The gentle sound of the doves in the wisteria woke Will on Saturday morning. They always had an ongoing and enthusiastic discussion about appropriate partners, nest placement, and the principles of parenting in the late spring and early summer. It was one of the sounds of home.
It had taken him quite a while to fall asleep last night. He had lain in his childhood bed, looking up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the house settling around him. He’d taken what Fenn said about the Border seriously, but there was nothing stirring. No suggestion of anything. Eventually, his eyes had drooped shut and he had slept peacefully.
This morning he felt refreshed, in all the ways that mattered. He felt calm. He had made his decision and his loyalty lay with Fenn. At
