Jane declined a slice of Danny's cherry pie because the pistachio fluff had already satisfied her sweet tooth. Besides, any more food would put her into a coma. The pie passed among the Gingery clan, the last piece claimed before making it to the end of the table. Those who missed out had to settle for a slice of the crouching bunny-shaped cake with coconut fur and jelly bean eyes.

The family had gathered for Easter weekend, and Genevieve's house overflowed with laughter and commotion. Now that Danny and Val were speaking, they seemed more accepted into the fold, holding their own against the witticisms thrown their way. Prett, however, retreated further into the shadows. He didn't engage in the conversations or the marathon board games.

So Jane wasn't surprised to see him slip outside and head towards the tree line after dinner. She stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing dishes and watching him walk through the thin layer of spring snow.

"He must be going to the cabin," Holly commented, setting another stack of dishes on the counter.

"Yeah," Jane replied.

"Can't blame him. After two days I'm ready for some peace and quiet, too."

"Still, it's too bad he doesn't feel like he fits in." Jane handed a rinsed casserole dish to Holly's older sister, Pam, who stacked it in the dishwasher.

"He just doesn't like crowds," Holly said. "Never has."

"He grew up in the woods," Pam said. "Away from everyone. That's why he likes that old place. Reminds him of home."

"Really?" Jane looked out the window again. "What's the cabin like? I've never been there."

"It's not much to look at," Holly said.

"Should've been torn down years ago," Pam added. "But maybe they've fixed it up. I haven't been over there in years."

"Me either," Holly said. "You should go, Jane. See what it's like."

"Only if you come with me."

"I promised the kids to play with them. Ask Danny. He'll take you."

Half an hour later, Jane surreptitiously put on her coat and stepped out the front door. She walked past the garage doors, stopping at the corner. Val was already at the tree line. As soon as he disappeared into the elms and cottonwoods, Jane counted. Once she reached sixty, she headed there, too. The subterfuge was to keep the younger Gingerys from noticing and following. According to Danny, a single adult headed into the woods was an oddity. A trio meant adventure.

Jane reached the trees and pushed her way through brush and dried sunflower stalks. She found the brothers waiting. "Was I followed?" she asked.

Danny shook his head, signing before he spoke. "So faw not."

He and Val watched for another minute before deeming their strategy a success.

"We won't have long," Val said as he signed. "The kids wanted another game of football before they head home."

He took the lead, with Jane behind and Danny bringing up the rear. Starlings fluttered and chattered above them, interspersed with self-identifying bobwhites. After traipsing through chunks of icy snow and decaying leaves, they reached a trail. The path wound around trees, down furrows, and up embankments before arriving at a steep gully. A bridge lay across the expanse—a couple dozen boards nailed to two logs. No handrail.

"Watch your step," Val said as he strode onto it. Midway through he pointed to a board as he stepped over it. "R-r-rotten." He pointed to another. "And th-this one."

Jane took care to avoid them.

The path continued on the other side but soon ended at a dirt road which widened into a front yard. A mobile home sat at the center, off-white with faded slate-blue trim. Aluminum steps led to the door. The brothers headed towards it.

Jane didn't move. "This is it?"

The brothers stopped to look at her.

"I was expecting a cabin. I mean, a log cabin. Not a trailer house."

With a grin, Danny returned to her side. "The pwevious ownas used it as ah huntin' cabin. Befoe Pappy and GiGi bought the land."

"Just how old it is?"

"Old."

"Does it even have electricity?"

Danny laughed and offered his arm. Val let out a whistle. By the time they reached the door, Prett had opened it. He glanced at them, then at the road and trail beyond.

"Is it just you?" he asked.

Val gave a nod. With one more skeptical glance at the trees, Prett returned inside. The interior wasn't as awful as Jane had imagined. The flooring and furniture were serviceable if not stylish, and the rooms were tidy. She felt sheepish for thinking she'd find it otherwise.

Prett dropped into a recliner.

"Janie wanted ta see the place," Danny said.

"We have a few minutes," Val said, sitting opposite his older brother. "Before the family sends a search party."

Danny tugged Jane through the kitchen to a short hallway. "Bathwoom," he said. The room retained its original 1970s harvest gold color scheme, except for the washer and dryer, which were white. At the end of the hall a bedroom contained two dressers and four bunk beds.

"You all slept in here together?" Jane asked.

"Yeah. Like when we wah kids. With the same fussin' and fightin'."

Jane laughed. "Which one was your bed?"

Danny pointed to a bottom bunk. Then he pointed to the second bottom bunk. "Val slept there. Pwett above."

"How long did you live here?"

Danny sighed. "Foe 'n a half long yeaws."

Jane looked around the tiny space. "How did you stand it?"

"Spent a lot ah time outside." He sat on his bunk. "Not much diff'ent than awmy life." He stretched out on the mattress. "Cept no girls." Scooting closer to the wall, he patted the space next to him, his blue eyes twinkling.

Jane shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

"Chicken."

"You need to invite Cady over here, not me."

His smile faded. "She liked me betta befoe I 'pologized."

Jane sighed and looked away. "Yeah."

Cadence.

Early last week Cadence had found the box of wartime letters between Margaret Wincek and Wiley Marvel. She had brought them to Jane, but the latter hadn't yet finished sorting Vivian's documents, so Cadence took the letters to her room to reread. Her dreamy smile as she clutched the box to her chest remained with Jane still.

Old love letters.

"Danny!" Jane looked at him, her thoughts swirling. "Have you ever written her a letter?"

The space between his eyebrows wrinkled.

"Cadence. Have you ever written her?"

"Ah've texted."

"No!" Jane gestured as if brandishing a pen. "A letter. A romantic letter. She's all gaga over your grandparents' wartime love letters. That's what gets her gooey." She sat on the edge of his mattress, placing her hand on his coat sleeve. "Write her a letter. Start a correspondence. I think she'll respond to that."

Danny stared at her a long moment, his eyes wary and resigned. Then Jane saw it. A glimmer of hope emerging from the pain of rejection.

He gave a nod. "'Kay."

From the living room, Prett shouted, "What are you doing back there? Do I need to chaperone?"

Danny grinned before shouting back, "Janie can't keep her hands off me!"

Jane's face heated. She snatched her hand from his arm. "You're..." She sputtered for a word as she stood. "Incorrigible."

With a laugh, Danny swung his legs off the bed.

"I don't even know why I try to help you," Jane said.

Danny stood and caught her upper arm. "Because ya love me." He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

Jane tried to shove him away, but he'd already released her and was exiting the bedroom. "I need to find another word for you."

"Chawming," he said over his shoulder.

"That's not it."

Prett rose from his recliner when they reentered the living room. "We'd better head back if we don't want to be invaded." He drew on his coat.

As they filed out the front door, Jane noticed another door catty-corner to it. "What's in there?" she asked. "Closet?"

"Stowage." Danny pulled the door open long enough for Jane to note a bedroom filled with boxes.

"What's in them?"

"Junk."

Jane scowled as she followed Danny out. He locked the trailer door. Then, seeing her expression, he gave a half smile similar to his older brother's.

"Memowies," he said. "What's left of ahw past."

"Oh. Like photos? Do you want me to sort them for you?"

He held her gaze a moment. Then he looked at Prett, walking down the drive with his hands in his coat pockets. With a slight head shake, Danny held out his hand indicating Jane should descend the stairs first.

As they walked to the trail in a single line, Jane's chest filled with a heaviness. Prett hadn't said a word disparaging her organization of the family's documents. He even purchased the equipment and supplies she requested without comment. Yet underlying his seeming acceptance of her new job she'd sensed his disapproval. Then Holly had told her he removed boxes from the quonset. Nothing of Vivian's or Genevieve's, but ones belonging to he and his brothers. And their parents. Jane hadn't wanted to believe it. Yet here was proof. Why did he do it? What did he have to hide?

She was so focused on possible reasons for Prett's secreting away history she forgot to avoid the rotten board on the handmade bridge. In an instant her leg crashed through. She fell forward, her hands and torso landing hard against the wood. Her left leg folded awkwardly behind her, reinjuring her ankle. She cried out in pain and shock.

Danny grabbed her around the waist and pulled. But the splintered board dug into her right thigh, trapping it. "No, stop!" she yelled, her voice pitched high with pain. Danny let go.

The bridge shook as Prett and Val rushed back onto it. Jane rested a moment, her breaths in fast gasps. Then she untwisted her left leg, stretching it flat against the boards. She rolled her body to assess her right leg's entrapment. By this time Danny had repositioned. He lifted his leg over the rotten board.

Jane held up her hand. "I think I can—"

At the same time, Prett said, "Let's think—"

Danny stomped with force and the board gave way. Her leg released, Jane rolled toward the gap before catching herself. She pushed to her hands and her left knee, struggling to pull her right leg up. Once more Danny grabbed her around the waist. He hauled her upright. She found her feet, and though her ankle protested, she could still bear weight on it.

Prett offered his hand. "Can you walk?"

She nodded. He helped her hobble over the gap and the remaining boards. "I need to sit down, though," she said, pointing to a large overturned tree.

"Maybe Val should carry you."

"No, just let me sit." She tugged Prett's hand as she did so, hoping he would join her. Instead, he let go. She dropped her hand to the cold, wet bark before reaching down to examine her jeans. They weren't ripped, but her leg's skin felt scraped underneath. And her ankle throbbed on her other leg. "I seem to have a penchant for getting into trouble," she said.

"It's my fault," Prett said. "I've been meaning to replace those boards since last summer."

Jane shook her head. "Val pointed them out. I just forgot."

"You sure you're okay? You're looking pale."

"I'll be fine. Just need to calm down. My heart's beating a mile a minute." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her hand over her heart. "Just need to rest."

The chill air, combined with the adrenaline, caused her to shiver. She pulled her hands into her sleeves and crossed her arms to warm herself.

After a minute, Danny sat next to her. Val folded his arms and leaned against a tree. Only Prett continued standing.

Above them a meadowlark chittered.

A mourning dove answered it.

Danny sighed. He patted his legs absentmindedly.

Jane still shivered.

Danny's leg patting morphed to a drumbeat.

Val pushed off from the tree. He cleared his throat. And sang.

He directed his baritone at her.

Home by Phillip Phillips.

Danny kept the beat. After the first verse, Prett joined in with his tenor and Danny harmonized.

Jane sat with her mouth open, staring. At these three long-haired mountain men singing to her. Telling her not to feel alone or scared or lost. Telling her this place was her home.

Here, under the trees and birds. With dry leaves and snow at her feet.

The pressure in her chest returned, this time due to the overwhelming feeling of love washing over her. She wiped away the unbidden tears slipping down her cheeks. By the end of the song, she no longer shivered.

Their voices faded.

The meadowlark twittered.

From deep in the trees a cacophony of young voices shouted and squealed.

Prett took a deep breath. "Time's up." He jerked his chin to the sounds. "The Gingerys are on the manhunt."

*****

Jane stood in the truck stop vestibule looking at the café. Prett had offered to carry out this task, but she had insisted she could do it herself. Now she wished she hadn't asserted her independence.

Next time I'll play the weak-willed damsel.

Mustering her courage, she walked up to the counter and asked for Gavin Turney.

"He's probably in his office," the brunette waitress answered. She directed Jane to the convenience store at the opposite side of the building.

She spoke to a checker who consulted a supervisor who sent her with a pimply stockboy to the office. Gavin frowned when he saw her. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to get my free gas. I was wondering how—"

"That's all," Gavin said to the nervous boy standing wide-eyed behind her. "I'll take care of this."

The teen bolted, and Jane stepped further into the office. The door swung shut behind her. Gavin sat at an oversized desk stacked with receipts. Cubbies and shelves lined the walls, stuffed with books, papers, and electronic equipment.

"I wasn't sure if I should fill up first—"

"I got you a gift card," Gavin interrupted. He dug through an inbox of papers and pulled out a small manilla envelope. He tossed it on the desk towards her. "When it runs out, I'll refill it."

"Oh. Okay." Jane picked up the envelope. "What about free meals at the café?"

"Card works for either. No need to bother me unless it's running low. Just text me. P.J. has my number."

"Okay." She waved the envelope. "Thanks for this."

Gavin didn't reply. With a sour face, he picked up his receipts. Jane turned to leave. When she reached the door, Gavin spoke.

"They're not the saints you think they are."

Jane turned, her hand still on the doorknob. "What?"

"The Marvel brothers."

"I don't—"

"History of violence. All of them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Danny. Killed lots of men."

"Well, it was war, so—"

"Sure enjoyed it. Being a sniper."

"I don't think—"

"And Tom—Val—whatever you call him. Did a stint in jail for brawling. P.J., the same thing for assault."

"Why are you—"

"Course, that's not the worst. P.J. killed his own stepdaddy. Shot him in the back of the head. Never spent a day in jail. Walked away scot-free."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: When I was a kid, we always spent Easter with my maternal grandma, aunt, uncles, and two cousins. My Aunt Frances always made the best pistachio salad with black walnuts picked from her own tree. Yum. 😋 She also made bunny-shaped cakes like this one:

So Easter at the Gingerys is an homage to my childhood. 😁

Fun Fact #2: My maternal grandfather lived in Shelton, Nebraska, but met my grandmother while visiting his sister in Denver, Colorado. They wrote to each other for several months, got married, and then lived apart for their first year. My grandfather planned to move to Colorado but found he couldn't leave the family farm, so my grandmother eventually joined him in Shelton. I have the letters he wrote over those eighteen months or so, but few of the ones my grandmother wrote. (Obviously Grandpa wasn't as sentimental about keeping them. 😄) Their letters, written in 1918/1919, are my inspiration for the letters Cadence so loves. Here's their wedding picture:

Fun Fact #3:  I started writing this novel soon after Home came out. I've had the scene in mind for close to five years! Finally got it written. 😉 

Lyrics to Home by Phillip Phillips:

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm going to make this place your home

Fun Fact #4: Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. He just has to ruin everything, doesn't he? 😂 But we're going to start learning just what Prett might be hiding in those boxes...

Be sure to vote and comment! ⤵