I smiled down to her, but her eyes were still closed. And her face was suddenly peaceful, suddenly . . . suddenly more beautiful than I had ever dreamed; the sun streaming through the window glowed a golden halo around her head.

I touched her soft cheek, and whispered, "I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night."

Everly opened her eyes and looked at the closed Bible in my hands.

I touched her cheek again. "I'm not as much of a heathen as you think."

"You knew that verse by heart?"

"I was taught that verse by heart."

"By who?"

My fingers traced her jaw. "The same woman who believed we become what we start out as."

"Tell me more."

"The verse? Or about Julep?"

She paused for a moment. "I think they're kind of the same thing, Callum Andrew."

"Let's talk to God." Marta bowed her head as we sat around a table full of food. "Heavenly Father, we thank you for the blessings you've given us today. For our friends and family. For bringing Nicholas home to us. For the food you have provided . . ."

"Save Mart," I coughed.

"For my wonderful son who doesn't interrupt the blessing of our food. For the nourishment this food will provide our bodies. In Jesus' name. Amen."

Tatum kicked me under the table. "What?" I said. "I saw you steal a roll, so don't even fuckin' come for me, Tater."

"Don't' curse at my table. And I saw both of you steal rolls," Marta said. "For the record, so did God."

Everly looked at me. "The eyes of the LORD are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good."

"Well done," Marta said. "Everly, thank you for bringing a bit of maturity to the table."

I looked at Everly. "What the wicked fears will come upon him, but the desire of the righteous will be granted." I placed the roll on her plate and grinned.

"Do you go to church?" Marta asked her, passing a bowl of salad. Everly passed on the food but answered, "I do."

Marta's eyes lit up as if Jesus himself had just sat down for steak and baked potatoes. "Where do you attend?"

"Currently I'm attending at your dinner table."

"My table?"

"We prayed, didn't we? Isn't that what church is? Gathering to praise God?"

"I . . . suppose." Marta began to cut her steak. "It's more than I get from my children. I'll give you that much."

"I attended "church", too," I said. "Bowed my head like the rest of you."

"And stole bread during prayer," Everly laughed.

"Stop sucking up to my step-mother and put some food on your plate, Topolina."

Everly took a roll, and Marta filled her plate with steak, potato, and broccoli rabe. I could feel her discomfort as I ate my dinner, and as I glanced over to her plate, spied she had only pushed her food around.

I leaned in. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine."

"Not hungry?"

"I'm just tired."