Page 61 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

“Speaking of bad decisions…”

“If you’re going to bring up college in order to deflect this conversation back to me, you can stop right there. I don’t care. I’m not going. The end. Skip the epilogue and go right to the credits.”

“I like how your decisions are beyond reproach, but mine are fair game.” Augustus took the small white spoon and turned it into an airplane, winding down toward his daughter’s amused mouth. She sputtered the pureed squash back at him, before swallowing some.

“He only wants to blame you. You know that, right? He needs someone to blame, and who better than the infidel husband?”

“If you know him so well, maybe you should’ve mentioned that. We could’ve put him on our Christmas card list much sooner.”

“Don’t be cute. What good can possibly come of someone making you feel worse?”

“We don’t know what he wants, Elizabeth.”

She stabbed at the paper. “He wants to see you. He wants to see Ana. He can’t come here, so he wants it on his territory. None of that feels weird?”

“No, actually.”

“And when he does hurt you? What then?”

Augustus dropped the spoon. Ana squealed and clapped her hands together, which were covered in orange mush. “I’m a grown man, Lizzy. I can make my own decisions. And where this is concerned, I haven’t made one yet.”

“But you will.”

“I will.”

“And soon.”

“That a prediction or a question?”

Elizabeth frowned. “More of an allegation.”

“Whatever I decide, it will come down to what’s in Ana’s best interest.”

“Good.” Elizabeth jumped up, with a crooked smile. “Then we agree.”

“Hey,” Augustus called after her. “When is the painter coming?”

“Which one?”

“What do you mean, which one? Did we have damage to more than just the shutters?”

“Uh, yeah, Aggie. We did, when the neighbor’s thingy smacked into the screened porch.”

“Thingy?”

Elizabeth waved her hands. “I don’t know what it’s called. That farm thingy they were using to redo their backyard.”

“Rototiller?”

“I guess?”

“When were you planning to tell me?”

She shook her head. “As with most things, I did tell you, and as with most things, you either weren’t listening or forgot.”

This was Colleen’s first trip home without Amelia. She’d be back, in a month, with Noah and Amelia… and news. News she could share now, but Noah’s way of caring for her was standing by her side in all things. It was what love meant to the man whose father had abandoned his love, and later, inadvertently, inspired his son to do the same. Colleen’s way of loving him back was to let him do it.

She would’ve rather waited and come back as a family at Christmas, but these early days as magistrate would set the tone for all that followed. If she showed an inclination to let things slide, and only come back when something happened, everything Ophelia rebuilt for them would eventually dwindle to an afterthought.

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