Upstairs, lying next to her sleeping husband, Hannah recalled bits and pieces of the information Jose had imparted to her on their mad dash from the park to the house, mainly that there had been a dreadful verbal encounter between Max and Zachary. Hannah feared that the effect on Max, at his age, could be disastrous. Thank God, he was breathing easily and steadily. He must have been exhausted. She could wring Zachary’s neck for doing this to his father. Hannah lay beside Max, her hip pressed to his, her legs covering his, and waited.

Earlier that day, Amelia had driven Sarina and the baby into Asheville for a routine visit to the baby’s pediatrician. Afterward they stopped for a bite to eat and returned in the late afternoon. In the driveway of Max’s house, Sarina kissed Amelia’s cheek and thanked her. She disengaged the sleeping baby from her car seat, hefted Sarah onto one shoulder, and slung the diaper bag on the other. Then, softly humming a lullaby her mother had sung to her and her sisters when they were little, she hurried up the steps, across the porch, and into the house.

Anna beckoned from the kitchen. Sarina set down the diaper bag and went into the kitchen to find a highly agitated Jose sitting at the kitchen table. The look on his and Anna’s faces quickly wiped the smile from hers. Anna came to her and took the sleeping baby. Jose pulled out a chair for her at the table.

“Something has happened. What is it?” Sarina looked from one to the other. “Is someone ill? Where is my husband?”

Jose whispered the story of Zachary and Max’s confrontation. “The man, he was there, the man come for the cows. It was, how you say, humillación for Señor Max. He age twenty years.”

Sarina felt cold; anxiety caused her throat to tighten, and she could hardly speak. What had possessed Zachary to behave like that, and on this day with Max giving up his beloved cows? “Where is my husband now?”

Jose shrugged.

“I must find him.” Leaving the baby with Anna, Sarina grasped the railing with shaking hands and propelled herself up the stairs two at a time. What could she say to Zack? It was terrible that he should speak to his father with cruel and angry words, but she knew she could not chastise him. He would be seething. His anger was never short-lived. He nursed grudges. He might be waiting for her, their suitcases packed, determined to leave his father’s house this very night. What would she say or do? How could she pacify him?