan, and, yeah, I think I can understand James's conflicting feelings now.
'Cause darn, I have a patriarch drooling on my shoulder. Never thought that day would happen.
Anyway… My brother's intense gaze is about to bore a hole in my back. The silence is killing me, and I'd love nothing more than for him to open his mouth and tell me what's going through his head. That darn poker face of his is annoying as fuck.
"—How was Melissa's funeral?"
The question startles me, and my fingers search to curl into fists, digging into Jonathan. The boy shifts in my arms, letting out a small groan of discomfort. Immediately, I loosen my hold. Patriarch or not, an iron grip mustn't be what I'd call comfortable.
"…It was a shit show," I grunt. I don't have it in me to lie about our friend's burial and pretend everything went well. "Miria made the most of it and gathered sympathy for her cause, while Danick was his usual prick. To be honest, it looked more like a political dinner than a funeral. You did well not to attend."
"I heard our father went."
Unsaid words linger, and I feel my nerves grow taut. Bryan is probing. He's being sensible and giving me a perch, but not one that is too obvious. It allows me to play dumb if I want to play dumb.
My brother isn't brainless.
No, I'd even go as far as to say that he's the twin who inherited the brain, and I've inherited, well, the leftover. So, there's no way he hasn't noticed that the day I asked where our father was when I'd been abducted coincides with the day I met our father after months of silent radio. He's just been tactful enough not to ask questions about what happened—that is, until now.
Bryan waited for us to be face-to-face before poking around. That's just like him.
"Yeah, he was there." I clear my throat. "Caroline, too, for all that matters." That's all I'm willing to say, and I change the topic of conversation. I don't care if I have the subtlety of a brick. "What about you? Did you manage to do what you had to do?"
"More or less," Bryan shrugs, not pushing the matter further. "Things have been hectic at work lately. I don't have much time to take a breather. Today is an exception. Or more like, one of my colleagues forced me to take half a day off."
He pauses to glance at the kids. We can only see their bouncing heads when they jump out of the waiting line to run around their uncle. James seems to be having some difficulty reigning in their excitement.
"Although I guess taking a break from time to time isn't such a bad thing." There's an emotion in his voice I can't quite decipher, but before I can ponder over it, his phone rings. My brother freezes for a second, then grimaces, his nose crinkling up in annoyance. "Well, here goes my break. Give me a minute."
I wave away his concerns as he pulls out his phone from his pocket and brings it to his ear. I don't intend to eavesdrop, but he doesn't seem to care if I listen in, anyway.
"Banker speaking."
I can hear the faint buzzing of a voice. The words are indistinct, however. It's clearly nothing joyful, though, judging by the dark expression that now looms over my brother's face.
"Another one? When?"
The buzzing voice replies something, and Bryan clicks his tongue. He looks as if he is about to kill someone, so I wisely say nothing.
I actually don't know much about what his job entails, as we never sat down to discuss it in detail. I only know he works for the government. Considering the state of his legs, he's most likely not an active field duty agent, but since he has the brain, I wouldn't be surprised if he's on the intelligence-gathering team and sorts out data.
"—I'll be on my way."
He turns off the phone, then offers me an apologetic smile. It resembles Jordan's.
"Sorry, I need to go."
"Don't worry about it." I smile back, albeit awkwardly. I've forgotten how to smile at my brother. "It seemed urgent."
"Unfortunately." He breathes out, and mist hovers in front of his mouth. "It's not something I can put on hold, so you'll have to excuse me. As for what to tell the kids…"
I stiffen. My ears are already ringing. Urgh, they're going to bawl their eyes out, aren't they?
I'm just about to beg him to wait until the kids return before leaving, just so he can at least tell them goodbye in person and help lessen the blow of his early departure, when I catch a glimpse of the children racing toward us.
Their little faces are bright red in anger.
We haven't told them yet that Bryan is leaving, right…? Have their sights warned them or something?
"These meanies say dad-but—" Ellena gets interrupted mid-sentence, Elois having elbowed her flank. She blinks, then pretends to cough before continuing, "They said Uncle couldn't go into the ice castle with us!"
Oh, that's why they're angry.
"Well, I need to leave, anyway." Bryan doesn't beat around the bush, and I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. "I'd love to stay, but I can't postpone work."
I suck in a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the incoming tantrum. I instinctively put a hand on one of Jonathan's ears, cradling his head in the crook of my neck to press his other ear against me so the wailing wouldn't pierce his eardrums, while supporting the rest of his body with my other arm.
But neither Elois nor Ellena screams in horror at the sudden news. Instead, Ellena leans on Bryan's legs, propping herself up on his thighs to kiss his cheek.
"Ok, be careful out there!"
Elois imitates his sister and kisses Bryan's other cheek, "And if you see a big wooden box, open it!"
"Remember to open it!"
"This time, and the next one, too!"
My brother frowns, and I feel like the air was knocked out of my lungs. I don't like what those words imply—I really don't. What have their sights shown them, now? 'Cause this advice is definitely linked to their sights. I mean, it's too incongruous not to be.
The thing is, Bryan doesn't know anything about their sights. I'm not sure he's going to take their words seriously, and I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't, even though he definitely should.
The kids aren't throwing a tantrum and are giving him words of advice instead. I won't ignore those warning signs.
"I don't know what you're set out to do," I say, pushing down the lump in my throat, "but if you see a big wooden box, open it."
He looks at me weirdly, and I force a smile. James fiddles with his scarf by my side, not daring to utter a word.
"Can I ask why?" Bryan narrows his eyes.
"No." I shook my head. I know this is going to pique his interest, but what can I do? The kids went out of their way to warn him, and I have to make sure my brother doesn't discard their words as mere children's gibberish. "Just keep that bit in mind, and don't ask questions."
There's a second of silence before he sighs, "Alright, I'll keep this in mind."
He might just be playing along to please the kids, but at least he shouldn't forget about their advice. If he does see a wooden box, I expect him to open it, just in case. I don't know why the kids want him to open it, but it's always better to listen to what their sights say than ignore it and face consequences we can't afford.