On the last night of the camping trip, Jonathan passed around hot chocolate packets and boiled water over the campfire. Clark had already fallen asleep, curled up on his folding chair.

They'd be heading back to the farm in the morning. And tomorrow afternoon was Lionel's trial.

"Are you feeling ready?" Jonathan asked Lex. "Anything you want to go over again?"

The boy shrugged, his hand frozen holding the thermos, eyes glazed over and staring at the fire.

"Hey." Martha put a hand on his arm, and he looked up at her. "What's on your mind, sweetie?"

"What if I mess up?"

Jonathan wasn't sure whether Lex thought "messing up" would mean Lionel ended up in jail for a long time, or if it meant Lionel was released. So he just said, "Just tell the truth, son."

He shifted in his seat. "What's going to happen to him?"

Jonathan let out his breath. His six-year-old son had had an easier time with honesty than Jonathan was having now. "I think he'll be sentenced for child abuse."

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"But he doesn't abuse me."

"Son—"

"My mom did all the same things he did. They both took away privileges, like you do with Clark. My mom even swatted me sometimes. What's the difference?"

Jonathan exchanged a glance with Martha and carefully considered his next words. In some ways, this would be so much easier if Lionel had simply beaten the boy. They could promise they'd never do the same and leave it at that.

He looked Lex right in the eyes. "Son . . . Martha's mother sometimes sent her to bed without dinner. It wasn't ideal, but it's still very different from not letting you eat for a whole day. I've heard of parents not letting their 17-year-old kid into the house after they miss curfew one too many times. But that's not the same as making a young child sleep outside for being up after bedtime. And standing in the corner is one thing, but an hour with your hands over your head . . ."

Lex's eyes were fixed on Jonathan, hanging on his every word.

Jonathan swallowed hard. "My father . . . took me out to the woodshed, a few times. I hated it. But he never would have punished me for something that was an accident. And he never would have . . . I dunno, shoved me into a display case. If I ever tripped and fell into one, he would have called an ambulance, not a neighbor who overheard me screaming. He wasn't perfect, but he never, ever made me wonder whether he loved me. We never make Clark wonder, either."

Lex's eyes grew shiny.

"When your mom disciplined you, did she still love you?"

"Yes . . ." Lex's head dropped.

Jonathan didn't need to ask the same question about Lionel. He could already see the answer in Lex's eyes.