UNBROKEN PROMISE

~43~ Growing Tension

The dinning table was tensed, Logan's absence was glaring, and while everyone had initially tried to act as if nothing was amiss, the heated atmosphere was impossible to ignore. Mama Becca, ever the matriarch, cleared her throat as she served herself spoonful of stew, breaking the silence.

"So," she began, her voice light though her eyes were sharp as they flicked toward Ezra and Clara, "how'd your little chat with Logan go?"

Clara scoffed audibly, her fan snapping shut as she exchanged a smug glance with Ezra. Neither of them acknowledged Mama Becca, instead continuing to eat with exaggerated poise. It was as though the question had simply drifted into the air, unnoticed and unworthy of response.

Jacob, sitting at the head of the table, exchanged a look with Megan, who arched an eyebrow in clear irritation. He cleared his throat, his voice low and steady but unmistakably firm. "I think Mama Becca asked y'all a question," he said, his eyes fixed on Ezra.

Ezra dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin before finally deigning to respond. "Well," he began, his tone slow and measured, "I wasn't sure if it was directed at me, considering the... hierarchy here." He glanced around the table, his smug smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. "Certainly, I don't expect I should have to answer to a—" He paused, clearing his throat as his eyes flicked briefly toward Mama Becca. The insinuation hung in the air, the unspoken word louder than anything he could have said.

The room froze. Forks paused mid-air, the clinking of silverware against plates silenced. Even Caleb, usually oblivious to adult tension, looked up from his plate, his big eyes darting between the adults as Cookie let out a soft, low growl from his spot beside him.

Megan, who had been quietly fuming throughout lunch, finally snapped. She set down her fork with a clatter and folded her arms across her chest, her eyes blazing as she looked straight at Ezra. "Alright, I've had just about enough of this," she said, her voice sharp. "Y'all ain't even been here a full day, and already you're struttin' around like you own the place. Disrespectin' Mama Becca, Logan, and everyone else under this roof like you're better than us."

"Megan," Jacob said softly, his hand reaching under the table to touch her arm. His tone was calm, but the warning was clear. Megan huffed but didn't back down, her gaze still locked on Ezra and Clara.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mock surprise. "I wasn't aware I'd disrespected anyone," he said, spreading his hands as if he were innocent. "I'm simply stating facts as I see them. Surely, a family this... quaint can handle a little honesty."

Jacob clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin. "You're only here because you're Oma's uncle," he said, his voice low but laced with authority. "But let me make one thing clear, you don't disrespect anyone in this house, especially not Mama Becca. I won't stand for it."

Clara, who had been fanning herself with an air of detached amusement, finally spoke up. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, rolling her eyes. "Ezra didn't say anything wrong. Y'all are just too sensitive." Her voice was clipped, each word dripping with condescension.

Caleb, sensing the rising tension but not fully understanding it, leaned toward Mama Becca and whispered loudly, "She's talkin' funny, Grandma." His innocent observation broke through the tension, and everyone except for Clara and Ezra burst into laughter. Even Jacob allowed a small chuckle to escape as he glanced down at Caleb, who was grinning proudly at his contribution.

Oma, however, didn't join in the laughter. She sat stiffly, her eyes downcast as she picked at her plate. Her mind was racing, her heart sinking deeper with every word exchanged between her family and her uncle and aunt. This was a battle she hadn't asked for, one she didn't even know how to fight.