Jacob made a sound behind Clara. She turned. He was standing with his hands in fists at his sides, and his face had gone a color that was not healthy, and she put her hand on his arm, not to comfort, but to hold him where he was, because the expression on his face was the expression of a boy about to do something that would not help anyone. Stay. She said quietly.
Just the one word. His fists stayed fists, but he stayed. Thomas looked up from the table and found Jacob in the doorway, and his face did something that briefly was not controlled at all. Then he looked at Vance. Get out of my house, he said.
Vance blinked. I understand this is difficult. I understand my legal obligations, Thomas said. I will appear in court on August 14th. I will bring my attorney.
You will leave my property now." Vance gathered his documents with the efficiency of a man who has encountered this particular tone before and knows there is no productive argument with it. He closed his case. He stood. He nodded at Thomas with the stiff professional courtesy of his trade and walked to the door.
He looked at Clara as he passed. She looked back at him with nothing on her face. The screen door closed behind him. The kitchen held the three of them. Thomas, Clara, Jacob in a silence that was not quiet at all.
Jacob was the one who broke it. "They can't do that," he said. His voice cracked and he didn't bother to fix it. "They can't just We don't even know them. We've met them twice.
They came for Christmas 2 years ago and they stayed 4 days and Grandpa Harlow told Luke he was too loud and Grandma Ruth cried the whole time and nobody knew why." "Jacob," Thomas said. "They can't take us," Jacob said. "Papa, they cannot They're not going to," Thomas said. "You don't know that."
"No," Thomas said. "I don't. Not yet." He looked at his son with the directness he always used when he was refusing to lie to him. "But I'm going to fight it with everything I have.
You understand me?" Jacob looked at his father. His jaw was working. "Yes, sir," he said. Thomas stood up.
He came around the table and he put both hands on Jacob's shoulders, the bandaged arm and the good one, and he held his son by the shoulders the way you hold someone when you need them to feel the weight of what you're saying. "I need you to not say a word of this to the little ones," he said. "Not Luke, not Emma, not Noah, not yet. Can you do that? Jacob swallowed.