Chapter 6: The Confession on the Steps
In late February, an unexpected thaw melted the snow along the ridge road into rushing streams of clear water.
A battered grey sedan rumbled up the gravel driveway of the homestead.
Jenna stepped out into the mud.
She wore a thin wool coat, worn sneakers, and carried no luggage except a small leather handbag. Her face was pale, drawn, and completely stripped of the arrogant defiance she had displayed on the night of the confrontation.
She walked toward the cabin steps, her hands trembling violently inside her pockets.
Through the screen door, Martha watched her niece approach. Martha did not shout. She walked out onto the porch, folding her arms across her chest, her grey eyes calm, unyielding, and testing.
""You are on sacred ground, Jenna,"" Martha said softly, her voice cutting through the crisp air. ""Why are you here?""
Jenna stopped at the bottom step, falling to her knees in the wet gravel and dead oak leaves, burying her face in her hands as deep, agonizing sobs tore through her chest.
""Aunt Martha, please..."" Jenna wept, her voice cracking with raw, unvarnished misery. ""I have nowhere else to go. Mark left three weeks ago. Mom won't answer my letters. I am so ashamed of what I did... I can't sleep. I can't breathe.""
The cabin door opened wider.
Lauren stepped onto the porch. She was wearing her canvas work trousers, a dark flannel shirt, and heavy leather boots, her hair tied back in a neat, functional bun.
May you like
Jenna looked up, freezing in the gravel as she met her sister’s eyes.
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