“I’m not dismissing anything.”
“Then explain why our son believes you knew the reason for his silence.”
Zane had no answer.
He remained for another twenty minutes, barely speaking. Then, as he had done every year, he left before the blueberry pie was served.
Upstairs, Jeremy refused to unlock his door.
I sat in the hallway and told him I loved him. I promised that he was safe. I told him he could speak, write, or remain silent, and I would still stay with him.
Hours passed.
Near midnight, a folded piece of paper slid beneath his bedroom door.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
The note read:
