Hours have passed when we finally emerge from the woods. Taylor and I are sweaty and dirty and gross. I can feel small twigs and leaves in my hair. The ledger is still clutched in my hand, but I can feel the pages warping in my damp hand. Somehow I’m not surprised when we find ourselves on the edge of grandpa’s property. It makes sense that we’d be guided here.
What does surprise me is finding grandpa, mom and a woman I don’t recognize sitting on the front porch. As soon as I see them, I throw the ledger into the underbrush. I pretend to trip, and use the opportunity to kick some dirt over the ledger. I don’t know why I have an instinct to hide it, but I do, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to answer any questions mom and grandpa may have about the ledger either.
Taylor helps me stand ba
