Hitch put up his hands. “Don’t think I want to be in the middle of their dispute. Is that everything?” he asked Roen.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Then I’ll see myself out.” He nodded to Lily and the girls, shook Roen’s hand, and then made his escape.
“All right,” said Lily when the deputy was gone. “Clay. You sit, too. What’s this about?”
Clay jerked his chin at Roen. “Him.”
Frowning, Lily looked to Roen for some hint that would explain Clay’s answer. His bewilderment matched her own. “Hannah. Lizzie. Upstairs, please.”
Roen almost envied the girls as they fled. Lizzie gave him a particularly pitying look as she hurried past. He watched them until they reached their room and then he left the foyer for the parlor. He did not take a seat. Instead he stood behind the sofa and set his hands on the curved back.
“Hamilton?” Although Lily did not raise her voice, using her son’s full Christian name was enough to prompt a response.
“I only said that we could call Mr. Shepard ‘Da’ like you told us. Clay opened one of Da’s cases, the one with his fancy equipment, and he was showing them off to Deputy Hitch, telling him what they were for and how he was learning all about them. He was saying Mr. Shepard this and Mr. Shepard that and so I told him we was to call him Da. That’s what you said, isn’t it? I wasn’t lying.”
“No,” said Lily. “You weren’t lying.”
“Clay said I was. I said I wasn’t. He said I was so I punched him.” Ham raised his right hand and showed off the fist he had used. “I punched him before I remembered what you said about no hitting, and Clay, well, he musta forgot the same as me because he was goin’ to punch me back if I hadn’t run.” Ham’s fingers uncurled. He lowered his hand to his lap but not before he solemnly crossed his heart. “And that’s what happened.”
Lily listened to this on her feet, but when Ham had finished, she slowly sank back onto the rocker. She said nothing while she took gentle, even breaths until her racing heart quieted. Her boys were watching her closely, but then so was her husband, and while she saw wariness in her sons’ eyes, she saw concern and something else, something she could not quite identify, in Roen’s.
“Clay. What your brother told you is true. You were already gone from the house when Hannah asked me how she shouldaddress Mr. Shepard. Since this was something Roen and I had already discussed, I told her his preference. Ham and Lizzie were in the room so they heard it as well.” She turned to Ham and pointed upstairs. “Make yourself scarce.”
When Ham was gone, Roen stepped out from behind the sofa and sat in the armchair. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms above his knees, and folded his hands. He regarded Clay with respectful frankness and waited for the boy—no, the young man—to return his attention. When he did, Roen was ready for him.
“It’s entirely up to you if you call me Da, Mr. Shepard, or that son of a bitch who married your mother.” He ignored Lily’s sharp intake of air. “I prefer Da, but I will answer to the others.” Roen did not miss the slip of a smile that briefly changed the shape of Clay’s mouth. “I did not anticipate that marrying your mother, indeed, marrying into this family, would be without challenges. Ididthink they would come at me more slowly, and I did not expect that you would be my first hurdle. I’ve always recognized your desire to protect your mother and found it admirable. Again, I was not prepared for you to feel a need to protect her from me.”
Clay shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His dark eyes darted in his mother’s direction but quickly returned to Roen. He thrust his chin forward. “You weren’t there,” he said. “You don’t know.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lily was preparing to intervene. He spoke before she could. “I wasn’t there last night, not at the beginning, but I don’t think that’s what you meant. It’s all the other times you’re talking about.”
Clay shrugged.
“I know that your father hurt your mother, Clay, but you’re right that I don’t know what it must have been like for all of you. I don’t know how often it happened or for how long. I don’t know the extent of your mother’s injuries, and I don’t know if you or your sisters and brother were harmed. You can tell me or not. Your mother can tell me or not. What I wantyouto know is that I won’t raise my hand against any of you. Ever. That’s my solemn promise, but I’ll understand if it takes weeks or months or even years of proving myself before you believe me.”
Clay didn’t respond immediately, and when he finally did, it was only to nod.
Lily said, “We can talk about it, Clay.” She pretended she didn’t see that Roen was now looking in her direction and that one of his eyebrows was lifted in surprise or skepticism. She couldn’t be certain without study. Perhaps it was both. “It will be two years to the day your father died come New Year’s Eve. Not too long ago, Lizzie said we never talk about the fire. She’s right. We don’t talk about it, we don’t talk about your father, we don’t talk about what you saw or heard or thought. That’s my fault, Clay. Maybe we should talk sometimes so what we think we’re tucking deep down doesn’t keep escaping sideways.”
Clay looked down, raised his arms slightly so he could examine himself on both sides. “Nothin’s escaping now, Ma. I had a touch of gas earlier, but I reckon it was the oatmeal that caused that.”
Roen gave a short shout of laughter that had both Clay and Lily staring at him. He cleared his throat, smiled a shade guiltily, and said, “Sorry, Clay.” To Lily, he said, “The literal interpretation was unexpected.”
Lily set her mouth in a disapproving line, but it was all in aid of suppressing her own laughter. When she had herself in hand, she addressed Clay again. “I was speaking of the secrets we keep, Clay. Sometimes keeping things to myself twists my stomach.”
“Nothing twists my stomach.”
“That’s because you have what’s called an iron constitution, but it doesn’t mean that keeping things to yourself doesn’t show in other ways. You’ve been nothing short of hateful to Mr. Shepard today.”
Clay ducked his head and mumbled a reply under his breath.
“How’s that again, Clay? I couldn’t make out what you said.”
He repeated himself, this time looking Roen in the eye. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been purely hateful.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” she asked.
