Chapter FourCanyon Creek, Colorado
HARLIE
Sitting in my restored, matte red ‘78 Toyota FJ40 utility vehicle, I stared out at the place I’d grown up. But while rubbing the persistent ache behind my sternum with the heel of my hand, I wasn’t seeing the present spring night. No, my thoughts had been pulled into the past.
Only vague memories of a slender woman with thick and long dark hair have survived the passage of time. The day I turned five had been clear, not a cloud visible in the pale blue sky. With the sun shining brightly behind Momma her features were blurred—indistinguishable. She handed me a folded letter and told me to sit on the porch of the two-story Craftsman house and wait for my birthday surprise.
Wearing my pretty new dress and shiny black shoes, I waited at a house tha
