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When I woke in the morning, the house was still quiet. Most of the family wouldn’t be up for another hour at least. But Pa Wood was always an early riser, and I’d gotten into the habit of making him his morning tea.
I went to the kitchen and prepared it the way he liked. Strong, with just a touch of honey as usual. Carried it upstairs on a small tray toward his study.
The door was slightly open. I could hear voices inside. Pa Wood and someone else.
Malachi.
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