That was true, but not the whole story. My father’s partner had found me at the quarry, and insisted on following me home. He said, I told your father I’d make sure, and those were his final words. He didn’t mention Jason or the kids he’d seen drinking or the guilty way I’d started at his sudden appearance. He’d watched Jason with those flat, cop eyes, then stared Chance down with the same unflinching distaste. Shouldn’t you be leaving, too? In the driveway, he’d watched me to the house, then waited as my father pulled in behind us. I missed their conversation, but from the door, I’d seen my father glance my way with the same cop eyes.

“You weren’t at school today,” my mother said.

“I was at the quarry.”

“Senior Skip Day is tradition, I know, but you’re back in school on Monday. That means homework, papers, final exams. No slacking because the end is near.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She forked a bite of salad, and that, too, was part of the dance. No mention of Robert or Jason or the war. I wasn’t sure where her mind went in the silence between questions, but guessed it was the future or some other bright place.

My father knew the dance as well: keep it simple and light and surface. “Have you thought more about a summer job?”

“They want to hire me at the marina.”

“Again?”

He was disappointed, but I liked the boats, the water, the smell of fuel. His frown deepened, but he couldn’t really argue. I’d be at college in the fall. That meant deferment. He smiled stiffly, and my mother sipped wine.

For me, though, the dance wasn’t working. “Did you know Jason is out of prison?”

The question fell like a bomb. My mother choked on her wine. My father said, “Son…”

“You should have told me.”

The anger came unexpectedly and suddenly, and its cause was unclear. How they managed my life? The things I’d felt as my brother fell? Only the emotion was certain, this unfamiliar anger.

“Who told you?” my mother asked.

“I saw him. We spoke.”

She dabbed a napkin at the corners of her mouth. “About me, I suppose?”

“We might have touched on that.”

She smoothed the napkin in her lap, and looked away.

“You knew, of course. Didn’t you? You knew that he was back.”

“We thought it best to keep the two of you apart.” Her gaze, that time, was direct and unapologetic. She sat calmly and straight, an elegant woman. “Shall we discuss the reasons?”

“Has anything changed since the last time we discussed reasons?”

“Not for me.”

I turned to my father. “Dad?”