Page 70 of Call Off the Dark

Helen inhaled sharply. “Like a fist fight?”

“That’s right. Wade has knocked me out cold at least three or four times.”

“Oh my God! That’s awful.”

“But don’t worry.” Isaac flashed a wicked little grin. “I got a knockout at least five or six times myself.”

Helen swallowed and looked out at the forest. Forced fights, forced whippings. “Maybe it really is best if you leave.”

Isaac sighed. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. All I’m saying is Wade and I had an unusual upbringing. We’re fine though. Maybe neither of us is good at talking things out, but we’re brothers. He’s not going to hurt me.”

Helen’s eyes left the trees and found a resting place within Isaac’s gaze.

“It’ll be okay, Helen,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to take this on by yourself.”

His confidence gave her confidence. After all, Isaac had grown up with Wade. In many ways, he was in a better position to judge her husband than she was.

“When I came here last night, I didn’t plan to stay,” Isaac said. “Wade and I have some unresolved things, and I planned to take care of that in my own way and then leave. But you being here—it made me rethink my plans.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that. The truth was, she didn’t want to ask for clarification, because there was a protection of sorts in not knowing. She could reasonably interpret Isaac’s words to mean that meeting his sister-in-law had given him a renewed longing for family connection. Indeed, that’s probably all he meant, she told herself. And so she didn’t ask him to clarify just in case he was implying something else about her—about them—in case he said something that crossed a line, because then she’d have to ask him to leave right then and there. Which was a preposterous thought anyway. He’d barely been here twenty-four hours, so there was no line to cross, there was no them. Goodness, how starved was she for connection that having dinner company and discussing a little poetry with him had given her such a lift? It was embarrassing to admit, but she wanted it to continue just a bit longer.

“Do you want me to go? Or do you want me to stay?” Isaac asked. “It’s up to you.”

Helen knew what she was going to say, but she wanted to hang on to the feeling of watching him wonder what her answer would be, so she let a long moment pass between them before she finally said, “Stay.”

When the word left her lips, though, she saw it in his eyes: He’d already known.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Isaac followed Helen into the farmhouse. Wade was still seated at the table, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Isaac is going to make us something for dinner,” Helen announced.

“Fine,” Wade said, his eyes never leaving the table.

She felt a sudden bolt of unease. This wasn’t the husband she knew. He was behaving as if someone had opened his veins and poisoned him with apathy.

Isaac was already moving deeper into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, paying no attention to her exchange with Wade, at least not outwardly.

Helen lowered her voice, softened it. “Wade, maybe we could go somewhere and talk?”

“I don’t want to talk.” He stood and wandered into the living room.

From the kitchen, she could see him sink into the couch. She should go to him, but they’d never talked about hard things, so she didn’t know how to start with him now. Still, it was the right thing to do, so she went into the living room.

“Wade? Can I help you take off your boots?”

“No.”

A lone coyote howled in the distance.

“You don’t want to go to the bedroom and talk?” She knew Isaac could probably hear them in here.

Wade didn’t even look at her when he answered, “No, Helen. I said no.”

So she left him there on the couch and went back into the kitchen. Isaac was sorting through various mixing bowls and utensils he’d pulled from her cupboards and drawers.

“Can I help you with anything?” Helen asked.