“Gabe, would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked from the kitchen.

Gabe turned around, almost startled.  He had been sitting on the couch, the low murmur of Mom and Dad’s voices stopped.  “I…sure,” he said.

“Do you take anything in it?  Cream?  Sugar?”

“No, just black.  Thank you.”  He turned back around to face the large front window.  

I walked back into the kitchen, “This is an interesting character you’ve brought home, Zach.”

“Yeah.  I mean usually they talk a mile a minute because they’re a little out of it from being on the street.  This guy doesn’t seem to know what to say.”

“I prefer the quiet ones,” Kat said.

“You would,” Zach replied as he loaded the last dish into the dishwasher.

I took Gabe his coffee and settled myself on the couch with a book.  Zach and Kat finished up in the kitchen and Kat returned to our room.  Zach joined Gabe and I on the couch.  Mom and Dad continued their quiet conversation at the dining room table.

Zach sat without talking, but not quietly.  Not talking was an unusual state of being for Zach, who, like our mother pretty much had something to say almost all the time.  As if to compensate for his lack of verbal output, he began tapping his foot as he glanced about the room.  Gabe and I both watched him, which made him more nervous.

Zach was trying to heed Kat’s advice to give the forced conversation with Gabe a rest and it took every ounce of his concentration.  Finally, he gave up.

“What are you reading, Bree?”

“Pride and Prejudice,” I answered.

“Haven’t you memorized it by now?”

“Not quite.   I get something new every time I read it.  That’s why classics are classics.”

“I feel the same way about Dostoevsky,” Gabe had spoken, quietly, but he had spoken.  It was the first time he had initiated any part of the conversation.

“Wow…you’ve read Dostoevsky,” Zach said.

“Yeah, I came across a copy of Crime and Punishment.  I you know, I read it.  It took me a long time, but I yeah.  I read it.  A couple of times.”

“A couple of times.  Sheesh.”

“Zach can’t sit still long enough to get through it once, Gabe,” I smiled at him.

“Aww, c’mon Bree.  Not everyone wants to sit around and think about books.”

“I don’t just think about them.  It’s more than that.  I’ve tried to explain it to you before.”

“The story becomes part of you,”  Gabe added, again, very quietly.

“Yeah,” I said, eyeing Gabe curiously.

Dad stood up.  “I think I’m going to go and tinker with my trains.”

“Have fun honey,” Mom said as she rose from the table.

“What kind of trains, sir?” Gabe had spoken again.

“I have model trains in the basement.”

“Ahhh” Gabe said almost dream like.

“Would you like to see them?”

“I would, if it’s OK.”

“Sure.”

Gabe and Dad left the room.  I went back to my book.  Zach, not sure what to do with himself….

Later in the evening, Mom called us all for evening prayers.  Dad and Gabe had spent several hours in the basement.  Gabe lingered downstairs after Dad as we began our prayers.  I found it hard sometimes to concentrate on the words of the prayers being spoken, unless it was my turn to read them.  Often, I simply said in my head, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” over and over.  Normally this quieted me so that I felt removed from my normal surroundings.

Tonight, as I said this prayer while Mom recited the chain of evening prayers, I heard soft footfalls, something large being lifted from the floor and the front door open and close behind me.