“Let us eat,” their father announced, and Cain was the first to dig in. “Did you re-shoe the horses today?”
“Yes,” Cain answered over a mouthful of food.
“And what of the east field, Adam?”
He hesitated, the food tasting as bitter as a lie on his tongue. “I was mending the wheels for the buggy most of the day.”
His father paused, his brow kinked as he met his stare. “The entire day?”
Before Adam could swallow his food and form an excuse, Grace gasped. He realized too late he failed to guard his thoughts. The clatter of silverware stilled as prickling curiosity bore into him.
“Adam?”
He met his father’s inquisitive stare, wincing at the sharp barb of concern flowing from him.
Grace’s fork and knife trembled as she lowered them to the table. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the throb of her regret churning with his parent’s worry. Cain was the only one not pummeling Adam with emotions, as he stuffed his face.
Their species possessed telepathy on varying levels, an ability mainly used for survival and limited to human interactions. His sister’s gifts excelled beyond the norm and if he hadn’t been so drained, his thoughts would have been concealed better.
He placed a hand over hers and squeezed. “It’s all right, sister. I let my guard slip.”
“Adam?” their father repeated, understanding that Grace must have overheard something concerning.
Their mother peered across the table. “Did something happen?”
“It is fine, Mother. Everything’s fine.”
Cain let out a quiet puff of laughter as he shoveled another mouthful of mashed potatoes passed his lips.
Their father turned his frown to Grace. “Grace?”
“I...” Wide pleading eyes shifted to Adam. “You have to tell them.”
This wasn’t how he hoped to share his news, but he was running out of time. His shoulders lowered. “I’ve been called.”
His mother gasped, her silverware clattering to the plate as his father’s nerves spiked and swelled about the room. “Are you certain?”
Adam nodded. “I have no doubt. I meant to tell you tonight after supper.” He glanced to Grace who wore a stricken mix of guilt and excitement. “But Gracie beat me to it.”
Silence engulfed the kitchen as the significance of such news settled in. Finally, his father said, “You’ll leave tonight.”
Chapter Four
Jonas settled Abilene down in bed, and once her concerns for Adam quieted, he sought his father’s counsel. As the patriarch of the Hartzler family, and esteemed member of the Elder’s Council, Ezekiel needed to be aware of his grandson’s situation.
Jonas’s father understood the significance of a calling. His three hundred years on this earth had prepared him with a myriad of experiences, both joyous and heartbreaking. Most devastating of all, was the unanswered call of Isaiah Hartzler, Ezekiel’s brother. He simply waited too long and the repercussions changed the design of their family’s lineage forever.
Once rogue, Isaiah escaped the Order and Ezekiel filled his seat on the Elder’s Council in his stead. His first order of business being the execution of his brother. The day had never come, but the looming possibility of Isaiah’s havoc hung like an omen over their family’s name.
Ezekiel would not be pleased to learn of Adam’s hesitation. His son should have responded to the calling the moment he first received testimony.
Leaning into the molding of the house, Jonas knocked for his father. His father seemed to understand this was more than a leisurely visit the moment he set eyes on Jonas.
“What is it, my son?” Though Ezekiel lived one hundred and fifty years before Jonas’s birth, they appeared the same age. They both seemed no more than a quarter century old. Their shoulder-length, black hair and glowing hazel eyes were identical. “Come inside.”
Ushering Jonas into the house, he took his hat in hand. “Is Mother about?”
“She’s upstairs. She won’t disturb us.”
Bonded couples, over time, often shared a mental pathway. Jonas shared no such thing with Abilene, as they were not bonded, but he assumed his father sent his mate a message not to disturb them and for that Jonas was grateful.
He followed his father’s dark silhouette through the house, into the den. As Ezekiel lit the lamps his black attire gave a silent reminder of his authority and traditional views. But his rugged six-foot-two build and imposing, muscular breadth told the story of a male who would not sit down in the face of any challenge.
Jonas always took it as a great compliment when others remarked on their similarities. Despite the years separating father and son, they could easily be mistaken for twins. While their kind did age, it was at a suspended rate and they regenerated cells so fast that beyond adulthood they simply appeared within their prime, never looking a day over thirty.
Settling into the wingback chair, his gaze drifted to the streak of white hair that told them apart. That was something his father acquired after the disappearance of his brother, some eighty years ago. Such markings were rare in their species but told of how deeply Isaiah’s disappearance affected Ezekiel.