Chapter 24: The Porch Swing

On the second Saturday of January, Norman drove us to Marren Falls in a light snow.

I wore the thrift store parka, a dark green one with a torn pocket lining that Hallie had mended with her own needle.

It cost thirty-one dollars, and I paid for it with my own card.

"It still isn't haunted," Hallie said from the back seat, "but it's warm."

"It's warm," I agreed.

Mom's house looked the same as it had in November, except for the lights.

Every window was lit.

The pie sat on the porch rail with a plate turned over it, and the swing hung beside it on its chains.

Dad's car was in the driveway.

Mom had come out onto the porch in her good cardigan, and she was holding the door, and she did not come down the steps.

She waited for us to come up.

"Mr. Hendry," she said. "Hallie. Quinn."

"Mrs. Lasker," said Norman, and took off his cap.

Dad stood by the porch post with his hands in his jacket pockets.

I climbed the steps, and Mom did not move to hug me.

She looked at me from a careful distance and said, "That's a good coat."

"It was thirty-one dollars."

"It looks warm."

"It is."

That was all, and it was enough.

Hallie and Norman took the porch steps, and the cold boards creaked under them.

Mom sat down at one end of the swing, and Dad lowered himself onto the other end.

The middle cushion was empty between them, as it had been in November.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Boy You Starved for Him from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.