Chapter 13: What the Lawn Heard

All night I saw Dina's small, perfect smile through the lawyer's window.

Sierra drove up the lane at noon on Saturday in her fiancé's white pickup, much too fast for the ruts.

I was on the porch roof with a hammer, driving each nail hard into the cedar.

Jed stood on the ladder below me, passing up shingles.

The truck stopped at the gate, and a young woman in white sneakers stepped out into the mud.

She held her purse in front of her with both hands.

"That one's yours," Jed said.

"That's Sierra."

"Want me gone?"

"Stay on the ladder. This roof isn't done."

I came down and wiped my palms on my jeans.

Sierra looked at the missing porch boards, at the barn, at the white line of mountains behind it.

"It's bigger than the picture Mom had," she said.

"What picture?"

"A listing photo, from years ago. She said it was a pile of boards."

"Some of it is. Come inside, the stove's lit."

She sat in my grandfather's chair and kept her coat on.

I poured her coffee, and she held the cup without drinking.

She had her mother's hair and her mother's careful way of folding her hands.

"Dad sent me," she said. "I drove nine hours. I told them I wanted to see you alone."

"You wanted to see me."

"Yes." Her voice wobbled. "Everyone's so angry, and the wedding is in two weeks, and I just want it to be okay."

She slid a long envelope across the table.

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