“I have some troublesome news.”
“I sensed as much. Do you intend to enlighten me?”
Jonas leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, as he raked his fingers through his hair.
His father silently waited in the adjacent chair. “Is it Abilene?”
“Abilene’s recovery is on course, though she’s troubled, as am I.” He met his father’s vibrant stare. “It’s Adam. He’s been called.”
Always in control of his emotions, Ezekiel hid his surprise well. “Is the boy sure?”
“Yes. He’s without appetite, struggling with daylight, his equilibrium is off, and he tells me he’s had several dreams.”
“Did he see her in the dreams?”
“He says no. Only a glimpse of her skin, a flash of her hair, a fleeting tease of flesh, and the sound of her laugh.”
“That sounds accurate. I remember when I was called to your mother, my first dream showed only a brown frock. You can imagine how common brown frocks were in those days. However, the scent of her skin told her apart from all the rest. I memorized that scent, clung to it. As time passes, Adam will gain more clues through the dreams.”
“How long do you suspect he has?”
Drawing back his spine until it pressed firmly into the chair, he folded his hands. “Each immortal’s tolerance is different. Let us hope the calling’s still in the early stages.”
“He’s been keeping this from us for some time, at least a fortnight.”
Frustration seeped into Jonas’s tone. His children had always been honest with him, especially Adam. Why he would hide something as—
“Don’t let your frustrations blind you to what needs to be done, Jonas. He’s confessed and now we must move. The little time we have left cannot be wasted on regret.”
But if too much time passed, even the most level-tempered immortal could grow feral or feeish. And once that happened an animalistic need for their mate took over their senses, and removed layers of acquired humanity until nothing civilized remained, only a rabid beast needing to be put down. He could not lose his son the way he lost his uncle.
“Adam’s always been... He has special gifts.”
“An empath.”
“I suspect his worry for Abilene has cost him. This delay... I fear there’s a shroud of darkness closing over our home and I don’t know what it is or how to stop it.”
“You’re grieving, my son.” Ezekiel closed a hand over Jonas’s and hesitated. “Jonas, I respect Family Law, but if you need to speak to me about your marriage, I will listen.”
The rules by which a husband chose to govern the home and assign the marital duties fell under Family Law—a gray area established by each couple and predominantly sanctioned by the males of the Order who were free to govern their homes and wives as they deemed fit. As long as no higher laws were broken, a husband had absolute freedom to prescribe obedience within the home by any means.
“Abilene’s coping.” As was he. “Each miscarriage is both easier and harder than the last. It’s a torturous paradox. I’m unsure if we should continue to try.”
Ezekiel chuckled. “I’d like to see you try not to. Eternity is long, my son. You have centuries ahead of you. Perhaps you need to trust that God will bestow a child to your home when the time is right. It seems wasteful to worry over things we cannot control.”
The loss, after so many other losses, had been great, but their love offered resilience. They would recover, and try again.
Jonas nodded, appreciating his father’s attempt to understand his grief, but regretting the sense of another man judging his marriage. “Things will improve with time.”
“I apologize if I’ve overstepped. But your wife’s grief mustn’t interfere with Adam’s responsibilities. Any delay risks his safety. She does not want to lose him as well.”
“She understands he must leave immediately.” Jonas took a shuddering breath.
"Might I say one more thing, Jonas?"
Meeting his father’s eyes, he nodded.
“Perhaps the pain you feel now will save you from far greater pain later. It will not be easy to abandon a woman you love and a house full of babes should your true mate call. Perhaps God is merciful and has a larger plan for you.”
“Abilene’s my true mate.”
Ezekiel held his challenging stare, calling him a liar without uttering a word. They both knew the truth. Abilene chose him. And he chose her. God was not a part of their decision, but Jonas would fight like the devil to stay, should God ever call her to leave.
A seething heat burned through him at the thought of any other male touching his wife. A calling could eviscerate their happiness. There would be no choice, should either of them ever get called. No man, immortal or otherwise, could outmaneuver fate.
“My intention is not to taunt you, Jonas. You’re my child and I worry for you the same as you worry for yours.”