Beyond the Spring Breeze novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Other House

The ferry was a flat-bottomed boat with room for six cars and a rope that creaked on the winch.

I rolled my bicycle aboard behind the last truck and kept my braid under my collar.

My father's truck sat three cars ahead.

He stayed in the cab the whole crossing.

I stood at the rail in the dusk, watching the lights of the Neck come up out of the water, and I tried to decide what I felt.

I had expected rage.

What I felt was a long, cold, patient curiosity.

On the far side, I let the trucks roll off and gave my father a head start.

Then I pedaled after his taillights down a gravel lane lined with crab pots and rusted mailboxes.

The lane ended at a small gray house with a blue door and a porch light on.

It sat at the edge of the marsh, very neat.

Window boxes.

A bicycle against the rail.

A girl's bicycle.

I knew the basket.

I leaned my own bicycle against a fence post, two houses back, and walked up through the dark.

My father's truck was parked in front.

The kitchen window glowed yellow.

I stopped beside the hydrangeas, close enough to look in, and I made myself breathe.

I had read the letter.

I knew what I would see.

Knowing did not help at all.

It was a small, warm kitchen with a table set for three.

A woman stood at the stove, stirring a pot.

She was in her forties, with pale hair pinned up and the same blue eyes as Roz, and she wore a blue apron.

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