Little Sister Song (Wynter Wild #1)

Chapter 6: Hot Chocolate

The bus arrived in Seattle at 4:30PM. Wynter had been traveling for almost forty hours with little sleep and nothing but the sandwich to eat.

She stumbled out of the bus and found her way to the taxi rank. She waited in line, shivering, until she reached the front, and got into the back seat of the taxi as she'd seen other people doing. She showed the address to the driver.

He eyed her suspiciously. "You got money?"

She gave him a quick peek at the cash in the paper bag, and he seemed satisfied. She'd counted it several times on the bus. She had nine dollar bills.

The taxi pulled out into busy traffic. The meter ticked over, even when they were stopped at lights. Five dollars, six... How far away was Caleb's house? Nine dollars. Ten. She clutched the paper bag. She couldn't pay. She should give the driver what she had and ask him to stop. Joy hadn't covered this situation in her instructions. She curled up and refused to think about it.

The taxi stopped and Wynter woke from a doze. It was dark now.

"Here we are, young lady. Seventeen-fifty."

She handed the driver the paper bag and got out while he counted the cash. They were in a long, quiet street lined with bare trees. The air was still, with a cold dampness she'd never breathed before. The single-story house before her stood in a row of similar-sized houses, each a different shape. A driveway led to a wide metal door, a bike was chained on the porch, and the street light revealed a neatly cut lawn. Wynter checked the address on the slip of paper, though she'd memorized it hours ago, and checked the number on the gate.

She went through the gate and started up the driveway.

"Hey!" The driver had gotten out and was calling over the roof of the taxi. "You're eight-fifty short."

Wynter ignored him. She turned down a narrow path cut through the front yard, climbed two steps to the porch, and knocked on the door. Surely Caleb would give the driver his money.

A boy answered the door. He was only a few years older than her—definitely not Caleb, who was supposed to be older than Joy. This boy was tall with dark scruffy curls and blue eyes, and had a pen in his hand. He looked at her very oddly, like he'd never seen a human being before in his life.

"Is Caleb Henry Fairn here?"

"He's not home yet." The boy's curious expression deepened.

"Thank you. I'll wait for him."

She sat on the porch, facing the street. She expected the boy to close the door. Instead, he stepped out.

"Uh, who are you?"

"I'm waiting for Caleb."

The taxi driver was marching up the driveway. "She owes me eight-fifty. You go in and tell your parents. Go on."

"They're not here," the boy told him. He moved in front of Wynter. "Are you supposed to be here?"

"Yes."

"You sure about that?"

"Joy sent me."

He was suddenly very interested. "Joy? Where is she?"

Wynter wasn't sure she should say more. "When will Caleb be home? I can only talk to Caleb."

"I'm his brother, Jesse. You can talk to me."

So, now there were two brothers Joy had never mentioned.

"Only Caleb," she said. "Only Caleb."

Jesse shook his head and took a phone from his back pocket. The driver tried to ask for his money again. Jesse waved him into silence and called someone.

"There's a girl on the porch," Jesse said into the phone. "A kid. She's in sandals and shorts and she showed up in a taxi. She says Joy sent her. And the taxi driver wants eight-fifty." He listened for a moment, staring down at Wynter, before ending the call. "Caleb's on his way. He works at the base, not far from here. Come inside and wait." To the driver he called out, "I'll get your money. Gimme a second."

He went in, hesitating in the doorway, waiting for Wynter to follow. She wasn't supposed to go inside any house without Caleb. This might be a trick. Maybe it wasn't Caleb on the phone. Maybe this wasn't Caleb's brother.

She didn't move. Jesse gave up, went inside and returned moments later with a ten-dollar bill for the driver, who didn't ask if he wanted change and didn't give him any.

"He owes you one dollar fifty!" Wynter cried as the driver returned to his car.

"Don't worry about it."

Wynter didn't worry about it. She was too relieved to see the taxi leave.

"You look cold," Jesse said.

She was freezing. Winter nights in Tucson were cold, but not wet like this. It was an interesting sensation. Jesse disappeared inside again and brought out a blanket. He draped it around her shoulders and sat beside her on the porch step.

"You gonna tell me your name now?"

Just her name—no harm in that. "Wynter."

"Like the season?"

"Yes. With a Y."

"Wynter. That's a cool name. And Joy sent you. Joy Fairn?"

In the Light, Joy's second name was not Fairn. But if Harry Fairn was Joy's father, and Caleb Fairn her brother, then Jesse would think Joy's name was Fairn. Wynter gave a tight nod.

"Joy is my big sister, y'know," Jesse said. "Where is she now?"

Wynter sucked on her lips and said nothing. She shivered under the blanket.

"If you won't come inside, I'll get you a hot drink, okay?"

In a few minutes he was back with a dark, sickly-sweet smelling drink in a mug. She sipped it. The sugar hit her brain like a sledgehammer.

"Oh, it's good," she said.

"I know, right?" He grinned and she found herself shyly returning the smile.

She sipped again. Warmth slid down to her belly.

Now he frowned. "You've never had hot chocolate before?"

"No."

He scrutinized her. "You've come up from Arizona, haven't you."

She tensed under the blanket. How did he know that? She put down the mug and pulled the edges of the blanket closer around her.

Jesse didn't ask any more questions. He stood up and leaned against the porch pillar, looking out at the street, and sometimes staring down at her. At last a black truck pulled up in the driveway and its headlights flicked off.

"That's Caleb." Jesse pushed himself off the pillar to stand straight.

A man got out of the truck. In the dark Wynter couldn't see his face. He was even taller than Jesse, solidly built, and he wore a dark coat and pants and black boots. He strode purposefully across the yard toward them, nodding a greeting to Jesse.

"She says her name's Wynter," Jesse said, adding "with a Y," like it was very important.

Wynter struggled to her feet, her legs stiff with cold. Backlit by the streetlight, Caleb's face was in shadow. His hair was dark like Jesse's, but cut short and neat. He loomed over her. For an instant she felt it was all a mistake. She wasn't supposed to be here. Maybe she wasn't here. Maybe she'd never left Arizona and this was all a dream.

No, this was real. She'd make it real. She resisted the impulse to take a step back. She stood her ground.

Then Caleb smiled at her—a tense, confused smile, but she recognized it. Recognized him, somehow.

"Wynter. Nice to meet you. I'm Caleb Fairn." He stuck out his hand, very formally. She shook it—she'd never shaken an adult's hand before. His hand was huge and warm. "You're ice cold."

"She wouldn't come inside," Jesse said.

"Let's go in."