“Where’s his mother?” she asked, not unkindly.
Tom’s jaw tightened, just barely. “Buried last spring.”
The answer landed between them like a shared understanding.
Bea straightened slowly. “That’s a hard road.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He swallowed, eyes lowering to the cup. “Harder when you’re the only one left to hold the reins.”
Something in her chest shifted, uncomfortable.
They sat in the quiet like two people who knew too much about losing.
After a while, Sam woke fully and blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling. He looked at Bea, unsure.
“It’s all right,” Tom murmured. “We’re safe.”
Safe.
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