“Clay. He told me months ago that you admired Miss Chen. My son is my eyes and ears, Hitch. I might not get out much, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know things.” She added meaningfully, “And your mother visits, too.”
“Oh, Lord. Don’t tell me that she—”
“Calm yourself. She’s never breathed a word. I don’t think she’s aware, but I’m not sure she’d mention it to me if she was. I can’t begin to fathom how she would take the news.”
“Neither can I,” he said, looking down at the floor.
Lily realized she had pricked his happy bubble and was sorry for that. “So? Have you spoken to her?”
Hitch’s expression brightened marginally. “Today. This morning actually. She was carrying an armload of bread from Maxwell’s and I had two arms I wasn’t using, so I offered my assistance.”
“That was gallant of you.”
“Good to know. I was only trying not to be clumsy.”
“And you spoke to her.”
He nodded. “And she spoke to me. That was the best. She’s quiet, you know. Like you, I think. Keeps to herself.”
“Also like me,” said Lily.
“I suppose that’s true. Hadn’t thought of it.”
Lily smiled graciously and pretended to believe him. She pointed to the stairs. “I think you should probably go up now. If Clay is sulking in a corner, send him down.”
“Will do.” He hefted the cases and started up. He was on the third step when he paused and looked back at Lily in the rocker. “It was real nice talking with you, Mrs. Shepard.” Pleased that he’d got it right this time, he went on his way.
Lily cocked an ear toward the kitchen when she heard the back door open. The squeaky hinge announced that Hannah and Ham had returned from outdoor play in the snow. She heard them knock snow off their shoes and then begin arguing over who made the better snow angel. Snow angels. That meant the pair of them were covered in a dusting of snow. Ham would have clumps in his hair because it was likely he left his hat in a drift.
“Hang up your coats and scarves,” she called to them. There was a brief pause while they did as instructed and then they were jostling for position in the hallway to see who could get to the parlor first. “Did you have a good time?”
Ham was more enthusiastic in his response than Hannah. Now that she had her mother as an audience, she pretended she only suffered her brother’s presence. It always made Lily smile to see how her daughter played a scene as if she were onstage.
“Warm yourselves at the stove,” she said. “Deputy Springer is here. He came back with your brother and Mr. Shepard.”
Ham forgot all about warming up. He bolted for the stairs and took them as if he were being chased.
Lizzie abandoned her cross-legged position on the floor in favor of the sofa while Hannah stood at the stove. When her sister joined her, Lizzie snuggled. “You’re toasty,” she said. “Read to me.”
Hannah reached for the book on the side table, opened it, and began to tell Lizzie a story that had nothing to do with the words on the page.
Smiling to herself, Lily returned to her mending.
It was this tranquil tableau that halted Roen before he reached the bottom of the stairs. He took it all in—Lizziecurled against her sister’s side, Hannah quietly reading aloud, and Lily in the rocker, head bent, the thimble on her middle finger flashing as she deftly plied her needle. This was not a scene familiar to him growing up, and the contrast to his own noisy, untidy family struck him anew. Moments like he was observing now simply didn’t occur, and while he’d gotten accustomed to the creative chaos around him, he had harbored a longing for quiet that he had never expressed. This peace was a gift, and he was reluctant to disturb it.
Ham, though, had no such qualms. Roen heard the boy thundering behind him. He put his back against the wall to make room for Ham’s speedy descent and then made the spur-of-the-moment decision to corral him. That decision almost cost him his balance as Ham ran full tilt into the arm he extended. They teetered on the precipice for several long seconds before Roen recovered, threw Ham over his shoulder, and took the last few steps to the bottom with something approaching dignity.
The reason for Ham’s flight became apparent when Clay bounded down the stairs after him. Roen set Ham down and the boy ran for his mother. What sanctuary he expected to find there, Roen didn’t know. Lily was already on her feet, and Roen suspected she had been there since he tossed Ham over his shoulder, but now she ignored him and had Ham in her sights instead.
“What did you do?” She put out a hand to stop him before he bowled her over. When Ham merely shook his head, she used her thimble finger to point him to one of the spindle-legged chairs. “Sit.”
Clay slowed his steps as he reached Roen and ended the chase on the threshold of the parlor.
“What did he do?” Lily asked her older son.
Clay’s answer was to look over his shoulder at Roen. His accusing glance was still there when he looked back at this mother.
Lily’s eyes lifted to where Hitch was standing on the stairs. “Do you know what happened?”
