I recognized that caution.
Children learn the emotional weather of adults before they learn multiplication.
One Sunday, he showed up during dinner at Mr. Gideon’s house.
Uninvited.
The kids were there.
So was Elowen.
We had just sat down to roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and Mr. Gideon’s overcooked biscuits, which he insisted were “rustic.”
The doorbell rang.
Wren jumped up.
“I’ll get it!”
Elowen caught her wrist.
“Wait.”
That one word told me everything.
Mr. Gideon rose slowly.
“I shall greet the intruder.”
He opened the door.
Sylas stood on the porch with a bouquet of grocery-store flowers and a smile that looked rehearsed.
“Hey,” he said. “Family dinner?”
Elowen stood.
Her face had gone pale.
“How did you know we were here?”
“I’m not stupid,” he said, still smiling.
Mr. Gideon’s expression darkened.
“Debatable.”
Sylas ignored him and looked past the doorway at the kids.
