42. Aftershocks

Nadia

The cracking of the Mystery of the Hauntings by the Lake didn't end with a whimper.

It exploded in a variety of bangs.

The peopleof Misted Pines were now dab hands at the media descending when a high-profile case sprung up in their illusory, quiet and charming (but still quaint) small town.

Though, Kimmy told me, even with me being who I was and a minor player in all of this, it didn't garner near as much as the Ray Andrews and Crystal Killer cases. Maybe because Delphine Larue was a bigger name than mine (she'd been involved in the Ray Andrews nightmare). Maybe because people were experiencing Misted Pines fatigue. Maybe because, even if the outing of Roosevelt, Lincoln and Sarah Whitaker's unconventional way of life could be salacious, in the end, the cases were old, the population was growing more and more cynical with decades of the constant barrage of a news cycle…

And fortunately, much bigger celebrities were embroiled in a bitter, ugly divorce that was hogging the national limelight and lighting TikTok up with a salvo of new content.

Even so, what happened that night at the stables wasn't going to fade easy in a starry, mountain night.

Not even close.

It, and what happened after it, was going to cause loads more drama, and trauma, and get way more interesting.

It begins here…

Unsurprisingly,Jefferson Whitaker immediately started pointing a finger right at Sharon Swindell.

At first, she didn't speak a word.

But Jeff had a lot to say.

The first twist was, he claimed he did not shoot his uncle and mother.

No.

He shared in the statement he made to the police that they weren't shot at all.

Instead, Sharon had drugged them (something which would be easy for her to do, since she stocked Roosevelt's larder, doing this also when Sarah was around), then she dragged them to the stables, and it was she who lit the fire in order for them to expire in it.

She'd then covered Jefferson in blood and gave him the shotgun, knowing the fire would bring Lincoln running.

Jeff admitted to being there and doing what she ordered, saying this was both because she'd convinced him of terrible things about his family and he was terrified of her.

What she ordered was for him to let the horses out and make sure they ran away.

Other than that, he had nothing to do with it.

Sadly, the investigation of the situation was woefully mishandled. They had no traces of the blood she allegedly drenched him with to test. The scene had not been properly examined. And although the bodies had been examined, they were burned so badly, the coroner couldn't report if they'd sustained gunshot wounds or had been drugged or had died prior to being burned to ash.

More metal detectors had been dispatched, and the area was swept, but they found no evidence of spent shells or shot.

That said, fifteen years had transpired, so this could have been washed away by rain or melting snow or scattered by animals.

Or Jeff had had plenty of time, not to mention he'd revisited the area frequently—and he'd put no small amount of effort into successfully keeping it vacant of anyone who could see him doing it—in order to pick up after himself.

A jury would have to decide.

The next twist was,even if they didn't have this evidence, they did have the shotgun.

And when Harry pulled it from the evidence locker, he found almost immediately that Lincoln had turned over a weapon with the double barrel fully loaded.

This definitely gave credence to Jefferson's claims that the gun had never been fired, and Sharon had made a mistake in first, not firing it, or second, at least not unloading it before she handed it to Jeff. Because who would reload a weapon after they used it, supposedly successfully, and before they turned it over to the police as the apparent murder weapon?

And it showed even more how shoddy the policework had been around the case, because all you had to do was cock the barrel open to see this, and then a lot of questions would, and should have been asked and answered.

Maybe saving a man's life.

Sharon remained silent,and in the end, Harry was forced to charge Jeff solely with criminal trespass and criminal malice.

Jeff pled guilty to these, admitting that yes, he and Sharon had spent years doing a number of things to keep people away from that lake and looking for the "lost manuscript" (the fake existence of it something Jeff's father had shared with Tru, but not with Jeff, though perhaps it was understandable he hadn't because he thought Jeff was fragile about Sharon).

Though, Jefferson agreed to this in a deal he'd made where he would also testify against Sharon.

Sharon took it to trial,and Maribeth (obviously) had to take time off work to come to MP so she could go with me every day to watch it unfold.

And this was something my bestie did.

At first,Sharon, who was rather attractive in a tough-nut sort of way, seemed calm and docile.

I could see that.

The case was old. They had a confession from a man who was now dead, so he couldn't speak. Without a murmur of dissent, someone had served seven years of his life for the crime. And the investigation had been bungled, so they didn't even have circumstantial evidence against her, barring the shotgun (though, that was pretty damning).

On top of that, she could ride the wave of a jury who might find the way of life of the Whitakers distasteful.

However, she wasn't counting on the Whitaker family having very good friends, quite a number of them, all of them very keen to speak on behalf of the dearly departed—in fact, they'd been waiting years to have the opportunity—and at least two children who loved their parents unconditionally.

As testimony unfolded about what a happy family they were, how deeply the parents loved their children, and yes, each other, along with how creepy folks thought Sharon was, not to mention Lincoln being clear in his concerns about Sharon—and not in a hearsay way, some of them had text messages they'd saved all these years for this eventuality—things took a dramatic turn.

That turn was cataclysmic for Sharon after Truman and Kennedy took the stand.

Truman was forthright, believable, and when his emotion came, it was openly genuine and utterly gutting.

Kennedy, on the other hand, was a mess. But that wasn't surprising. It too was clearly genuine, and you'd have to be dead for your heart not to go out to her at the family she loved being torn apart in that manner.

Jefferson was supposed to be the prosecution's ace in the hole. However, it wouldn't turn out that way.

Sure, he painted a picture of emotional terrorism that was diabolical and chilling. He testified as well to their happy family life, and even shared guilt that he let the things she said penetrate.

But he gave off the vibe of a thirty-year-old punk-ass kid who looked back at appalling actions that were the work of psychological control with more of an air of being pissed he had to deal with this situation, than taking any responsibility for his part in it.

The only reason this didn't work in Sharon's favor was that she was seeing where this was all leading. And instead of keeping a brave face, or entering into plea negotiations with the prosecution, she suddenly started acting out in what could only be an attempt to set up an appeal on the basis of mental incapacity.

And she did this, terribly unwisely, starting with Truman and Kennedy, both sympathetic witnesses.

She interrupted them, shouting things like, "You know your father loved me!" She would dissolve into loud wails. And once, she melted off her chair in a dead faint.

The judge cautioned her several times, and when she banged repeatedly on the defense table and chanted, "Liar, liar, liar," at one point during Jefferson's testimony, the judge paused proceedings for the afternoon to get her attorney to calm her down. He did this warning, if it happened again, she'd be charged with contempt of court.

No more outbursts happened after that, but she made faces, made a show of scribbling on a legal pad obsessively, and often whispered loudly in her (very beleaguered, I should say) lawyer's ear.

The defense called both Sarah's parents and sister to the stand, as well as Lincoln and Roosevelt's parents.

Finally, the defense had the opportunity to put to the jury how bizarre and "despicable" the Whitaker's way of life was and give the jury something to think on regarding Lincoln's alleged jealousy.

It was a fatal mistake.

First, the jury had already heard about how this was untrue from plenty of others, all of whom were much more earnest and credible witnesses who knew and loved the family.

Second, the prosecution managed to get the litigation about the estate entered into evidence, and as such, when he had his shot at them, he made mincemeat of all five of them (particularly Sarah's parents, who eventually came off as nothing short of religious zealots).

Sharon was the final one to take the stand in her own defense, and it was another mistake because her lawyer couldn't hide how dead set he was against it, not to mention she was again histrionic. She tried to convince them she wasn't there that night. Instead, a fourteen-year-old boy, with no motive to do so, killed his mom and uncle, and talked his father into confessing to the crime.

This last sounded absurd, and the way she related it made it seem even more so.

And why she deviated from the Lincoln Did It Theory, which was firmly established by Lincoln himself, and instead went after Jeff, was anyone's guess. Although it did make her look like she had it out for Jeff, which was precisely what she should have avoided.

While she was testifying, it was openly apparent no one in that courtroom believed a word she said, not the spectators, and worse for her, not the jury.

Jefferson had been a punk-ass, but he didn't seem like it was that bad he'd kill two members of his family, especially when he had zero motive to do so. And the only times there seemed honest remorse and discomfort were when he had to directly discuss anything about the murders or his dad.

Upon copious discussion, and Riggs supplying us with cocktails during it, Maribeth and I decided the true Sharon came out in her behavior and testimony, but she wasn't crazy. You couldn't be if you did the things you did in a calculated manner.

The prosecution summed up shrewdly, painting a horrific picture, shying away from the obsessive fan stuff and the part Sharon crafted that Jefferson played, and leaning into a woman spurned who then took her revenge on an, albeit alternative, but exceptionally happy family.

The defense, going in with all the cards, in the end, was forced to try to guide the jury into believing the word of a single woman, the defendant, who had acted bizarrely in the extreme during the trial, when she simply said she wasn't there. But she had no alibi for the time it happened, though she did have multiple people who testified she had means, access and motive.

Sharon might be able to lean on her behavior in court in future appeals, but it backfired in the present.

The jury was out for two and a half hours, and Maribeth and I thought that length of time mostly had to do with Jefferson being an obviously spoiled brat.

They came back with a guilty verdict.

She was given two life sentences, to be served concurrently, with the possibility of parole.

This meant she could be out in twenty years.

And Maribeth and I figured the apparent leniency of that sentence was because of Jeff too.

As an aside,Maribeth told me it was the best vacation she'd ever had in her life.

Things went far worsefor Sharon Swindell in Seattle, however.

I didn't attend that hearing, except for one day, when Riggs was forced to go with me. But Harry did, and he gave Riggs and me the full skinny of what we missed.

This detective,uneasy for years about this case (and on top of that being a big thriller reader, and Roosevelt Lincoln was one of his many faves), went after it like a mad dog.

Therefore, he uncovered a bartender at Lincoln's hotel who had witnessed Lincoln and Sharon arguing at the bar the evening Lincoln supposedly committed suicide. The bartender remembered it because he recognized Lincoln after the big brouhaha of his arrest and confession, and because they were having said argument, which he described as extremely heated on Sharon's part, but Lincoln appeared quite calm.

Though, he had to admit he didn't see Sharon slip anything in Lincoln's drink. However, he hadn't been watching them the whole time because he was at work and had a job to do.

Further damning was the investigator tracked down a hotel employee who saw Sharon come out of the elevator later that night. She remembered this because Sharon seemed mildly disheveled, which was odd, because it was a very nice hotel, so it caught her attention.

It kept her attention when, halfway across the lobby, Sharon started laughing rather maniacally—at nothing—and that stuck in the employee's brain, because she thought it was super weird.

The hotel had no record of Sharon being a guest, ever. And Sharon could not produce evidence that she was there to visit someone she knew. So she had no reason to use the elevators at all, as the bar was on the lobby level.

She just said she wasn't there, but was in Misted Pines, home alone with her dogs, which wasn't a stellar alibi, especially when two people who didn't know her, and had no motive to lie, pointed her out in the courtroom with no hesitation.

But the smoking gun was that a friend of Sharon's had come forward to admit she'd procured a bottle of arsenic at Sharon's request. Sharon had told her she'd been having issues with mice and rats getting in her house, and she needed it to poison them.

This, even though rat poison, which was not arsenic, was easy to find.

This friend further admitted that she wondered for years, not only because Sharon could have gotten her hands on what she needed herself, but especially after Lincoln died in that manner, and she knew Sharon had "a serious thing against Lincoln."

She just couldn't believe her friend would do something like that. And Sharon, at the time, had been significantly distressed and was behaving in an agitated manner, because Lincoln had been released. Therefore, her friend felt Sharon might not have the wherewithal to follow through with an easy errand. Not to mention, she'd been complaining about having trouble with rodents for weeks.

Though, what she could do was identify from pictures the bottle discovered at the scene as being the one she procured.

Truman, Kennedy and Jefferson all testified at that trial as well, reiterating their alibis and the nature of their visits with Lincoln prior to his death. Jefferson adding that his dad had taken him aside and shared that he was going to work with him to help him deal psychologically with what had happened at the lake.

They explained Lincoln seemed sad, and tired, but not morose, and he definitely had plans for his and their family's future.

And they were all firm in relating that he did not seem to be a man who was about to take his own life, and that they had all retained open communication with him and visited him as often as they could in prison. Though all of this, he'd never given indication this was at hand.

At this juncture, it was almost cruel how deep a pile Sharon was under (though, not cruel to her, because she was a snake), when the prosecution produced Kennedy's ex-boyfriend, who Kennedy was living with at the time.

He testified that he'd been home the night of Lincoln's demise, when Jefferson had arrived to have dinner with his sister, because they were going to talk about Lincoln's visit and the possibility of returning to the lake with him. The boyfriend had eaten dinner with them, hearing this discussion, and testifying that both of them intended to make arrangements to go back to the lake to spend time reconnecting with Lincoln. He left to have drinks with his buddies, because one of them had been promoted, but when he got back a little over an hour later, Jefferson was still there.

And where they lived, neither Kennedy nor Jefferson could have gotten to the hotel, forced arsenic down Lincoln's throat, and gotten home in time.

Adding insult to injury for Sharon, the prosecutors then called on a woman from Misted Pines who shared she'd not only been retained by Lincoln, but she had also gone to both the big house and the cabin to clean them, as well as stock the big house with food. And the day of his death, Lincoln had arranged payment for her efforts.

He requested this of her because, Lincoln told her, he intended to arrive the next day, and he'd shared, due to his big grocery order, the children would be coming that very weekend.

Not incidentally, she, too, had made it clear she'd been astounded to learn he'd committed suicide. So astounded, she reported her concerns to the local sheriff, but when nothing came of it, she just figured she was wrong.

Information and photographs from the hotel and the autopsy were presented, showing that the bruising around Lincoln's jaw was consistent with not only the size of the pads of Sharon's fingers, but the spread of her hand and where those pads would rest on a man's jaw (this was rebutted, rather well, because it was weak, but the damage had been done).

And an expert testified to what arsenic poisoning would do to a body, and the peaceful manner in which Lincoln had been arranged was not at all indicative of how a body would be found after dying from taking that poison (this was rebutted, poorly, and possibly hurt an already crumbling defense).

And to the vehement objections of said defense, the prosecution was able to enter into evidence Sharon's activities at the lake when Riggs caught her.

This evidence was provided by Riggs and Bubbles, and even Bubbles, who for some reason dressed all in black—black suit, shirt and tie—and thus it made him look like a member of the mob or an unimaginatively dressed bouncer, delivered damning testimony. Because by that time, Sharon would have no reason ever to be at that lake, definitely not swinging around a metal detector at three in the morning.

Truman surmised in his testimony, and the prosecution bore down on it in their summation, that Sharon had arrived at the hotel to demand to know the whereabouts of the last manuscript, and Lincoln may have taunted her with it, but he didn't give that information to her even after she drugged him, so she killed him out of obsessive-fan fury.

Sharon had different attorneys during this trial, and she'd either learned to keep her mouth shut and her dramatics under wraps, or her attorney had her on a tight leash, because she sat stoic throughout the proceedings.

It didn't matter.

This time, it took only thirty minutes of deliberation for the jury to reach their guilty verdict.

For the murder of Lincoln Whitaker, Sharon Swindell was sentenced to life, without the possibility of parole.

I had to admit,I had my doubts about Jefferson.

I believed he was manipulated by Sharon, but it was hard to wrap my head around the idea that Lincoln would be so distraught, he wouldn't question Sharon's narrative that night. Of course, the situation was heartbreaking, and on the surface, dire. But to serve seven years in prison when Jefferson hadn't even shot them? And Jefferson not only not telling his father that, but waiting a further eight years and some change to tell anyone he didn't do such a thing?

I didn't know.

And I'd never really know.

But the next twist pushed me to lean the other way.

This was that,from prison, Sharon wrote an identical letter to Dave and Brenda, and Riggs, begging, if we found that manuscript, we'd let her read it.

And by now, it had been testified about frequently in her presence that such a thing didn't exist.

So, frankly, that was totally unhinged.

Riggs, Dave and Brenda gave the letters to Harry.

And I decided it was likely Jefferson Whitaker was a spoiled brat, but he was also controlled by, and perhaps even terrified of, Sharon Swindell.

At least he'd been when he was fourteen.

And Roosevelt, Sarah and Lincoln paid the price.

But in the end, for Jeff, it was all about getting his hands on that contract and the manuscript.

Which truly was a great "fuck you" to Sharon that lasted a long time, was still messing with her head in a way that it seemed it would for the rest of her life, and eventually, it brought her to justice.

But it also ultimately led, through no fault of his own, to Lincoln's demise.

This could meanthat there was a possibility that Roosevelt and Sarah had been alive when they'd been taken to the stables that night and had died in the fire.

To that, all I would allow myself to think was that they had to be completely unconscious and didn't know what was happening to them.

The alternative didn't bear contemplating.

But at least, in the end, they were together.

There was a crucial link missing, and he'd go through hell and have to live seven years without either of them.

But he lived those years doing his utmost to take care of the thing they all held most dear.

Their family.

The three Whitakerchildren banded together after all of this and beat back their challengers on all the claims on the estate.

A judge awarded what was left of it to the children, as well as anything that came from it in future royalties, not to mention, they now held the rights to sell for television or movies.

The estate was distributed equally between all three.

The Whitakers tried to make amends to their grandchildren after that, as did their Aunt Mary.

Word reached us, they were having none of it.

Word also reached us, they'd been approached for the rights by several producers.

It was said, the youngest two now looked to Truman to guide the way, and his guidance was that their family had had enough.

So far, they'd declined all offers.

I heard Sarah's folks were interviewed on some religious channel about what to do if your child was taken into the devil's thrall.

I never saw it.

And I had no interest in ever seeing it.

The properties beingin Sarah's names alone, properties that, regardless that he'd supposedly killed her, Lincoln inherited on her death (and no one, not even Sarah's parents, had contested that in seven years, for unknown reasons), obviously, were bundled in the estate.

This was one of the outstanding questions no one had answered, and I had to know.

Therefore, Riggs mentioned the change to the trust to Harry, Harry had asked Tru about it, and seeing as he'd only been around fifteen at the time, he told Harry he had no idea why his parents did that.

So that would remain a mystery.

Sadly,the bungling of the Whitaker murders turned the spotlight on Harry and the sheriff's office.

Fortunately, Harry already knew this would happen, and at a town council meeting that was growing contentious, Megan, the president of the council (a ballbuster, no-nonsense blonde who was a good friend of Delphine's, and would become one of mine too) let Harry have her microphone.

With only Rus standing behind him, Harry explained how the department was already deep into an audit, they'd identified five cases that bore more scrutiny, and was continuing its search.

No, he would not say which cases they were at this juncture.

But yes, if it was discovered they required further investigation, an announcement would be made, but, Harry warned, they couldn't comment much on active investigations.

After a lot of gavel pounding from Megan, this announcement eventually calmed the citizenry and left them with new mysteries to chew on.

Which, I'd noted, was exactly as Misted Pines liked it.

Only Murders in the Building, indeed.

In the meantime,Evan Pugh and his parents came to visit Riggs and me.

My heart went out to the guy. He clearly felt terrible about what he'd done at the cabin.

Riggs had the same reaction, I knew, when he asked them to stay for a slice of his mom's leftover lemon cake.

They accepted.

On the other hand,and in another twist, we were all at the Double D for dinner one night when I met Casey Grimes.

Bryce was with him.

Casey immediately got in Riggs's face with his threats about a civil suit.

I could see Riggs wasn't taking this well, didn't like his woman's and son's dinners interrupted with this guy's shit, and he was about to slide out of the booth, and I was trying to figure out how to handle that, when Bryce approached his dad, tugged hard on his sleeve and snapped, "God, Dad, why do you always have to be such a jerk?"

I feared Casey's head would explode when this came from his son, and I didn't want it in my onion-less patty melt.

But before it could, Bryce looked at me.

"I was a dick. It was uncool. Everyone at school thinks I'm a jackoff. But that's not the only reason I'm sorry." He then mumbled, "Sucks you lost your mom."

With that, he shuffled out of the diner, leaving his father fuming.

He didn't fume in our presence for long.

He took off after his son.

So that was that.

And no case was pending.

On the Mondayafter all our troubles were over, Angelica signed over custody of Ledger and Viggo to Riggs and Storm.

She then carried through with her every-other-weekend visits with them for precisely a month before she moved to Spokane.

This might have to do with the fact she'd become a pariah in Misted Pines. But call me cynical, I thought it had more to do with her being outed, so there wasn't a man in the entire county who would touch her.

She called Ledger on occasion and came to MP a few times to see him and his brother, but mostly, she was as she had been when she was around.

Absent.

Ledger honestly didn't seem to mind. He seemed relieved. And since Riggs and Storm made sure the brothers had time together (and Viggo was a doll, a total Storm-mini-me, like Ledger was with his dad, including his stormy-colored eyes), it seemed all good for Ledger.

But we were keeping an eye.

My theoryabout Angelica proved true when, not four months in Spokane, she phoned Ledger and gave him the "happy" news he was going to have a little baby brother or sister.

Not only that, she was getting married to a real estate agent future daddy who was apparently a big deal in that city.

So, I guessed, the third time was a charm for Angelica.

Having broken the seal,I spent a lot of time with my journals, either on the front or back porches of the cabin, on the pier, in the hammock, in the cabin, or out in the workshop with Riggs.

There was a lot to put down about him and Ledger, Angelica, Storm and Viggo, the Whitaker tragedy, my life in Misted Pines.

But eventually, I got around to pouring into it my thoughts and emotions about what happened to Mom, as well as how I felt about her.

And the man who sired me.

This wasn't easy.

Sometimes, I'd have to put my journal aside and race down the trail to find Riggs, throw myself in his arms, and burst into tears, whereupon he'd hold me and murmur to me and be there until I was all right.

Sometimes, I'd just have to put it aside and cross the workshop to him.

So, yes.

Misted Pines, in the end, gave me the space to face all of that, and even though I'd never come to terms with it, it also gave me Riggs, Ledger, Gail and a big, wide family.

So I could live with it.

If not peacefully, the life I was living that it was a part of was happy.

Riggs gothis commission done just under the wire, working at it sometimes until dinner, then going back to it after.

My heart melted when he told me why he was going to install the first arbor on his property.

He did that at the trailhead to the cabin from the house.

He then called Harry and asked him to contact Truman and Kennedy in order to ascertain what their mom's favorite color rose was.

They told him it was peach.

So he planted two rose bushes of that color at the base of each side of the arbor, where they would grow and intertwine with the beauty Riggs had crafted out of iron.

It was perfect to denote the beginning of the path Sarah would take to lead her to Roosevelt, and the end of it when she went to Lincoln.

And the route Riggs had taken to guide him to me.

It was not loston me that much (though not all) of Riggs's genius was tied up in his art.

Simply put, what he crafted in that workshop was extraordinary.

He was far from stupid, obviously, so he knew that too.

He probably also knew that it could be shown in galleries and might earn him something more than money.

But he was like Roosevelt. He loved creating it, but beyond that, he had little interest.

Though, he was also like Lincoln, because he made sure, with everything he made, he got paid.

As for Riggs,Ledger, Gia and me, I put my foot down about things steadying, so now we had the time to take, in order to ease Ledger into his dad's new relationship.

Throughout the summer, and into early autumn, Gia and I spent three to four nights a week at the cabin, giving Riggs and his boy father-and-son time.

This ended the night we threw a big party to celebrate his crew getting back from a job (Riggs held true to his word, promoted Easton, and during the first job, drove the two hours to oversee things four times, but the ones after, how often he would check in could be as little as once), as well as Riggs finishing the massive deck he'd built on the lakeside of the house.

The deck was pure Riggs, dark wood and logs with some stout branches and interesting wrought iron. It fit the house perfectly, and it had an amazing view.

You could also see the cabin from it.

He'd managed to do that and everything else because Harry, Cade, Jess, Jace, Rus, Jaeger, Easton and Storm often came out to help.

And yes, Bubbles.

That man tried hard with me, I just wasn't there yet.

It didn't stop him trying.

And it was annoying, because just that fact alone made him a loveable guy.

Maybe I'd get there one day, but Riggs was already moving on, so I wasn't a complete bitch to Bubbles (though, Riggs thought it was hilarious how I held on to a grudge, and I supposed that was good, considering other men would find that terrifying).

This party was louder and far rowdier than the first I attended, but I knew nearly everyone, so even though it really wasn't my scene, and I much preferred the quieter variety, I had fun.

I definitely got tipsy, and Riggs had more than a few, so we left everyone else outside so we could hit his bed and get busy.

We got so busy, the ruckus outside had grown quiet by the time I was fucked out, but before I passed out, Riggs slid something on my left ring finger.

He said not a word when he did it.

I pried open my eyes and stared at the humongous simple solitaire diamond protruding obnoxiously (not complaining…at all) from a slim platinum band.

I then looked at him and asked, "Seriously?"

He grinned.

I kissed him as an unspoken answer to his unspoken question.

And passed out mid-kiss.

After a chat with Ledger,I moved into the big house the next day.

Obviously,Misted Pines was my future.

And when the word hit the ears of Trevor's parents, they called me out of the blue and asked if they could come for a visit. I knew it would hurt them, but I also knew it might help them do what I was trying to do after I lost mom.

Learn to live with a terrible loss, and see that life carried on.

They came and met Riggs, who they obviously liked, and Ledger, who cut them to the quick, but they loved.

Then they left.

And after that, I never got more than birthday or Christmas cards from them.

That hurt.

But I loved them, and I got it.

So I gave it to them.

A monthafter I moved in officially with Riggs and Ledger, we closed on buying the cabin.

Dave drove a hard bargain, and we paid four times what he bought it for four years previously.

I didn't care.

I had my she shed.

And my family owned our whole lake.