SIXTEEN
The same type of nails would have been used for Jesus' crucifixion.
‘Dad?’ Isaac asked nervously, his apprehension so great his voice hardly carried across the width of the table. His heart beat furiously and he could only breathe in shallow pants. Ever since he had returned from the Forge, he had been trying to find an opportunity to talk to his father, but the right moment never seemed to come.
All through dinner he had waited, hoping that the conversation might give him an opening, but Mary Margaret and Eleanor were chattering away about nothing of importance and almost as soon as they had got up and left, Harold had come in late from his shift and sat at the table for what seemed like forever, and still showed no signs of leaving. Isaac wanted his mam to be there when he ask
