By six, something had changed in the house.
The smell came first.
Smoked ham simmering with beans and onions.
Cornbread baking inside the iron stove.
Apples cooked down with molasses and cinnamon into something too humble to call dessert but sweet enough to make Eli appear in the doorway three separate times.
At the table, the boys sat more quietly than before.
Lena placed a bowl in front of Thomas.
He stared.
“What?”
“Food.”
“I know.”
“Then we are making progress.”
He looked at his father.
Reid had not started eating.
He watched his sons.
Jacob took the first bite.
His eyes widened.
Peter followed.
Then Samuel.
Seven spoons began moving.
Eli finished half his bowl in less than a minute.
“Slow down.”
Lena slid bread toward him.
He took one piece.
Then another.
Thomas tasted his.
The expression on his face changed so slightly anyone else might have missed it.
Lena did not.
“More?” Eli asked.
“You haven’t finished.”
“I’m planning ahead.”
Reid lowered his head.
His shoulders shook once.
Lena realized he was laughing silently.
Thomas noticed.
Something in the boy’s guarded expression softened.
Only for a second.
Dinner ended with no leftovers.
That told Lena more about their winter preparations than any ledger could.
After the boys went upstairs, she washed dishes beside Reid.
He dried.
For several minutes only water and plates broke the silence.
Finally he said, “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“You’ve said that twice.”
“Because it’s true.”
“So is supper.”
He glanced at her.
“You always answer like that?”
“Usually.”
“I may regret tomorrow.”
“You have until the preacher arrives.”
He smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“Lena.”
She stopped washing.
He looked down at the plate in his hands.
“You should know something before tomorrow.”