The air shifted, and the people returned to their food. The women relaxed their shoulders and lifted their cups, and the men dug their spoons into their plates. It bent the tension but did not break it.
Neil tore a piece of bread and forced himself to chew. His eyes drifted back to Kristen without his permission. She had the dog under her palm now, and the children leaned against her as if she were a solid wall. She told the boy something he could not hear, and the boy nodded.
Lachlan cleared his throat. “Breathe, Braither.”
“I am,” Neil said.
“Really? Because ye look like ye are about to swallow everyone here one after the other.”
Neil tightened his grip on his bread but did not respond. However, he watched the movement on the right side of the table. Davina spoke to Kristen. Kristen listened and nodded. And for a few heartbeats, the hall felt like a place where mornings happened and nothing else.
Eventually, Kristen rose and spoke to the children, then guided them up the aisle between the benches. Davina followed behind them a step, ready to help if small courage failed. Maggie followed with her head low and her shoulder brushing the boy’s hand.
They stopped in front of Neil. The boy tried to stand straight. The little girl looked at the dog and then at Neil and then at Kristen again.
“Are ye me faither, sir?” the boy asked, his voice soft but clear.
The question struck hard. Neil felt it in the chest, where old blows had never reached. He did not look at Lachlan. He looked at the child.
“Nay,” he replied, keeping his voice softer than he would have thought himself capable of. “But I can be someone who cares for ye.”
The boy’s shoulders drooped a little, then squared again in a display of bravery. “Aye, sir.”
That word felt older than his small bones.
Kristen interjected, her voice warm and sure, “Many folks can care for us as if they were our parents, if nae more. We take the ones who prove it.”
The boy still looked a bit sad.
Neil looked at Kristen, but she did not return his gaze. She looked at the table instead, before her mouth curled into a small smile.
“I can see a red thing on this table.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “An apple,” he said, pleased with himself.
“Aye,” Kristen agreed. “And another.”
The boy frowned in thought, then brightened and tapped a small smear of berry on a wooden bowl. “There.”
“Clever,” Kristen praised. “Yer turn, Anna.”
The girl peered over the rim, her thumb still tucked away. “I see a red thing,” she mumbled into her hand.
“What is it, love?” Kristen asked.
“His face,” the girl whispered, serious as a judge.
A small ripple of laughter ran close. Neil felt heat creep up to his jaw and almost smiled. The dog’s tail made a quiet thump.
The boy found a stitched thread on a sleeve three seats down, and the game went to and fro until the tension in the air eased.
Neil watched everything. The way Kristen monopolized the hall’s attention unsettled him. The defiance that had met him that night turned into gentleness now, and both were sharp with purpose.
His wife had learned to place weight where it mattered, and what made it work was that the clansmen let her. He did not know where to place himself in that pattern. He did not know whether he wanted to.
Lachlan leaned closer. “Ye’re staring, Braither.”
“Eat,” Neil grunted.
