THE PREY OF THE TERRIBLE
(Isaiah 49:25) 

By Tessa Harvey


    "I want the rest of my family, dad!" Jack stated firmly when his father walked into the kitchen the next morning. Sunlight streamed through the window, glinting on the shiny taps.
    The splodge of tomato soup splattered on the shiny bench top shone as though lit from within.
    Last night, his dad had yanked open the tomato soup can, heating it both for them both, then running a hot bath for Jack, gathering the sodden discarded clothes while respecting his privacy. He was behaving like a decent dad, not ignoring or berating him.
    Now the boy watched his father closely, half-afraid, but determined. For years there had been lies, petty deceptions.
    Mark felt angry also as he stared at his son. He stepped forward to intimidate him, but the boy held his ground. Perhaps he was truly his son.
    The man slumped wearily onto one of the two kitchen chairs and began his story.


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