The words came out of him before he had decided to say them, and when he heard them he knew they were right.
Loretta drew herself up. "You’re putting me out."
"I’m driving you to Aunt Bernice’s. Pack a bag. Just for a few days. Just enough for now."
"You’re putting your own mother out of your house at ten o’clock at night." She looked at Danielle, finally, fully, and her eyes were wet and furious. "For her."
"No, Mama," Marcus said. "For him."
He watched it go into her. He watched her understand that he meant it, that there was nothing she could say that would move him, and he watched her decide not to try. She picked up her purse. She picked up her Bible in its quilted cover. She held them both against her chest, the way she had held them when she walked in, and she went past him without touching him, through the kitchen and down the hall to the room at the back of the house that had been the guest room until eighteen months ago, when his father died and she could not bear the house in Ensley anymore and he had said, Mama, come stay with us, as long as you want, we’ve got the room.
The door closed behind her. After a moment they heard the sound of drawers.
Danielle had not sat back down. She was standing by the table with one hand on the back of her chair, looking at him, and he could not read her face at all.
"The flight," she said.