Page 5 of Veil of Silence

“Got the last one,” he announced with a grin.

“You remembered the crumb topping?” Mom raised her eyebrows.

“Of course. I was given very specific instructions. I never forget very specific instructions.”

Mom smiled.

Nora looked away before either of them caught her watching. Three weeks ago, her parents could barely get through a conversation without something sharp slipping in. Now they were teasing each other over pie like the past ten years hadn’t happened.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Because somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered: If you’re right, you’ll be the one who takes this from her. And if you’re wrong, you’ll have poisoned it anyway.

And her mother’s happiness—fragile, tentative, hard-won—would disappear the moment Nora opened her mouth.

Christian appeared at the bottom of the stairs as Nora called everyone to eat.

Tonight, their father sat at the head of the table, while Mom filled his glass with sweet tea without asking how much ice he wanted.

She didn’t need to. She still remembered.

Dad asked everyone to join hands, then he prayed for the meal.

After he said amen, Nora watched Christian reach for a piece of garlic bread. When he’d first come home, every meal had seemed to require thought. He’d watched where everyone sat. Waited to see what other people reached for. Asked before taking seconds even when the food was directly in front of him.

Tonight, he reached for the bread without looking at anyone.

It seemed normal.

Or closer to it, anyway.

Their father pointed his fork at Marlowe. “That motorcycle gets any louder, they’re going to start issuing tornado warnings when you pull into town.”

“It’s a safety feature.” Marlowe scooped more spaghetti onto her plate. “Deer can’t run into me if they’ve already fled the county.”

Christian laughed. The sound came out before he seemed to expect it, and his mouth snapped shut.

Their mother’s hand paused around her glass of tea.

Every time Christian remembered something, laughed at something, or did anything resembling the little boy they’d lost, everyone’s instinct was to stop and examine it.

That only made him retreat. So they tried not to.

Instead, Marlowe kept talking about her motorcycle. Dad rolled his eyes. Mason tried to feed Bo spaghetti beneath the table until Wren caught him.

“Mason,” Wren warned. “What did I tell you about feeding Bo from the table?”

Mason pulled his hand back. “But he likes spaghetti.”

“You still have to obey your mother,” Dad said.

“To obey is better than sacrifice,” Christian murmured.

Nora sucked in a breath and glanced at him. He hadn’t hesitated or seemed to realize he’d spoken aloud. Since he’d been back, he hadn’t said anything like that before.

“First Samuel.” Dad smiled faintly. “I’m glad somebody remembers their Scripture.”

Christian stared down at his plate. “I guess.”