Page 18 of Tracking Safety

But the kids usually ate his meals without complaint, and tonight that was all he could ask for.

He dished out the food at the stove and carried the plates to the table, setting a cannister of parmesan cheese in the middle where everyone could reach it. If he’d had more energy, he would have made a salad. But tonight he hadn’t been up for it.

Then he sat at the table, ready to pretend like everything was normal. Like he hadn’t just seen Jenna.

Acting had always been his youngest sister’s talent—not his.

He glanced at his youngest. “Jonah, sit down please.”

Jonah, who’d been standing on the bottom rung of his chair like it was a stepladder, dropped into his seat with a thump. “I’m sitting.”

“You weren’t.”

“I am now.”

Luke gave him a look. Then they all joined hands, and Luke prayed over the food.

After he said “amen,” they all dug in.

Within mere seconds, Cora was twirling spaghetti around her fork with more ambition than technique. A streak of sauce almost immediately appeared on her chin. Luke handed her a napkin.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but the ordinary noise of dinner—forks against plates, Jonah asking for more bread, Liam eating with focused quiet.

His thoughts again wandered to Jenna. He thought about how much his children’s lives would change if they knew their mom was back in town.

He thought about the trauma they’d already been through. He didn’t want to put them through that again.

He wouldn’t do that.

But there could also be trauma if he purposefully kept them away from their mom.

What was the right thing to do?

“I meant to tell you—Sadie’s mom braided her hair last week,” Cora announced halfway through the meal. “It went all the way down her back. It was so pretty.”

“That sounds nice.” Cora had always liked pretty things.

“A French braid. That’s what Sadie called it.” She demonstrated with her fingers, her fork still in hand. “I don’t know how to do that kind.”

“Neither do I, Bug.” He’d mastered a simple braid, but that was about it.

“I know.” She twirled another forkful of spaghetti, studying it. “Daddy, do you think Mommy knows how to do French braids?”

The table went quiet. His kids had talked about their mother a lot for the first year. But over time, mentions of her had faded.

“I’m not sure.” Luke chose his words carefully.

“I think she probably does.” Cora spoke with the easy confidence of a six-year-old who didn’t know any better. “I think she probably knows lots of things about hair. I think about that sometimes, about how things would be different if she was here.”

Jonah looked up from his plate, his mouth ringed with sauce. “I don’t have a mom.”

“You do have a mom,” Luke corrected. “Everyone has a mom.”

Jonah’s brow furrowed. “Then where is she?”

Luke set down his fork. He wasn’t ready to have this talk. Not now. Not after all of today’s events.

“That’s a conversation for another time, Bud.” Luke just couldn’t handle this talk right now. He needed to sort some things out first.