He shook his head. “I want to keep you separate from all of that. It doesn’t belong in our life. The life we have now. It doesn’t belong.” He picked up his fork again.

She was quiet a moment, then said, “I don’t think that’s fair. Roy was in the war with you, and, according to you, he belongs in our life.”

He ignored her. “Did you go over to that house today?”

“Yes.”

“You know, Doll, you’re letting your obligations here slide. I didn’t want to say anything this morning, but I didn’t have a single clean, ironed shirt in my closet. I had to make do with the one I wore yesterday. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh! I—I did them, Byron. I must have forgotten to bring them up from the basement.” She remembered now, she’d been in such a hurry to get supper underway on Tuesday night that she had left all Byron’s ironed shirts hanging downstairs. She felt guilty, though at the same time it burned her that he felt entitled to take such a disapproving tone.

“You need to cut back on your time there, Doll. Tell them you just can’t give them that many hours.”

“What?” It hadn’t occurred to her that he might give her such orders. And she had vowed to obey him!

“You heard me, Doll.”

She leaned back in her chair. She wanted to scream at him. No wonder there was such distance between them, if this was his attitude—refusing to tell her anything, scolding her as though she were a child. “Well, what about you?” she said. “You told me back in June that you would paint the bathroom, and I’m still waiting. And that wallpaper is still hideous, by the way!”

“I know, Doll. But you know how busy I’ve been at work.”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy, too.”

He raised one eyebrow, and looked at her.

She couldn’t meet his gaze for long. She knew that her own house was supposed to be her primary concern. “I’m sorry about your shirts,” she snapped, finally, then pushed her chair back from the table and got to her feet, rushing past him to head for the basement.

“Stay and have supper with me, Doll,” he called after her, but she was already gone.

That night she dreamed of golden forks trailing through golden maple syrup on gold-edged plates, of standing at the upstairs bedroom door watching JJ as he leaned back on a heap of pillows and looked out with sad eyes at the Bear Trap River passing him by. In the dream, she went to him and kissed him softly, told him, “You’re home now.” He didn’t seem to hear her, and just kept looking out at the river.