Chapter 1 - The Sound on the Porch
The screwdriver slipped from Peter Calder’s hand and clattered across the porch.
He had been fixing the loose hinge on his front door for almost an hour, which was ridiculous because the job should have taken ten minutes.
But grief had a way of turning simple things into unfinished things.
That afternoon, his mind kept drifting to Aaron.
His little brother.
The one who used to sit on that same porch with a bottle of root beer, laughing like trouble was something that only happened to other families.
Aaron had been gone three years.
A heart attack at thirty-five.
One normal morning. One phone call. One funeral home. One suit Aaron would have hated.
He left behind two children.
Drew, then three.
Lily, barely more than a baby.
And a wife named Reena, who stood beside the casket holding both children and promised everyone she would keep them safe.
Peter had tried to stay close.
He called.
He stopped by.
He brought birthday gifts, groceries, little sneakers, books, anything.
Reena always had an excuse.
“They’re sleeping.”
“They’re sick.”
“They get too upset when you visit.”
“You remind them too much of their father.”
Peter hated it.
But he backed off.
He told himself grief made people strange.
Then he heard a scraping sound at the bottom of the porch steps.
Slow.
Weak.
Wrong.
May you like
He turned.
And the whole world dropped out from under him.
