As soon as we get back to the house, lunch is being served. Like Bertha and the others knew when exactly we would be back. I’m not feeling hungry at all, but I can’t stand to turn Bertha’s food away.
“How was your night back home, Dear?” She asks as she puts the last of the plates on the table. There are salads of different kinds in front of us – cream puddings for something sweet. She always makes way too much and I wonder what happens with all the leftovers after every meal.
“It was nice, thank you. Great to see my parents for the New Year.” I smile, taken aback by her question. I didn’t think my whereabouts would be something Elijah would discuss with her. But I guess she probably questioned where I was yesterday. I watch her face and it’s as warm and welcoming as ever. No sign of a
