The Promise of Home. Kathryn Springer

had liked to say. God puts certain people in your path for a reason.

       After several years of soul searching, Dev no longer found those words difficult to believe. Even if he did spend long periods of time in the woods to reduce the risk of it happening.

       But why would God deposit a reminder of the life he’d walked away from—even worse, a strikingly pretty reminder—less than a hundred yards from his front door?

       There could only be one reason that Dev could think of.

       He was being punished for something.

       “There’s a bed-and-breakfast about two miles from here,” Dev said slowly. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable there.”

       And, to be honest, so would he. One of the reasons Dev had turned his late grandfather’s summer cabin into a permanent residence was because it provided the solitude he craved. If the owner of the cabin next door started renting it out on a regular basis, Dev would have to buy the place in order to prevent an influx of tourists from invading his privacy.

       “We were just there,” Tori piped up. “Abby has a dog named Mulligan, but he’s not as big as Violet.”

       “We had to stay there because of the fire but Grace—she’s our social worker—told us it was okay for us to come back home now,” her brother added.

       Dev’s attempt to make sense of the conversation was sabotaged by a single word. His gaze swung to Jenna.

       “What fire?”

       Jenna debated what—if anything—to tell Devlin McGuire.

       For a girl who transferred the details of her personal life to print for hundreds of devoted readers each week, she was curiously loathe to share any of them with him.

       Unfortunately, the children didn’t seem to share her reservations, forcing Jenna to question her initial impression of her niece and nephew. Maybe Logan and Tori weren’t quiet. Maybe they were simply quiet around her.

       She decided to give their neighbor the condensed version.

       “No one was hurt and it didn’t cause any major damage.” At least, not to the cabin itself. Jenna still wasn’t sure what lasting effects that night had had on her niece and nephew.

       “And you were here at the time?” Dev persisted.

       “Me and Logan were.” Tori looked down at the ground. “And our mom.”

       “She’s in the hospital,” Logan said.

       Dev’s eyebrows dipped together in a frown and Jenna knew what he was thinking. “Not because of the fire,” she said quickly. “She’s there…for other reasons.”

       “Aunt Jenna’s staying with us until Mom gets better.” He looked at her for confirmation.

       “That’s right.” Jenna masked her concern for Shelly, wishing she knew how long that would be.

       She’d called the treatment center several days ago and asked to speak with her sister, only to be informed that Shelly wasn’t accepting phone calls.

       Jenna hadn’t known where to turn for answers.

       At Kate Nichols’s suggestion, she had contacted Jake Sutton, the local chief of police who’d been at the scene the night of the fire. All he’d been able to discover was that Shelly had rented the cabin at the beginning of the summer and kept to herself.

       Strange as it seemed, especially given a small town’s propensity toward gossip, the police chief’s assessment had proven to be correct. Kate had made some inquiries, too, and none of her regular customers at the Grapevine Cafe knew anything about Shelly.

       Including, it seemed, her closest neighbor.

       “I’m sorry about your mom.”

       The compassion Jenna heard in Dev’s husky voice was a confusing contrast to the man’s rough exterior.

       But she didn’t need confusing. Not right now.

       “Mom’s been sick a long time,” Logan said, a shadow passing through his eyes.

       Tori bobbed her head in agreement. “She sleeps a lot.”

       Jenna released a careful breath. It was the first time the children had said anything that hinted at Shelly’s addiction.

       A part of her hadn’t wanted to believe it was true. The police hadn’t found any drugs on the premises, so Shelly hadn’t been taken into custody the night of the fire. But according to Grace Eversea, it had been the wake-up call Shelly needed to admit she had a problem and seek treatment.

       “We’re asking God to make her better,” Logan said, his expression earnest. “He can do that, can’t he, Aunt Jenna?”

       “Yes. He can.”

       It was Dev McGuire who broke the sudden silence. Because even if Jenna had been certain of the answer, she was sure the word would have gotten stuck inside the lump forming in her throat.

       For the children’s sake, she hoped he was right.

       “Is there anything I can do?” Dev was looking at her now, not the children. The genuine concern reflected in his eyes threatening to sever the fragile hold on her self-control.

       “I’m fine.” Jenna heard herself repeat the words that had served as an effective shield over the years.

       And even though Dev nodded, she had the unsettling feeling that he could see right through it.

       Watching him stride away, the dog loping along at his side, Jenna was struck with a sudden, inexplicable urge to ask him to come back. But she’d learned long ago not to ask anyone for help. Not her neighbors. Not her teachers or classmates.

       Not even God.

      Chapter Three

      “I’m afraid, Aunt Jenna.”

       Jenna felt a small hand slip into hers.

      I am too, Jenna wanted to say. She was afraid of the role she’d taken on. Afraid she would somehow do the children more harm than good. But more than that, she was afraid of what would happen to Logan and Tori if Shelly didn’t return within the next few days.

       “It’ll be all right.” Jenna said, a reminder to herself as well as her niece. She gave Tori’s hand a reassuring squeeze and worked the key into the rusty lock.

       Stepping into the cabin was like stepping into the sauna at the fitness center. The air pressed in from all sides, making it difficult to breathe.

       The first thing Jenna saw was the dark blister that marred the hardwood floor. According to the fire chief, Shelly had admitted that she’d fallen asleep on the couch with a cigarette in her hand. One of the embers had dropped between the cushions and started the cushions on fire.

       Bile rose in Jenna’s throat as the truth sank in.

       She could have lost all three of them.

       “I smell smoke.” Logan stopped in the doorway, a worried look on his face.

       “That’s because the windows are shut, sweetheart.” Crossing the room, Jenna stripped off the sheet tacked over the window and pushed it open. Immediately, a breeze from the lake began to filter into the room, caressing her face like a cool hand on a feverish brow.

       “Better?”

       Logan nodded and took a cautious step into the room.

       Jenna had a feeling that erasing the acrid scent of smoke from the air would be easier than erasing the memories of the night the children had been removed from their home.

       “I’m going to find Princess,” Tori said in a small voice. “She’s my favorite stuffed animal but I was afraid to ask the p’liceman if we could go back and get her. She might