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"Amen," she said softly, and the prayer ended. Only this time, they kept holding hands. Everyone looked up. Gazes slid from face to face around the table, and for once, there was no looking away, no awkwardness.
It was Lissa who withdrew her hands first. "So, who wants some of this delicious supper?" she said, reaching for the platter.
"Wait!" Jack said without thinking.
They all glanced up at him, and Jack immediately felt like an idiot. He couldn't imagine what had prompted him to speak. "I ... uh ... I mean I'm the father. I'll carve the meat."
He took the carving knife from her and stood up. Towering over the small table, he carefully began slicing the roast.
Lissa and the girls lapsed into quiet conversation. The ordinary sounds of clanking forks and cutting knives peppered suppertime air.
Jack paused, the knife poised at the roast's blackened hump, and glanced around. Lissa was at the foot of the table, cutting her potatoes and talking animatedly about the troubles she'd had in the garden. Katie sat hunched over her plate, her elbows resting on the table as she listened with rapt attention to her mother's story. Savannah was laughing.
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Jack felt a surge of emotion so raw and powerful, he went weak. He swayed unsteadily. His hand crashed onto the table and held him upright.
Glasses clinked against crockery plates at the sudden movement. Everyone looked up. Three pairs of concerned eyes landed on his face. No one said a word. "Sorry," he mumbled.
The girls turned their attention back to their plates, but Lissa didn't look away. A slow smile curved her lips. She stared at him, and crazily, he felt as if she were seeing inside his soul, seeing that black, twisted place, and finding it not so very dark after all. "It's nice, isn't it?" she said quietly. He knew exactly what she was talking about. Glancing at his daughters, then at his wife, he smiled. "Yeah, it is."
After the supper was finished and the dishes washed and put away, Savannah and Katie hurried off to bed. Jack and Tess were left standing in the kitchen. The air thickened with anticipation. Both of them wanted desperately to reach out, but neither one knew how.
"I ... I guess I'd better put Caleb to bed," she said lamely.
He nodded stiffly. "Yeah. I guess so."
They stood there, staring at each other. Waiting. Hoping.
Finally he said, "Maybe ..."
Tess's heart tripped. "Maybe what?"
He yanked on his collar as if it were suddenly too tight. "Maybe we could have a cup of coffee together after you're done."
Warmth spread through Tess. She grinned. "I'd like that."
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"You would?"
"A lot."
A hesitant smile tugged at his mouth. "All right. I'll make the coffee."
Smiling, she picked up Caleb and held him to her breast. It was all she could do to keep from skipping out of the room.
Tess fed Caleb in record time, then hurried from her room. Jack was hunched over the hearth, starting a fire. The first tentative red-gold flames licked at the log. Behind him, two cups sat on the rough-hewn table. Aromatic steam wafted through the darkness in swirling streams of gray.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She twisted her fingers nervously together. "Hi, Jack."
He dropped the log he was holding. It hit the grate with a thunk. "Hi, Lissa," he said without turning around.
The flames took hold, zipped along the mossy log and burst into a crackling, popping fire.
Tess reached for her coffee and took it in both hands, curling her fingers around the warm cup. The brew's comforting, familiar smell wafted across her nostrils.
She sat down on the couch. Waited.
