3. Kent #3
Hannah paused, her fingers gathering the wool of her shawl. She didn't move toward the kitchen, her focus locked on his face. "She's back in the valley, then."
"She is," Kent confirmed, watching his mother's expression closely.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, displaying the digital image of the water-damaged photograph he'd captured before Teddy left.
He held the screen toward her. "The sisters found this in the ruins of the stone cottage. "
Hannah crossed the room, her movements stiff but deliberate.
She took the phone from his hand, her gaze dropping to the glowing screen.
As she studied the faded print of herself standing beside Rosalind, her gaze went wide as she stared.
Her thumb brushed the glass, tracing the image of the toddler holding her skirt, before she looked back up.
Her amber eyes, so like his own, were bright with a sudden vigilance.
"Where exactly did they find it?" Hannah asked, her voice barely a whisper against the crackle of the woodstove.
"It was inside a metal box beneath a loose foundation stone," Kent answered, his tone remaining gentle.
He was reluctant to frighten her, but he knew the truth could no longer be kept in the shadows.
"Teddy said when she saw the photo she recognized you instantly.
She wanted to know why you were standing beside Rosalind. "
Hannah set the phone on the wooden table gently. "I spent more than forty years building a beautiful life in this valley. I changed our name when we first arrived, I worked until my fingers ached, and I kept my promises so we could remain safe."
"I know," Kent murmured, placing his hand gently over hers to offer a steady comfort. "And I didn't tell her anything. I kept my promise to you. I told her that the history belongs to you, and that I wouldn't speak of it without your consent."
His mother let out a soft breath, her shoulders losing some of their rigid tension. She looked at her son, a deep gratitude softening her proud features. "You've always been a loyal protector."
"But she won't let this drop," Kent warned, keeping his gaze level and sincere. "She's hurting, and she feels like an outsider in her childhood home. She's legally bound to manage the farm stand for the season, and she's going to keep looking for answers."
Hannah turned toward the stove, finally removing the whistling kettle from the heat.
She poured the hot water into a ceramic teapot, the scent of chamomile rose with the steam.
"The Marchetti girls have a right to manage their property, but they don't have a right to expose lives that were rebuilt in silence.
There are women who are still alive, still hiding, and a careless question could destroy everything we saved. "
"I understand," Kent agreed, keeping his tone soft but firm. "I told her that. But I also promised her that I would ask you if you're willing to speak with them. I told her I would show you the print, but that I wouldn't force you to open a door you've kept closed."
He remained silent for a long moment, her fingers tapping against the edge of the ceramic teapot. She looked toward the window, where the dark woods of the valley pressed against the glass. The silence of the cottage felt heavy, carrying the memory of a network operating in the dark for decades.
"I'm not ready to lay everything bare," Hannah said, her voice carrying a blunt finality as she turned back to face Kent. "But I won't run from them. If they come to my porch, I’ll tell them what I can. But I won't discuss the others, and I won't explain how the arrangement worked."
"That’s all I can ask," Kent replied, a welcome relief easing the tight band around his chest. He reached for his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. "I’ll tell Teddy that you're willing to see them."
"You care about her," his mother noted, her sharp eyes studying his face with an observant look. "You've cared about her since you were at school."
"I do. Very much," Kent admitted, his face warming slightly but his tone remaining steady. "And I don't want to lose her trust before we've even had a chance to build something."
"Then be honest with her about your own feelings," Hannah advised, her expression softening with an encouraging smile. "But protect the secrets that aren't yours to give away."
Kent nodded, wrapping his arms around his mother in a brief embrace before he crossed the room toward the exit. He turned the heavy brass locks, the deadbolt sliding back with a solid click, and moved out onto the porch.
As he returned down the dark path toward his own property, Kent looked back at the glowing window of the cottage.
His mother's silhouette was visible against the yellow light, her head bowed as she returned to her sewing.
The night was cool and still, but his heart filled with a steadfast determination.
He'd opened the first path toward transparency, but he knew the hardest boundaries were still ahead of them, and his future with Teddy remained unsure.