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"Great. I'll bring the rest of the equipment you need."
"How much more equipment do I need?"
"A hard hat, a light, maybe knee pads."
"Sounds like a boffo first date," I said.
"It will be," he said. His voice was soft, low, and somehow more private than just sitting in my car. It wasn't Jean-Claude's magical voice, but then what was?
"Turn right here," he said, pointing to a side street. "Third house on the right."
I pulled into a short, blacktopped driveway. The house was half brick and some pale color. It was hard to tell in the dark. There were no streetlights to help you see. You forget how dark the night can be without electricity.
Richard unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."
"Do you need help getting him inside?" My hand was on the key as I asked.
"No, I got it. Thanks, though."
"Don't mention it."
He stared at me. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Not yet," I said.
He smiled, a quick flash in the darkness. "Good." He unlocked the back door behind him, and got out of the car. He leaned in and scooped Stephen up, holding the blanket close so it didn't slide off. He lifted with his legs more than his back; weightlifting will teach you that. A human body is a lot harder to lift than even free weights. A body just isn't balanced as well as a barbell.
Richard shut the car door with his back. The back door clicked shut, and I unbuckled my seat belt so I could lock the doors. Through the still-open passenger side door Richard was watching me. Over the idling of the car's engine his voice carried, "Locking out the boogeymen?"
"You never know," I said.
He nodded. "Yeah." There was something in that one word that was sad, wistful, i
I closed the door and scooted back behind the steering wheel. I buckled my seat belt and put the car in gear. The headlights sparkled over Richard, Stephen's hair like a yellow splash in his arms. Richard was still staring at me. I left him in the dark in front of his house with the singing of autumn crickets the only sound.