“Thank you,” she said, reaching for her wallet, but the man waved her off.
“No charge for directions.But if you see Wendell, tell him Floyd says hello and to bring more of those heirloom tomatoes next time he’s in town.”
Jenna just nodded, the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.Jake stepped in smoothly, asking about coffee and paying for two large cups while Jenna retreated to collect herself.
Outside, the mountain air was sharp in her lungs as she leaned against the car, waiting for Jake.She was close—so close to answers that had eluded her for half her life.The mysterious woman living in seclusion with an elderly farmer...could it really be Piper?And if it was, why had she never tried to come home?
Jake emerged from the store, balancing two steaming cups.“We’re almost there,” he said as he gave one to Jenna.
“I’m afraid, Jake.What if it’s her, but she doesn’t want to be found?What if it’s not her, and this is just another dead end?”
“Then we keep looking,” he replied without hesitation.“Together.Like always.”
The simplicity of his answer steadied her.Jenna took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the driver’s door.
“Let’s go find out,” she said, sliding behind the wheel.
The car wound higher into the foothills, each curve revealing vistas of undulating green peaks.Jenna barely noticed the beauty around her, her focus narrowed to the road ahead.Jake sat beside her in watchful silence, understanding that words had no place in the anticipation that filled the vehicle.The coffee between them had gone cold, forgotten.
“There,” Jake said suddenly, pointing ahead.“The old mill.”
The structure loomed beside the road, its massive wooden water wheel frozen mid-rotation, a monument to a bygone era.Jenna turned right as the attendant had instructed, then the road narrowed and trees crowded closer.
“County Route 17,” Jake read from a weathered sign as they turned again.“Two and a half miles to the crossroads.”
Jenna nodded, her throat too tight for speech.The miles seemed to stretch.Then, without warning, the trees parted and the crossroads appeared before them.
She eased the car to a stop, her breath catching.There it was, exactly as she had seen it in her dream—two roads intersecting beneath a clear blue sky, each direction marked by weathered but legible signs.One pointed west toward “Piney Ridge – 3 miles,” another east toward “Greenfield – 7 miles.”The third aimed north, reading simply “County Route 17.”
“That’s it,” she whispered.
Jake squeezed her shoulder gently.“Look,” he said, gesturing through the windshield.
Jenna followed his gaze upward.Atop a nearby hill stood a small, rustic house—more cabin than proper home—its wooden exterior weathered silver by sun and seasons.Her vision hadn’t been a fantasy.It had been a map, leading her here.
“Let’s go,” she said, putting the car in motion again before doubt could take root.
A narrow dirt drive branched off to the right just past the crossroads, climbing the hill in a series of switchbacks.The vegetation grew less manicured as they ascended, wildflowers and tall grasses reclaiming the edges of the path.
The cabin revealed itself gradually as they rounded the final bend.It was humble but well-maintained, with a small covered porch.Beside it stood a weather-beaten barn, its doors hanging slightly open.An ancient pickup truck rested nearby, dust coating its faded blue paint.Beyond the structures, a vegetable garden spread in neat rows, still producing late summer bounty.
Jenna parked beside the truck, killing the engine.The sudden silence was broken only by the distant call of a bird.
“Ready?”Jake asked softly.
She nodded, though ready was the last thing she felt.They stepped out into the mountain air, crisp and clean with the scent of pine and earth.
Jenna’s legs felt insubstantial as she approached the cabin’s front door, each step requiring conscious effort.Jake positioned himself just behind her, a solid presence at her back.
The porch boards creaked beneath their weight.Jenna knocked, the sound sharp in the stillness.No response.She tried again, louder this time, calling out, “Hello?Anyone home?”
The silence stretched, unbroken.Jenna glanced at Jake, who nodded toward the door.She reached for the handle and found it unlocked.The door swung inward with a gentle push.
“Sheriff’s Department,” Jenna called out, stepping cautiously into the dimly lit interior.“Is anyone here?”
The front room was sparsely furnished but tidy—a worn sofa, a rocking chair, a bookshelf lined with well-thumbed volumes.A woodstove stood cold in one corner.
A soft sound drew her attention toward a hallway leading deeper into the cabin.She followed it, Jake close behind.
