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her fingers along my arm. “But unfortunately, there’s more to this sad little tale.”
    I don’t answer. I’m afraid to.
    “According to Dr. Fratiani,” she continues, “the situation went to hell in a hurry today.”
    “Oh, jeez . . .” Fratiani is Devon’s principal. Adding to the problem, this is the woman who replaced Jenna after she resigned, so there’s always been an underlying note of territorial friction on Fratiani’s part.
    My wife goes on. “Apparently, one of the kids got a little too excited over my apple cobbler. He tried to outbid a boy who’d offered up his Xbox.”
    I cover my face with one hand, motion with the other for her to continue.
    “Kid Number Twovolunteered his mother’s Maserati, which our son graciously accepted, then demanded payment. That’s when the fight broke out.”
    “Oh, God. There was a fight . . .”
    “There was, indeed.”
    “Anybody get hurt?”
    She shakes her head, expression grateful, bemused even, but nevertheless distraught. “Luckily. But Devon got very upset. He left school and walked home.”
    Tension pinches the back of my neck, and from Jenna’s slightly narrowed eyes, I can tell she knows where this one is going. Where my worries always do.
    “It’s okay,” she rushes to reassure me.
    “It’s really not.” And as my words come out, the Donny Ray case—the children he abducted and murdered—again puts a stranglehold on my mind.
    “Chris, he was fine . . . Everything is okay.”
    “But it might not have been. He left school, and nobody knew where he was. Kids can’t just walk the streets alone in the middle of the afternoon these days.”
    “Sweetie, I know what you’re saying, but the media exaggerates those risks. The chances that anything could have happened are so slim. You’re forgetting that I’ve worked in the school system for years. I know a lot about the dangers kids face.”
    “But Iwork in a psychiatric hospital. I see the other side. Hell, I work with it every day. I know what kind of evil is out there. The predators and killers.”
    “I get that—I really do—but look, school is just a few minutes away, and the important thing is that he made it home safe.”
    “And the other thing? The part where he might not have?”
    “I had a talk with him about that and explained the importance of safety. He’s promised to never leave school without permission again.”
    I shift my weight, cross my arms.
    “Chris, please stop worrying about him so much,” she says. “Overreacting causes more harm than any potential danger he might face.”
    “I got a new patient today,” I say, trying to explain my reaction.
    “And?”
    “Ten kids are missing. They think this guy killed them. The last one was Devon’s age.”
    Jenna’s lips part with unsettled understanding, and all at once I know she gets the full context of my edginess from earlier this evening. Admittedly, I do worry too much about Devon’s safety but now perhaps reasonably so.
    This conversation has become way too dark, even for me. Leave work at work , I think. Pulling Jenna close, I place an arm around her, and she again rests her head on my shoulder.
    “Well, there is one good thing,” she offers brightly.
    “What’s that?”
    “Kid’s got a good business sense. Could really pay off for us someday.”
    I shift my shoulder, raise Jenna’s head so we’re face-to-face, and inspect her for evidence of sarcasm.
    She manages to hold an impressively solemn expression in place. For a few seconds.
    Then she cracks.
    Now we’re both laughing, and I’m reminded again that life is indeed all about the contrasts and perspectives.

7
    IT’S JUST A SHADOW, DARLING
    My mother was the classic example of magical thinking in motion. A woman who believed she could manipulate reality simply by ignoring it. A woman who preferred to avoid the complexities of life rather than live in the messy parts.
    Southern raised, born and bred beautiful, Virginia Lucille Chambers