Page 87 of Weight of Guilt

He kept digging.

Her heart lodged into her throat. What was going on right now?

“Don’t touch him.” Luke crouched on the other side. “Not yet.”

“But he’s bleeding through his stitches.”

“I know.”

Behind her, the screen door banged.

Wren looked back and saw her mother hurrying across the grass. Despite Wren’s attempts to protect her, the commotion had woken her anyway.

Nora and Marlowe were three steps behind her.

“Mom—” Wren turned toward her.

Mom rushed past Wren as if she weren’t there and dropped down in the dirt beside Christian.

“Christian . . .” she murmured. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. Mama is here.”

Christian stopped. Froze. His gaze focused and unfocused.

He drew in a few ragged breaths.

Then he sat back on his heels, turned toward her, and blinked. “Mom?”

“I’m right here, honey.”

He looked at his hands, turning them over and studying them. “I don’t—why am I outside?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Luke said.

“I was in bed.” He looked at Mom as if she were the only one out here. “I was in bed. I don’t know how I got out here.”

Wren watched the exchange, unable to move.

Then Christian said, “Did I hurt somebody?”

Her mother made a sound and pulled him into her arms. “No, honey. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

Luke rose and looked at her mom. “Why don’t you get him inside and get that hand seen to?”

“We can do that,” Nora said.

But Marlowe continued to stare at the ground where Christian had been digging.

“Marlowe.” Nora put a hand on her youngest sister’s arm. “Come on. Inside.”

“That’s where the treaty box is,” Marlowe muttered.

Everyone turned to look at her.

What was she talking about?

Chapter

Forty-Four