The Promise of Home. Kathryn Springer

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      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 be hiding ’cause she got scared.”

       “Come on, Tori. I’ll help you look.” Logan stepped in and took his little sister by the hand. They disappeared through a doorway off the living room, giving Jenna a few moments to explore the rest of the cabin alone.

       Her heart sank as she surveyed the bleak interior.

       From what Jenna could see, Shelly had made no attempt to turn the place into a home. There were no pictures on the walls. No personal touches that told her anything about her sister’s life.

       Growing up, Shelly had been the outgoing one, unafraid of taking risks when it came to life—and love.

      And look where it got her, Jenna thought.

       The children’s last name was still Gardner, which led her to believe that Vance and her sister had never married. Where was he? Had he eventually grown tired of the responsibility of a family and walked out, the same way Jenna’s father had when she and Shelly were children?

       She and Shelly had both felt the sting of his rejection. But while her younger sister had dreamed of finding someone to take care of her, Jenna had learned to take care of herself.

       She’d never imagined those lessons would launch a popular magazine column, but that’s exactly what had happened. Jenna didn’t love the attention as much as she loved encouraging other women to become successful and independent.

       Something she hadn’t been able to do for her own sister.

       Jenna picked a towel off the floor and walked into the tiny kitchen. Unopened letters littered the table and the sink was filled with dirty dishes.

       She turned on the faucet and the pipes rattled before spitting out a stream of rusty water.

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