Winter had loosened one of the boards.
Emma sat beside him, supervising like a tiny construction manager.
“You’re holding that wrong,” she announced.
“You have never held a hammer in your life,” Luke replied.
“I’ve watched people use one.”
“On television?”
“That still counts.”
I walked toward them carrying lemonade.
Emma reached for the hammer.
Luke immediately moved it out of reach.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I prefer all ten of your fingers attached.”
“I know how to use it!”
“No, you absolutely do not.”
Emma turned toward me.
“Tell him.”
Luke sighed.
“Mom, please tell her she is not touching this hammer.”
Everything inside me went still.
Mom.
He had said it easily.
Naturally.
Then, for just half a second, I saw panic flash across his face.
He glanced at Emma.
The old fear had returned.
Would calling me Mom hurt his sister?
Would loving me mean betraying her?
