Then my family found out.
My mother came first.
She arrived in a silver SUV.
I was repairing the spring box when I heard tires on the old access road.
I looked up.
Elvira stepped out.
She was seventy-three.
Her hair had gone completely white.
For years, I had imagined our reunion.
None of my imagined versions looked like this.
She stared at me.
Then at Patch.
Then at the cave.
“So it’s true.”
No hello.
No hug.
“What is?”
“You found Dad’s land.”
I stood.
“How did you hear?”
“People talk.”
Of course.
Cedar Valley.
My mother looked around.
“He told me he sold this.”
“He didn’t.”
She crossed her arms.
“I know that now.”
“You sold our house.”
Her expression hardened.
“It was my house.”
“It was home.”
“You were gone.”
“I was in prison.”
“Exactly.”
The word hit like a slap.
I took a breath.
