She had not dragged nine half-starved children across three states to hear ghost stories.
“We came because he offered work and a home,” she said firmly. “My children need food tonight. If Mr. Keene’s alive, we’ll speak to him. If he isn’t, we’ll find another plan.”
Martha stared at her as if she were watching someone walk willingly toward a cliff.
“You don’t understand,” she said.
“No,” Evelyn replied. “I understand very well. Hunger doesn’t wait for fear.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch across the entire frozen town.
Finally, Martha sighed and pointed toward the north ridge.
“You’ll see the road past the old sawmill,” she said. “Follow it until the trees thin out. His house sits alone.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said.
But Martha grabbed her arm before she could turn away.
