[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
“It’s weird,” David said, fidgeting a little. “Dad didn’t know much about her family, so I just kind of put away all of those questions and assumed I’d never get to ask them. But the…the need to know never quite went away.”
“Uncle Phelan can tell you a lot of stories,” Lin said.
“Maybe even too many,” Tory added with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “He’s filled our heads with one or two that I’m pretty sure pissed off our parents.”
“If I didn’t make them angry sometimes, I wouldn’t be doing my job,” Phelan said, slanting a smile at the pair. Of course, their anger was only rarely directed at me. The stories were expected—in some ways, I think even a relief. They knew what I was keeping from the kids. His gaze lingered on Lin for a moment longer than Tory and his smile shrank ever-so-slightly. Except Thom and Marin never had a chance to object to the stories I told Lin after they were gone, did they?
They wouldn’t have gainsaid him any of it—he was sure of that, especially in Marin’s case—but it still ached sometimes that he never even got to ask.
They would understand. They would understand.
He tore his gaze from Lin, though not fast enough that none of the others in the room noticed how his gaze had lingered there for longer than he’d intended. He focused on David again, taking a deep breath. “What would you like to know?”
David blinked. “What?”
“About the family. What would you like to know?”
“I don’t think—”
“I imagine that it would be as illuminating for Lin and Tory as it would be for you,” Phelan said slowly. “Especially considering why you’re all here.”
David’s eyes widened. “Then you—”
“Whose lips do you think she got that prophecy from?”
