Page 46 of In Hiding

“Her love for you kept her alive.”

“What kind of a man does that? I thought he loved her.”

“I can’t answer that, Will, except to say people do things that surprise us all.”

“Do you think it’s genetic?”

Jake shook his head. “No, I don’t. Who we are is a combination of the people around us, our life experiences, our beliefs, our faith and yes, to some degree, our DNA, but our actions are our own.”

Studying genetics, William had often wondered how much of his father’s DNA influenced his own choices. “His blood is my blood. What if I’m like him?”

“There’s nature and then there’s nurture. You’ve been loved and influenced by a strong and powerful woman. In my opinion, nurture wins out every time, Will. The very fact you ask the questions means you will never do what he did.”

The words comforted him and brought tears to his eyes. He curled into a ball and hugged his knees, hiding his face to cry. Beside him, Jake rubbed his back and assured him everything would be alright. After what felt like a lifetime, he sat up and smiled at the man his mother had employed. A man he’d come to trust.

“Thank you.”

“Any time, kid.” Jake glanced up at the house and then looked at him with determined, dark eyes. “And I promise you. I will never let anyone hurt her again.”

~

“Come on in, boys.”

Both William and Jake looked up from their respective wood piles as Sarah called down to them. Red faced, they sported a good sweat on their brows. Jake had removed his jacket and stood only in jeans and a shirt, the sleeves folded up to reveal strong, muscular forearms. William, on the other hand, still looked like an Eskimo under his layers of winter clothing.

“We’ll be right up,” Jake smiled.

How they could see what they were doing in the fading light was beyond her, but she suspected there was more talking than chopping going on. The timing between each thwack of their axes had grown longer and longer.

She nodded and pushed away from the railing. “Stew is ready. Don’t let it go cold.”

“We won’t,” William called.

Leaving them to their chores, she turned and shuffled her way inside. Her thigh ached from having spent the last hour tending to the stove and though she could bear weight on it, it refused to flex and bend. Straight-legged walking was exhausting but at least it didn’t need the crutches. Her armpits couldn’t stand a moment more of their torture.

Inside, she turned the burner under the stew pot down to low and checked the loaf of freshly baked bread. Still warm, it sliced like a dream and the aroma tempted her to ignore the pain that would come if she took a bite. She knew better and the deliciousness of warm, buttered bread couldn’t outweigh the stomach cramps she’d suffer later.

While she buttered, Sarah heard the screen door clang and boots stomp on the tiled laundry floor. Muffled laughter made her smile.

“Go wash up,” she instructed, not bothering to look up as she heard their socked feet thump on the wooden floorboards. “But be quick, this stew looks good enough to keep all for myself.”

“As if,” her son chuckled.

While she heard him climb the stairs, Jake appeared at her side. The hair at the edges of his temple was damp. “Can I help?”

She closed one eye at him. “You can wash up.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he turned serious. “Sarah—”

“Go and wash up. We can talk later.”

He shook his head. “Stubborn, you are.”

“Yes, I am.”

Finally, he cracked a smile. “Fine. After dinner, but we have to talk.”

“About William?”

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