“They are my wife’s papers.”
“And she hid them in the room intended for me.”
His expression turned incredulous.
“You think that makes them yours?”
“No.”
“I think it means she chose the timing.”
Nathan stepped closer.
“Clara.”
She refused to move.
“You can be angry.”
“I am.”
“You can resent me.”
“I do.”
“Good.”
“But if I show you tonight, you’ll ride to Vale’s place.”
“I will not.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Nathan was silent.
Clara nodded.
“Exactly.”
His hands curled at his sides.
For a moment she wondered if she had pushed too far.
Then Nathan inhaled slowly.
Exhaled.
Once.
Again.
He turned.
Walked to the stairs.
At the first step, he stopped.
“Morning.”
“Yes.”
“You show me everything.”
“Yes.”
He looked back.
“And you do not leave this house before then.”
Clara frowned.
“That sounded very much like an order.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“Please do not leave before then.”
“Better.”
He stared at her.
For one extraordinary second, the exhausted widower almost laughed.
Then he went downstairs.
Clara returned to bed.
Still unable to sleep.
But something had changed.
She was no longer alone with Mara’s secret.
Not entirely.
Morning came gray and cold.
Clara woke to the smell of burned coffee.
She took it as proof that Nathan had survived the night.
Downstairs, Samuel sat at the table reading from an old geography book while Lucy attempted to braid Rose’s hair.
The braid had become an architectural disaster.
Ben fed bits of biscuit to a dog beneath the table.
Ethan was absent.
Nathan stood at the stove.
Clara took one look at the skillet.
“What did the eggs do to deserve that?”
Nathan glanced down.
“They’re cooked.”
“They’re evidence.”
Samuel covered his mouth.
Nathan pointed the spatula at Clara.
“You volunteered to make coffee.”
“I said I intended to.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Please.”
Clara moved toward the stove.
Nathan surrendered his position with suspicious eagerness.
Normal conversation.
Domestic irritation.
All of it sat strangely beside the hidden evidence upstairs.
Clara prepared breakfast.
Nathan ate little.
Neither mentioned the papers until Ethan entered through the back door.
His face was red from cold.
Nathan frowned.
“Where were you?”
“Barn.”
“At sunrise?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Nathan looked at him carefully.
Ethan avoided his father’s gaze.
Clara knew instantly.
The boy knew they had spoken.
Perhaps he had heard.