The crease in Kianna’s forehead deepened. Why would a stranger offer help? Besides, even though her sister and brother were little, they could have carried something, lessening their mother’s burden. But as it was, the kids ran around behind them on the porch, already teasing each other—which often led to a fight.
Devon bowed his head at Kianna. “Hello.”
Kianna stood her ground. “Hi.” She gestured to the wooden bench to her right. “You can leave everything there. Thank you.”
“Kianna!” Her mother lost the smile. “I would like to at least offer a glass of water to this young gentleman before he leaves.” She took a step, but when Kianna didn’t move, she tsked. “Kianna, please.”
Kianna stared at the stranger. The first thing she noticed was his face. He had a serious face with sharp angles and thick eyebrows. His nose was straight, and his lips a light rose color. His dark eyes stared at her, and she felt as if she were diving into endless ebony pools. His dark hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, a few strands loose, framing his face. His clothes were black cloth and fit him well, even though he was tall, taller than her father had been, and wider too. He was slim, but his shoulders were broad.
Kianna shook her head, ashamed for having noticed more of him than she should have. She forced her thoughts to the matter at hand: a fine young man didn’t simply wander around at the country offering to help women in need.
She wanted him gone.
“I’ll bring some water,” she barked.
Her mother sighed. “Don’t be silly.” She pushed past Kianna, stunning her daughter with her mother brazenness; Kianna stumbled back.
The stranger reached forward and grabbed her wrist before she fell on her butt. “Careful.” His dark eyes fixed on hers.
Heat crept through her cheeks and she jerked her arm free.
“Come,” her mother called. Without ceremony, the stranger walked into their home. “Please, put those here.” She gestured to a side table in the foyer.
The stranger deposited the bags on the table, then he turned and sniffed the air. “I smell cinnamon.”
The heat in her face increased. “I’m baking something.” She rushed to the kitchen in the back of the house. She pulled out the cake from the stove. She baked it for her mother and siblings, not some stranger, but it couldn’t stay longer in the oven or it would burn.
Kianna returned to the dining room and set the cake in the center of the dining table.
Her mother’s eyes widened. “You made this?”
“Yes,” Kianna said.
Her mother smiled. “It looks amazing.” She looked at the stranger. “Devon, I’m about to make supper. Why don’t you stay and eat with us? You can have a slice of cake as well.”
The stranger glanced at Kianna. She was sure he could see her flaming cheeks, her incredulous eyes, but he didn’t seem to care. He smiled at her mother. “Thank you for the offer, Ophelia. I’ll stay, but only if I can help in the meantime.”
Kianna stared at them shocked. Ophelia? He was already on a first-name basis with her mother?
“Well, now that you mention it …”
Her mother asked the stranger to take some equipment to the barn behind the house, where the smaller farming tools were stored. She mentioned something about a broken wagon and he told her he would look into it.
He offered a bow from his waist, and marched out of the house through the back door. From the window, Kianna watched the kids, who raced around the yard at the back of the house. The stranger made them laugh before heading to the barn. When she was sure he was out of earshot, she whirled on her mother.
“What were you thinking?" Kianna demanded. "Bringing a stranger into our house?”
Her mother picked up a pot and filled it with water. “Why are you being so mean? He seems like a gentleman.”
“But why? Nobody just helps for no reason.”
Her mother frowned at her. “Is that your view of the world? Oh, my dear, you need to believe there’s good out there.”
“What if he’s a criminal?”
“Kianna!” Her mother raised her voice and Kianna flinched. Her mother rarely yelled. “Stop this nonsense right now. Please, help me with dinner and be polite to Devon.” She handed a knife to Kianna. “Now, cut the carrots, please.”
Kianna took the knife, but as she sliced the carrots, her mind didn’t stop. A young man alone on the road … where was he going? Why would he offer to help and discard his plans to help her mother? She peeked out the window. Why was he now fixing the wagon? She saw nothing out of the ordinary about him.
He knelt on the ground beside the barn, tools spread around him, working on a broken wagon.
It didn’t feel like a coincidence.
But then … who was this man, and what did he want with her family?
Present
Kenna
I stood in the foyer and glanced to the living room. I had started peeling the old, stained paint from the walls this morning, but I was so freaking sick of working on the house for the last three days. We woke up early and went until late in the night, only stopping for meals or to discuss our plans for the future.
One of the main topics Lia and I discussed was her finding a job. We couldn’t live off the little cash we still had, and besides trying to get a job as a waitress somewhere, there wasn’t much I could do, not without a high school diploma. But Lia had finished high school and even started college before her life was stolen from her. She had now applied for every job position available in town—which weren’t many.
I had started looking at waitressing jobs, but Lia had threatened to take my recently acquired smartphone from me if I didn’t focus on studying.
Right now, I wanted to focus on the house, because there was no way I could live in a house falling apart.
If we stayed here for long.
Which I honestly doubted.
My mood soured in two seconds flat. Deciding I needed a break, I threw the scraper on the plastic covering the floor and marched to the kitchen to grab a snack. I opened the fridge and the cabinets, and per usual, nothing really appealed to me. I craved something sweet and soft … I could always bake a cake.
I had never cooked, but I was sure I could follow some videos on YouTube and bake a cake. It couldn’t be that hard. When Lia got back home from buying more supplies for our home remodel, she would be impressed.
I clicked on the YouTube app on my phone and—
The doorbell rang.
My insides froze, and the phone slipped from my hand, landing hard on the wooden floor.
“No, no, no,” I muttered, both as a request not to have broken my brand-new phone, and for me to be mistaken about the doorbell. It had been my imagination.
The doorbell rang again.
Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind. It was Slater and his goons. They had found us, and now our brief peace and quiet would only serve as a torment our own memories inflicted upon us and—
A knock echoed through the door.
I frowned.
If it was Slater and his goons, they wouldn’t ring the bell or knock on the door. They would break down the door, without warning, even if it was the middle of the day and the neighbors could see us.