He reached past her and eased the kettle off the heat. "Smells good."
Savannah squeezed back tears. What was wrong with her? Why was she so unlovable? Other children were hugged and kissed and loved by their parents. She'd seen that kind of affection at her friend Lila's house, and every time she saw Mr. Hannah pat Lila's shoulder or kiss the
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top of his daughter's head, Savannah felt a dull, throbbing ache in her midsection.
It had to be something wrong with her; she'd faced that truth a long time ago. Something dark and ugly that made her parents turn away.
She bent tiredly and opened the oven door, carefully extracting the golden loaf of bread. Using her apron to shield her hands, she moved the loaf to a riddle board and started to slice it thickly.
Katie went to the table and sat down. Her little elbows thumped on the scarred wooden surface. The steady thump-thump-thump of her toes hitting the chair's solid legs was a welcome end to the silence. "What's for dinner, Vannah?"
Savannah slopped a ladleful of stew into a bowl, balanced a plateful of bread on top, and headed for the table. "Rabbit stew, cottage bread, and some of those pickled cucumbers Mrs. Hannah gave us."
Katie wrinkled her nose. "Rabbit stew ... again?"
Savannah set the food on the table, and gently cuffed her baby sister on the head. "Watch it, you," she said, smiling as she buttered her sister's bread. "Or you'll get it for breakfast, too."
Daddy dished himself a heaping bowl of stew and laid two slices of bread on the bowl's rim. Balancing it carefully, he mumbled, "Thanks," to Savannah and headed to the back porch to eat in solitude.
Savannah headed back to the stove and got herself a small bowl of stew. Then she went over to her usual dinner spot. Leaning against the dry sink, fe
eling the towel rack jabbing against her lower back, she ate her dinner.
No one spoke, and the entire meal was over in less than ten minutes. After Katie left, Savannah carried both of their bowls to the dry sink and set them on the wooden
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drainboard. Filling the metal washbasin with the hot water from the kettle, she set about washing the evening dishes.
The kitchen door squeaked open, then banged shut. Footsteps thudded toward her. The floor boards shuddered with each step he took.
"Savannah?"
She stared intently at the murky gray water. Don't care. Don't care. "Yeah, Daddy?"
He came up beside her and stopped. "I'll take a bowl to your mama."
"Okay."
She waited for him to move away. He didn't. He stood there for a moment longer, and Savannah had the ridiculous thought that he wanted to say something to her.
She waited.
"I'll get it, don't you bother."
Savannah sighed. "Sure, Daddy."
Chapter Five
Jack raised a fist to the rough-planked door and knocked.
"Come on in."
Come on in? Tension crept through Jack's flesh and tightened his spine. Something wasn't right; Amarylis had never sounded so friendly or casual. Certainly not to someone wanting to enter her sanctuary. Certainly not to him.
He balanced the tray of food in one hand and turned the knob. The brass felt cool in his fingers as he pushed the door open and entered his wife's bedroom.