She was pouring batter into the waffle iron when her parents came into the kitchen. Both of them were dressed for the day, Ed pushing her mother’s wheelchair to the table before he took his seat. There was no sign of Daniel, but she could hear the shower running in the bathroom. This might be her best chance to talk about letting Daniel study the driver’s handbook.

She filled their mugs with fresh coffee, then cleared her throat and plunged ahead. “I’ve been talking with Daniel. He wants me to help him study for the driver’s written test.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows, a sign of disapproval. “But why go to the trouble? I can’t imagine he’d pass.”

“But he wants to try. Why not let him? I’d be happy to help. If he fails or gives up, he won’t be able to drive, and you two won’t have to be the bad guys.”

“And if he passes the test?” her mother asked.

“It’s not an easy test. If he passes it, I’d say he deserves to go on to the next step.”

Dorcas frowned. She’d always been protective of her vulnerable son. “I don’t know about that. What if he has an accident?”

“Why not let the boy try,” Ed said. “It’s not likely he’ll pass. But if he’s willing to study, he deserves a chance, at least.”

“Well, if you’re sure . . .” Dorcas trailed off as Daniel walked into the kitchen. He was wearing his bathrobe, his dark hair still damp from the shower. He looked at Megan, then from one parent to the other, as if expecting to be scolded.

“Son, Megan tells us you want to study for your driver’s test,” Ed said. “We’ve talked about it. It won’t be easy, but if you want to try, we’re willing to let you.”

The change in Daniel’s expression was like the sun coming out. Grinning, he held up his hand and gave Megan a high five. “I’ll study hard. I’m going to pass the test. You’ll see. This is the best day ever!”

A knot of worry tightened in the pit of Megan’s stomach. She understood how much Daniel wanted to drive. For him, having a car was the key to becoming a man. She would do anything she could to help him. But what if he’d taken on too much? What if her beloved brother was headed for a crushing disappointment?

* * *

When Conner came into the kitchen the next morning, Travis was standing by the open stove, warming his backside. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes rumpled, his jaw shadowed with stubble.

“You look like hell,” Connor said.

“I feel like hell.” Travis had made coffee. Conner poured a fresh mug.

“When did you get in?”