year.

Daniel came from one of those old Okanagan families who carried money like a family crest and mistakes like they were everybody else’s fault.

Carolyn had always been polished, smiling, expensive, and just off enough to make my shoulders tighten.

Not openly cruel.

Never where people could quote her exactly.

But Naomi had noticed that kind of woman her whole life.

Naomi was Syilx from Westbank.

Jessica carried her mother’s cheekbones, her dark eyes, and the quiet pride that made some people uncomfortable because they couldn’t bend it.

Carolyn had once asked Jessica at a dinner table whether she was “fully Native or just partly.” Another time she said mixed kids were “complicated these days” and laughed like she had made a charming observation.

Daniel always told Jessica not to take it so personally.

That was what Sunday had really been about.

Not one bad moment.

A hundred little ones.

Jessica tried to push herself up when she saw me, and pain tore across her face.

I slid my coat around her shoulders and lifted her as carefully as I could.

She still cried out.

Before I reached the truck, I sent one text to my brother.

It’s our turn.

Time for what Dad taught us.

Thomas answered before I could lock the door.

Call an ambulance.

Touch nothing else.

We do this right.

That sentence saved me from doing something stupid.

Our father had been a logging foreman and a hard man in the ways older men often were, but he taught us one thing with absolute clarity: if somebody hurts your family, rage is the first trap.

You breathe.

You look.

You remember.

You make sure the truth can stand up long after your fists are tired.

The ambulance met us on the access road.

At the hospital in Kelowna, they moved fast.

Concussion.

Two cracked ribs.

Deep bruising along her hip and shoulder.

Dehydration.

Exposure.

And one more sentence that nearly buckled my knees.

“There is a fetal heartbeat,” the doctor said.

“The pregnancy is still viable, but she’s under significant stress, so we need to monitor her very closely.”

I stared at him.

“Pregnancy?”

Jessica turned her head on the pillow, eyes wet.

“I was going to tell you after the next scan.”

Everything about Sunday dinner slammed into place at once.

The peppermint tea.

The careful way she moved.

The private smile.

I sat beside her bed and held her hand while the monitors clicked and hummed.

After a while she told me the rest.

Carolyn had texted her that morning asking to meet at Grand View, just the two of them.

She said she wanted to apologize for being “awkward” about the pregnancy.

Jessica hadn’t even told me she was pregnant yet, but Carolyn already knew because Daniel had told his mother the same day Jessica told him.

Jessica said she almost didn’t go, but she was tired of living inside doubt.

She wanted either peace or proof.

At first Carolyn acted soft.

She brought a thermos of tea.

She said motherhood made women emotional and that she only wanted what was best for Daniel.

Then the conversation turned.

Carolyn said Daniel had a future to think about.

She said families like theirs survived by protecting their line.

She said a baby with