The world here felt quieter, but not gentle. A place that demanded effort and offered survival in exchange.
Cole pulled the wagon to a stop, climbed down, and came around to help Mara. Again, just enough contact to keep her steady.
Mara stepped onto the dirt and felt her knees want to buckle. Not from weakness, but from the shock of arriving somewhere she hadn’t chosen.
Cole carried her bag inside. Mara followed, palms sweating.
The house smelled of wood smoke and bacon fat, warm and lived-in. Not pretty. Not inviting in the way town parlors tried to be. But clean.
Cole led her down a narrow hallway and opened a back room.
A bed. A chair. A small window with a view of pines and the slope beyond.
“You’ll sleep here,” he said. “You can help with cooking and chores. Nothing heavy. Not until after the baby.”
Mara stared at him, waiting for the other shoe, the ugly demand, the price.
“And the… debt?” she asked.
