The hands at the ends of the arms hanging awkwardly at the kid’s side were disproportionate.
The kid’s abdomen was visible at the bottom of a shirt Bart swore he just bought for the kid a month ago.
They were in the shadow of the Michikaw lighthouse they just toured, and Bart could see his stepson eyeing some kind of roadside carnival less than a half mile up the road.
“Danton, when the caretaker asked if you had any questions, you looked like you had one, but hesitated. Why? Don’t hesitate. Go for what you want in life.”
Danton scuffled the grass near the rocky point with his feet, squinted toward his stepdad, into the setting sun.
“Want me to go back up and ask him?”
Bart was shocked. Didn’t even have to dangle a trip to the carnival.
“Sure. Bet the old guy would like that. Private tour was a favor to your mom.”
Danton hesitated, then walked up the cobbled steps outside the lighthouse, through the red door.
Elias Lehto was spraying disinfectant on the black interior lookout railing, paint starting to bubble a bit in some places.
Heard the footsteps coming quickly up the 68 feet of stairs and figured the kid left his phone. The steps were way too fast to have been the father.
He glanced around the lighthouse, the angled photos under glass, didn’t see a phone.
The kid got up the stairs, barely winded.
Athletic.
Looked like he’d be a tall one when the growth spurt fully bloomed.
Elias remembered those years, not too fondly.
“Whatcha need son, forget something?”
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