Chapter Sixteen
The Homecoming
Two months had passed since we'd seen Dad. Each day made it harder to believe he'd ever come home. Our lives ran like clockwork: school, home, waiting for Mom to return from teaching with Granny, then the hospital visits. Every weekday night ended at the Red Barn, the same booth, the same tired faces. Then we'd do it all over again.
Mom still had her secret talks in the pantry. Sometimes I'd catch fragments of words that made no sense to me – "Grand Jury," "murder," "second degree," "prior history." I never asked about what I overheard. Granny had made it clear these were "grown-up matters," not for children's ears. But those words stuck with me like burrs, even though I couldn't understand them. I thought about asking Lucy, but something held me back. She'd changed lately, carried her own weight of secrets, just like Mom. At least I had Leah – whatever she knew, I knew too. With no friends at school (not that I wanted any), there was nobody else to ask.
Late one Saturday in spring, Mom announced we could visit Dad in the hospital the next day. The hospital had made a special "concession" just for us.
"What does concession mean?" Leah asked.
"It means they're breaking the rules for us," Lucy said quickly.
"Well, not exactly," Mom smoothed over. "But in this case, yes, they're making an exception. Just this once."
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