A Pack of Their Own novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Callie, With a Duffel

Breakfast at Dunmore Ridge was eggs, ham, biscuits and an argument about a tree.

"A very aggressive tree," Grandpa repeated flatly, buttering a biscuit.

"Yes, sir," Roark said. He had washed his face and put on a clean shirt, and he did not blink.

"It pulled itself out of the ground and attacked you in the dark."

"I fought it, sir. I lost."

Teddy had a mouthful of ham and did not appear to be listening.

Callie was watching Roark with her fork in the air.

"Mm-hm," Grandpa said, and he looked at me.

I stared at my eggs and ate one with great interest.

Nana Bess set a fresh plate in front of me.

She glanced at Grandpa, and I watched him decide to let it go.

"Eat, girl," she said. "You'll need it."

Roark went out to the pasture to call his father back. He took his phone and a very stiff back.

Callie waited exactly until the door closed.

"Okay, I'm going to ask the obvious thing. Do either of you want to tell me what really happened to that tree?"

"No," I said.

"Great. I'll find out eventually. I'm going to go help Nana Bess with the bread."

She went. Teddy followed her, still chewing, and asked if there was any more ham.

I carried my plate into the front room and stopped at the mantel.

It was crowded with photographs in cheap frames.

There were weddings and a baby in a christening gown.

Three boys sat on a porch, laughing at somebody off the picture.

At the far end of the shelf, in a plain wooden frame, stood one more photograph.

It showed a teenage boy beside a huge white-bearded man, with a pine ridge behind them.

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