The bed was made, shoes lined against the wall. A single shelf was rowed with books and framed photographs. Elizabeth lifted a picture of Gideon’s mother taken on her wedding day. She wore a simple dress and a ring of flowers in her hair. She stood in front of the old church, her new husband young and clean-cut and handsome. The next two pictures were of Elizabeth and Gideon: a picnic in the park, one at the river. There were no other pictures of his father, and that felt about right. The last was of Gideon and Elizabeth’s parents. The boy enjoyed church and sang in the choir. Elizabeth would pick him up on Sundays and take him. She never went in herself—that was an old promise—but her parents loved the boy almost as much as she did.
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