“The circuit court hearing is set for December fourteenth at nine in the morning,” I said.

“We don’t need court clerks and judges involved in Carter family business,” my father said.

His voice had none of its usual hearty boom.

It sounded quiet and gentle, which was far worse.

“Come into the kitchen,” my mother whispered, touching my jacket sleeve with two fingers.

“Let’s sit down and talk like civil people.”

I didn’t pull my arm away, but I walked past her down the dark hallway toward the kitchen.

My mother set her casserole dish on the oak counter while I turned on the tap to fill the tea kettle.