I Got Home From the Oil Rig Two Weeks Early and Found My Eight-Year-Old Son Cooking Dinner for Strangers—The Messages He Never Sent Explained Everything.
It never should have been one.”
He searched my face.
“Even if I burn dinner?”
“Especially if you burn the dinner.”
A week later, with the investigators’ okay, I took off the outside latch and moved the old lawn equipment into the garage.
I asked Finn what he thought we ought to do with the space.
He didn’t want to go anywhere near it yet.
I didn’t pressure him.