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regretting that he
and Emily hadn't continued to bring Nathan to Dr. Morrissey. Obviously, the
child had deep-rooted anxieties as a result of the divorce. Guilt reared its
ugly head, but Thomas pushed it away. Nathan was better off not listening to
his parents fight all the time.
    But sometimes the guilt overcame reason. It made him feel a
little sick to even consider that he might have caused his own child such pain
and sadness.
    "Nobody's going to hurt Crabapple, buddy," he
promised Nathan, forcing a smile. "Nobody's going to take him away from
you."
    "Crabapple doesn't believe you, Daddy!" Nathan
cried, and now he was growing even more agitated. Though he'd at first seemed
dubious about the imaginary opinions of his imaginary friend, they now seemed
to have him frantic.
    "They're going to take him away and hurt him, maybe
kill him dead, Daddy!" Nathan insisted.
    Then the tears came.
    Thomas pulled over to the side of the road and flipped on
the hazard lights even as he unlatched his seat belt. He reached out, unlatched
Nathan’s seat belt, and pulled his son to him in a crushing embrace, cursing
himself all the while. He knew it wasn't his fault. It was just life. But
knowing and feeling were two different things; and what he felt was just
the tiniest bit of self-loathing.
    "Ssshhh, Nathan, it's okay," he whispered. "Daddy's
here. I won't let anyone hurt you . . . or Crabapple."
    "You can't stop them, Daddy," Nathan whimpered. "Crabapple
says they're going to get him no matter what."
    "Who's they, buddy?" Thomas asked his son,
confounded by the boy's insistence. "Who's going to hurt him?"
    "All of them. Feathertop and Grumbler and Bob Longtooth
and the Wood Nymphs. The Jackal Lantern's going to hurt Crabapple, Daddy. They
all want to hurt him," Nathan roared in tears.
    Thomas could only stare. Strangewood. Nathan was talking
about the characters in Strangewood, the characters Thomas — as TJ
Randall — had written about most of his adult life. The characters who
had provided a comfortable life for the Randall family all along.
    "Why . . . why would they do that?" Thomas asked,
not even wondering at the absurdity of the question.
    "Crabapple says it's cause he's out here with me and
they're . . . they're still in Strangewood," Nathan said, his voice
hitching, but his tears beginning to subside.
    "But, come on, Nathan," Thomas pleaded with his
son, trying to reason with him. "You know that the characters in
Strangewood aren't for real. Daddy made them all up. And even if they were
real, why, Grumbler and Feathertop would never be friends with Bob Longtooth
and the others."
    There , he thought. Five-year-old logic.
    And it seemed to work, for Nathan brightened up a bit right
away.
    "Crabapple's just being a silly," Thomas said. "Why,
who wouldn't want pepperoni pizza?"
    "Silly," Nathan agreed, staring at the empty space
where Crabapple was supposed to be.
    The boy didn't talk to his invisible friend the rest of the
way to the Pizza Palace. By the time they were eating, the conversation had
moved on to sandboxes and swingsets and why chocolate milk was God's greatest
invention.
    But the incident stayed with Thomas. He vowed to himself
that he would speak to Emily about it Sunday when he dropped Nathan off. He
thought a return visit to Dr. Morrissey was in order.
     
     
    By the time he'd finished cooking Nathan pancakes on
Saturday morning, Thomas's mind had returned to the deal with Disney, and the
possibility of developing Strangewood for live-action. The threat to
Crabapple's life and well being had been forgotten.
    Nathan was happy, maple syrup smeared across his chin. The
sun warmed the kitchen, despite the cool breeze that blew in through the window
over the sink. It was a beautiful day. Nathan jabbered on about Jonny Quest,
Scooby Doo, and some of his other favorites on that time machine of animation
called the Cartoon Network. Thomas was as content as he'd been at any time in
recent memory. Happy that he could share