He?d returned Tali and her acquisition, the kitten Soap, to their mother at the house in town, hours before. He had things he should be doing. He should show Juli his ? their ? studio. He should introduce Sianna to his mother and Juliane. He didn?t move. He was standing at one of the large windows in his studio; hands limp at his sides, staring out at nothing at all.
Behind him on the work table were a few scattered letters, all signed with a scrawling hand, ?Meggie?. Beside those was an intricately carved silver locket on a leather cord, a match to the one he wore around his own neck. It lay open, a miniature family portrait on one side, a small lock of hair made up from a few strands from each member of the family on the other.
Each of the Smiths had one, he had made them all just a short time before James ? he didn?t even think ?father? ? had thrown him out. He didn?t know if the others still wore theirs, but Margaret hadn?t been wearing hers. If she had been, it would have been lost. Lost as she was lost, when she was killed, trying to visit him. The thought sat there, in the open now instead of lurking in the back of his consciousness where it had been hiding for the past few days.
Memories flicked through his mind, a high-speed slideshow. Meggie tagging after Juli and him as they ran around the homestead, barely able to keep up with her four-year older siblings on her toddler?s legs. Meggie, slightly older, playing hide and seek with them, then throwing a tantrum when they could always find her first. Older yet, twelve to his sixteen, sitting out on the front porch together in the dark, just the two of them, asking his advice about a boy she liked from the next farm. Looking at him through tear-filled eyes two years later, just months before James disowned him, confessing that the boy from the next farm had tried to do more to her than she was willing for. The shining look in her eyes when he came back from the next farm with his knuckles bloodied and bruised, but her honor avenged.
He had a lot he should be doing. He didn?t move. He stood in the window of his studio apartment, hands hanging limp at his sides, staring at nothing at all.
Behind him on the work table were a few scattered letters, all signed with a scrawling hand, ?Meggie?. Beside those was an intricately carved silver locket on a leather cord, a match to the one he wore around his own neck. It lay open, a miniature family portrait on one side, a small lock of hair made up from a few strands from each member of the family on the other.
Each of the Smiths had one, he had made them all just a short time before James ? he didn?t even think ?father? ? had thrown him out. He didn?t know if the others still wore theirs, but Margaret hadn?t been wearing hers. If she had been, it would have been lost. Lost as she was lost, when she was killed, trying to visit him. The thought sat there, in the open now instead of lurking in the back of his consciousness where it had been hiding for the past few days.
Memories flicked through his mind, a high-speed slideshow. Meggie tagging after Juli and him as they ran around the homestead, barely able to keep up with her four-year older siblings on her toddler?s legs. Meggie, slightly older, playing hide and seek with them, then throwing a tantrum when they could always find her first. Older yet, twelve to his sixteen, sitting out on the front porch together in the dark, just the two of them, asking his advice about a boy she liked from the next farm. Looking at him through tear-filled eyes two years later, just months before James disowned him, confessing that the boy from the next farm had tried to do more to her than she was willing for. The shining look in her eyes when he came back from the next farm with his knuckles bloodied and bruised, but her honor avenged.
He had a lot he should be doing. He didn?t move. He stood in the window of his studio apartment, hands hanging limp at his sides, staring at nothing at all.