BooksBarbecue
Back Confess to Me
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

“That’s fairly standard for these parts. I’m not too worried about it.”

Trevor had two settings. I’m not worried about it or I’m not too worried about it.

“I know. I know you both went hunting, and you probably talked to him about gun safety. I’m OK with all that, but I need you to talk to him again. I don’t know who these kids are or their firearm rules.” And he’s acting rude. I wanted to say it, but didn’t want to come across as a tattle. “I’d like you to be home tomorrow. The kids need you,” I said slowly so he would get it. “I’ll sit with your mom.”

The other day I’d been reflecting on the changes Hunther was bringing about in each of us. Trevor acting more rugged. The kids seeming more independent and carefree. I thought I liked those changes. Now I wasn’t so sure.

And what of the changes in yourself?

35

35

TREVOR

I wasn’t going to be able to keep Heather away from my mom. I didn’t like the idea, but I’d have to suck it up.

I leaned back in Mom’s recliner and let my eyes fall shut. I was physically exhausted and mentally wrung out. I’d been able to keep my memories of Dawn buried for years, but it was getting more difficult to do. As I laid back in the chair, another memory clawed its way out with fingernails caked in dirt and blood.

Dawn had doused the log pyramid in lighter fluid.

“That’s way too much,” I said, laughing.

She touched her chin to her shoulder, gave me the smallest smile, lit a match, and tossed it in. The wood ignited in a puff of fire. She laughed, grabbed my arm, and jogged me back. The rocky shore near Horseshoe Bend shifted and slipped beneath my boots and I tripped. She caught me, preventing my fall, and laughed harder. She delighted at my minor misfortunes.

Foggy mist moved in patches over the water. The rapids whispered in trickles and hushes. Frogs croaked.

When she unzipped her backpack, I unrolled my sleeping bag, catching a gust of fabric softener. Mom could be counted on to root out anything filthy in the house or garage and clean it.

Dawn pushed two marshmallows on her stick and held it in the fire. “Do you like your marshmallows burnt?” she said, her voice tilting playfully.