My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Father pulled himself away from Cordelia and came to the table. Simon pushed back his chair and rose, ready to allow our father to be at the head of the table as was his right. His face lined with exhaustion and concern, Father dropped into the chair.

Anna refused to look at anyone, even Remy. She didn't pause to eat anything. Up the ladder she went, and I suspected that she would not come back down.

In a sudden burst of activity, Cordelia hurried to the table and collected the cold dishes of food. She carried them to the stove and began to dump the food into various pans, presumably to warm everything up. Ducking her head with a suddenly guilty expression, Susan slipped from her chair and hurried around the table. Her mother must have scolded her for not jumping to help right away. Poor girl.

Knowing I would only get in the way, I decided to remain where I was. I focused on Father and studied his expression. I'd thought him changed when I first arrived in Montana. Now, with the dark shadows under his eyes, he appeared to have aged ten more years in the span of a day.

Leaning forward, I disentangled my fingers from Remy's and patted the oak wood to get my father's attention. "What happened?" I signed and mouthed.

My father's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. He shook his head. Did he mean to indicate that nothing had happened, or that he didn't want to explain whatever had happened?

Father didn't say anything else, though I kept my eyes on him so that I wouldn't miss a single word. Simon sat down in a vacant seat, the younger two having abandoned the table for their toys in the other room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother ask, "Did...posse return?"
Again, Father shook his head. Fear made my heart skip a beat. Did that mean the posse was still searching? Had they run into trouble? What if they'd been led into an ambush? That was something that happened, right?
Remy's hand closed around mine again. His thumb rubbed the back of my hand, distracting me from the questions in my mind. Though I knew I might miss something important, I dragged my gaze to him. He wasn't even looking at me. Did he realize what he was doing?

Cordelia came over, a plate of steaming food in her hand. I breathed in the delectable scent of fried ham and potatoes. For a brief moment, my appetite returned, but when I glanced at my plate, my stomach turned.

Susan returned only to start clearing the table. Father didn't say anything as he ate his supper. Cordelia stood behind him, her hand resting on the back of his chair. I'd never seen her appear so anxious before. As Father continued silent, I wondered why the woman did not go to her daughter.

Of course, it was not the first time I'd seen a lack of affection from her. Did she know how to show love? Was she capable of the feeling? Or had she been so hurt by the world, by the war, that she refused to allow such vulnerability, even where her own children were concerned?

Astounded by the idea, I stared at my stepmother. Was that the case? Why hadn't I thought of that before?

There was a gentle tug on my hand. Remy gave me a warning look. Right. Staring was rude and Cordelia would only create a scene if she saw me.

Breathing out, I determined to be kinder to Cordelia no matter what she did to me. It would make life easier for Father, even if she did not accept the olive branch of peace.

Fatigue washed over me as I sat back. I didn't want to leave the table if there was chance Father would say something, anything that would help me work out what had happened. There was also the fact that Anna was already in the attic. I had no doubt she knew I had told about her being in a man's arms.

I was not about to allow an opportunity where she could vent her fury on me.

So, I remained in my seat and watched my family. Simon drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes flicking toward the door. I could guess at his uncertainty. How safe would it be for him to ride to wherever it was he'd been living in the past few weeks?