said, rolling his eyes. “I’m fifteen minutes away.”
That happened Tuesday.
Now Thursday had arrived. My son stood trembling in my kitchen, the door locked behind him, unable to meet my gaze.
Part Three: The Wrong Question
“Whatever happened, honey,” I said, “you can tell me. We’ll figure it out together.”
“You can’t promise that!” he burst out.
I gazed at him.
I had never heard that tone from him. Not even during adolescence. Luke was always the relaxed, steady one. He comforted other children when they were distressed. ChildSafety
