Page 56 of The Silence Between

Sister Margaret, the elderly nun who'd been a constant ally through custody battles and housing crises, sorted canned goods beside me with the focused determination of someone who'd spent eighty years in service to others.

“Mari's college applications progressing?” she asked, her arthritic hands deftly organizing soup cans by expiration date.

“She’s got the scholarship to the college she wanted and we are still ironing out the details.” I confirmed.

“And the younger ones? Diego and Sophie?”

“Sophie's thriving in school. Diego's... getting the support he needs.”

She nodded, familiar with the long struggle to get proper educational accommodations for Diego's learning differences. “And you? Eleanor mentioned you might take some community college classes yourself.”

“If I get accepted. And if I can make the schedule work.”

“Good. It's about time.”

Her simple approval meant more than she could know—validation from someone who'd witnessed our hardest moments without judgment, who understood the magnitude of stability we'd achieved against overwhelming odds.

“Heard Ethan is back in town,” she mentioned casually, though her sideways glance was anything but casual. “Teaching at the high school.”

News traveled with supernatural speed through Riverton's interconnected community networks. I shouldn't have been surprised she knew, yet somehow I was.

“Yeah. Teaching Sophie, as it happens.”

“And how are you managing that particular blast from the past?”

Sister Margaret's question created space for honesty impossible in other contexts—the community center itself a kind of confessional where pretenses served little purpose.

“Avoiding him as much as possible,” I admitted. “Not very successfully.”

“And why is that your strategy?”

I placed cans on the shelf with more force than necessary. “Because seeing him makes me question decisions that can't be changed.”

“Such as?”

“Pointless hypotheticals. I made my choice. Revisiting it doesn't change anything.”

Sister Margaret's weathered hands paused their work. “Acknowledging roads not taken doesn't diminish the value of the one you chose, Leo.”

The sound of the door opening cut through our conversation, followed by a familiar voice talking to someone in the hallway. I froze, soup can suspended midair, as Ethan backed into the pantry, arms full of a cardboard box.

“Just let me drop these off and I'll be right with you,” he was saying to someone outside. He turned, spotted Sister Margaret first, and smiled. “Got those books you wanted for the literacy program.”

Then his eyes found mine, and his smile flickered just for a second before settling back in place. No dramatic reaction, just a brief moment of surprise before adapting to yet another unexpected encounter.

“Leo. Hey,” he said simply, setting the box on a table. The casual greeting somehow felt more natural than any carefully constructed formality.

Sister Margaret looked between us with poorly disguised interest. “Perfect timing, Ethan. I need to check on the after-school program. Why don't you help Leo finish with these cans?”

Before either of us could object, she was shuffling toward the door with surprising speed for someone pushing eighty. “Won't take but a minute with two sets of hands,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing.

Subtle as a heart attack, that woman.

“She's not even trying to be sneaky anymore,” I muttered, returning to shelving cans.

Ethan laughed softly, picking up a can of beans. “Reminds me of Mrs. Henderson from the library senior year. Remember how she'd always find reasons to seat us at the same study table?”

I did remember. The old librarian had been our unwitting accomplice, creating opportunities for us to “accidentally” end up together without raising suspicions.

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