Free Sticks and Stones by Angèle Gougeon

rickety but good enough to use. She didn’t have many clothes anyway.
    “Do you think the police will find us?” she asked, testing the waters.
    Lem look startled, then he got this narrow-eyed look on his face, shaking his head hard. “No. They won’t take you away from us.” Sandra blinked, because she hadn’t even thought of that. Sure, she’d lie to the school and the kids and the town, but no one had ever bothered to take her away from her old home. Why would anyone bother now that she was almost happy?
    “I wanted to ask…” he faltered again, words stopping before going, and Sandra frowned at him. He chuckled, ran his fingers through his graying hair and then pushed his hands in front of himself, laced together where he could stare at his scarred knuckles. “You haven’t had many visions lately, have you?”
    He wasn’t looking at her, so she got away with licking her lips, shifting uneasily, lying. “Guess there hasn’t been much to see.”
    “Good.” Lem frowned some more, fingers twisted into stillness. “You can always talk to me. You know that, don’t you?” He looked at her and Sandra nodded. “And if there are any problems, you tell me and I’ll take care of them.”
    He was still staring, almost not blinking, and Sandra had to think for a moment, because his voice was something hard. Something sure. Her entire body felt frozen, even her lungs, and she had to force them to keep drawing in air.
    She didn’t say, You mean like you did with Mr. Murray .
    “Yeah,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie, because she would tell him, except there was nothing to say. She didn’t see. She wouldn’t see, and Lem would never have to get blood on his hands again.
    “Good,” he said again. “That’s good.” Then, he said, “I’m glad the boys have you,” and something swooped in her stomach. Something that could’ve been a vision, if she’d let it. The sensation left her tongue feeling thick, her mouth sweet and throat dry. Scared.
    “They have you,” she said.
    “They won’t always.”
    Lem’s face was serious, like stone, and Sandra got up off the bed and patted Lem on the shoulder, because he was scaring her in a completely new way. “Yes, they will,” she said.
    He grinned, sad and very tired, and pulled her into a hug instead.
    “I still trust you,” she said. Because everyone should be told that once in a while, and because his boys didn’t. He didn’t say thank you. But she hadn’t expected that, either. He didn’t say anything else at all, not for a long time, and Sandra was surprised to learn Lem got words stuck in his throat just like she did.
    “You protect them,” he said before he left, and it was the finality that scared her the most.
    ~
    Three weeks later, she almost kissed Jack.
    He stood over the couch, glaring at her.
    Sandra kept stealing his t-shirts. She couldn’t help it, though. They were big and comfortable. She hadn’t slept well in weeks. She was tired and cold and she would’ve stolen Daniel’s canvas jacket, but he usually wore it and the loss of a jacket was a little bit more noticeable than the loss of a shirt.
    “Would you stop it?” he said. “I’m running out of them.”
    “Do your laundry then,” she said and he huffed, threw himself over the side and made the whole couch squeak and wobble. Her legs got trapped behind him and he complained until she pulled them free, accidentally kicking him in the side. They were both left staring at the wall where the television set should’ve been.
    His eyes kept flickering over her stomach, where her shirt had ridden high. Sandra didn’t notice right away, not until his hands tightened over her ankles. His jaw was tight, forehead creased and throat clicking with a swallow. His grip made her shiver.
    And then she sat up and Jack’s fingers were on her skin, on her stomach and the faint scars hiding there, and she was there , leaning into him. He didn’t move when she leaned in. It took her a