The quaint little cottage came into view as Sealy Masterson crested the hill. He slowed the sedan, letting his gaze travel over the familiar scene, tears burning in his eyes, an unwelcome ache settling in his chest. The petite structure with its gingerbread trim, traditional English gardens, and a pond out back looked like it belonged in a fairytale, especially nestled in a clearing surrounded by a splendid display of autumn trees. He half expected a group of dwarves to come marching out the front door, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.
And until that moment he never expected to see the place again.
Just looking at it stirred up a well of emotions.
Turn back, he thought, just turn around and never ever come back.
Instead, he eased his foot off the brake and let gravity slowly pull the
