Chapter 28: The Broken Glass

Geneva's POV

Vaughn's truck came down the gravel road at seven on Saturday morning, and my son was waiting on the porch rail in his rain boots.

He had been there since five.

"He's here!" Sam yelled into the house. "Dad's here! He brought a box!"

It was a toolbox, and a long flat crate under one arm that I did not like the look of.

"Nothing big," I said through the screen.

"It's glass," Vaughn said. "For the kitchen door."

I looked at the door behind me.

A square of cardboard had been taped over the broken pane for six weeks.

Kendra had broken it in the dark to get to my kitchen, and I had not been able to look at the tape since without thinking of her in this room.

"I could have called someone," I said.

"I know you could."

He stood at the bottom of the steps and did not come up until I stepped aside.

His hand went to the inside pocket of his coat and stayed there.

The jail envelope was in it, sealed, with my name in her capitals.

"Not yet," I said. "I told you I'd open it when I was ready."

"I know. I only wanted you to see I still have it."

I was not ready, and he took his hand away without another word.

My aunt appeared at my elbow with a mug of coffee and no second mug.

"You're late," she told him.

"It's seven."

"I said six-thirty."

"You said Saturday, ma'am."

"I say a lot of things."

He took it without a flinch, and I saw the corner of her mouth twitch before she hid it in the coffee.

He worked on the door for two hours.

He pulled the tape and scraped the old putty, and he measured the frame three times.

Sam sat on an upturned bucket and handed him tools by name.

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