Cathryn. Shannon Waverly

games?”

      “Of course. In fact, I was thinking we could do something special this Saturday after the game. All…four of us. Maybe you could even sleep at the farm that night.” If he expected to see smiles or eager faces, he was sadly mistaken.

      “Why are you gonna stay at the farm?” Beth asked, still lagging in understanding.

      “They had a fight, stupid,” Justin snapped.

      “Take it easy, Justin.” Dylan patted his son’s arm.

      “But you are coming back, right?” Cory needed to know.

      Dylan hesitated too long.

      “You’re not getting divorced, are you?”

      Dylan’s swallow was so dry his throat made a scratching noise. “No one’s talking about divorce here.”

      Cory’s expression crumbled as if Dylan had said just the opposite. “But who’ll take care of us?”

      Shivering with her own insecurities, Cathryn answered, “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere, love.”

      “But—” Lack of confidence filled Cory’s eyes.

      “Hey!” Dylan interrupted sternly. “No one’s abandoning you. I’m still going to take care of you. Don’t you dare start thinking I won’t.”

      His certitude seemed to assure the children somewhat, the youngest two at least. Cathryn could see that Justin’s thoughts were leaping ahead.

      “What’ll we tell our friends?” he inquired, pulling repeatedly on the short blond hair over his right ear.

      “You don’t have to tell them anything,” Dylan replied, growing irritated. “It’s nobody’s business.”

      “But they’re gonna know.” Tears glistened in Justin’s dark blue eyes. “They’re gonna ask about it.”

      “So?”

      Cathryn shot her husband a quelling glance before saying, “You can tell them your parents are separated. Use the word separated. And if they want to know more, just tell them the truth, you don’t know the details and, therefore, can’t talk about them.”

      Justin sighed and fell into a sullen funk. “Easy for you to say.”

      “Does anyone want any more milk?” Cathryn asked, noticing half-full glasses all around the table. The children mumbled no and shook their lowered heads.

      She gazed at Dylan, trying to delve his thoughts. Did he have anything to add? Any way to make this better? Apparently not. His eyes were downcast, too.

      Justin got up and carried his glass to the sink. Cory and Beth followed his example, their bottom lips jutting and quivering. “Maybe I’ll just go upstairs now and do my homework,” he said. Seeing him hoist his backpack, the younger kids did the same.

      “Do you have any other questions?” Cathryn asked. “Any concerns?”

      “No,” Justin answered and was followed by two echoes.

      “Well, okay. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.” With a knot in her chest that wouldn’t loosen, Cathryn watched her children file out of the kitchen and up to their rooms where, she was sure, no homework would get done.

      “Something tells me that didn’t go very well,” Dylan said, placing his coffee mug on the counter.

      Cathryn fumed as she wiped cookie crumbs from the table. “You thought it would?”

      “I don’t know what I expected.”

      She pitched the dishcloth into the sink. “Then maybe you should’ve arrived earlier.”

      He nodded, brow pinched, and turned to face the hutch. “Sorry. I…have no excuse.”

      Cathryn leaned her hip against the counter, crossed her arms, listened to her speeding heartbeat. “Are you really going to stay at the farm?”

      “Yes. I think that’d be best.”

      “Did you stay there last night?” When he hesitated, she explained, “I simply want to know if you told your parents, if they know about us, in case I run into them.”