Maeve
It was 7:00 in the morning, and the pale sunlight coming through the windows of the informal dining room off the kitchen was doing nothing to help illuminate the room.
I had woken to Troy readying the boys for the day. He was trying not to wake me, but my sleep had been so shallow I had only been lingering on the edge of true sleep for several hours at that point. He was taking the boys to Ingra so I could rest, for which I was thankful, but the hour between 6:00 and 7:00 proved to be restless and lonely.
I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep. Gemma was seated across from me at the round table, stirring sugar into her coffee. Ernest was using his finger to swipe a taste of oatmeal against George’s tongue, and to his left sat Rowan, and then Troy, who was talking in
