“You are angry.”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
He looked up.
“Never at you.”
“You were angry when I asked you not to speak.”
“I was angry because you had to ask.”
Margaret’s fingers rested on his shoulder.
“I have spent too long trying to keep peace by swallowing everything.”
Thomas lowered his eyes to her hand.
“I should have noticed.”
“You noticed. You just believed me when I said it was nothing.”
He accepted that without defending himself.
Across the room, Daniel sat alone near the window. His wedding suit was soaked at the cuffs. He had removed his tie and folded it beside him, but he had not changed.
Margaret looked over.
“Come here.”
Daniel rose and sat on the rug beside his father.
For several seconds, he stared at the fire.
“I knew she could be sharp,” he said. “I thought she was only stressed. I kept telling myself the comments would stop after the wedding.”
Thomas placed the cloth aside.
“What comments?”
Daniel rubbed his palms together. “She said you were lucky I had chosen her. She said Mum had become dependent on me. She said the house made you both feel important.”
Margaret’s face tightened, but she did not interrupt.
“She told me I needed to separate from you,” Daniel continued. “Not completely. Just enough that I would stop asking your advice. She said if I wanted to be a husband, I had to stop being a son.”
Thomas felt the words settle into the room.
Daniel’s eyes reddened. “I thought I was protecting the marriage by keeping those things from you.”
Margaret reached for him.
He leaned into her, folding down until his forehead rested against her shoulder. She held him with one arm, still wearing the bruise on her wrist.
“You do not have to earn your place between us,” she said.
“I know.”
