6. Kent #3
Kent took the rectangular block of oak and carefully aligned its edges with the opening in the pillar.
He slid the wooden plug back into its snug channel, the oak sliding home with a dry, solid rasp that sealed the rusted recipe tin back into the heart of the timber.
The concealment was seamless unless you looked extremely closely, leaving no trace of the secrets hidden within the support post.
A deep peacefulness settled between them, the mid-morning heat beginning to warm the dusty air of the barn.
Teddy moved toward an empty wooden crate near the doorway, her shoulders slightly stiff from her labor under as she turned her back to the open field outside.
She sat down, hands clasped in her lap as she stared at the floorboards.
Her dark eyes were bright with a sudden suspicion, her gaze shifting to him as he set a tool bag on a neighboring barrel.
"You're suddenly very willing to help me," Teddy said, as she watched him. "Yesterday, you refused to say anything at all. Why are you suddenly helping me build a record when you won't even discuss your own past?"
Kent took a slow, deep breath, his knuckles resting against the weathered rim of the barrel.
Since childhood, he’d understood the fragile nature of their safety.
He remembered the cold dread of his childhood, the way they'd bolted their doors and watched the driveway whenever a strange car passed the gate.
He'd learned to live in the shadows, to carry a heavy burden of silence because he believed it'd been the only way to preserve their existence.
He'd been taught that survival meant keeping the past locked in a dark room where no one could find it, and he'd practiced that vigilant reserve until it'd become second nature.
But looking at Teddy now, seeing the raw frustration tensing her jaw, he knew his silence was being interpreted as a rejection rather than a necessity.
He didn't want to be another locked door in her life, another barrier standing between her and the answers she so desperately required to heal.
"I won't break the promises I made to preserve my mother’s privacy," Kent explained, keeping his voice gentle but unwavering. "But helping you discover what your mother left behind isn't a betrayal of that trust. It's my way of offering you support."
Teddy's chin rose. "But why? You don't have to carry any of this. It's the legacy left to us, my problem to manage. Why do you even want to help me?"
"Because you'd been the only person who didn't treat me like an outsider at school when I first arrived in this valley," Kent said, his tone carrying a genuine warmth that seemed to fill the dusty space.
He looked down at his hands, his pulse quickening as he summoned a memory.
"When we first settled on the neighboring property, I'd been a strange, guarded classmate who didn't understand the rules here.
The other classmates whispered about my sudden arrival.
I sat alone near the metal lockers every morning.
But you always said a friendly hello. And one day, when I was feeling at my lowest, you crossed the room and placed a simple drafting compass and set square on my desk out of kindness.
You gave me hope when I'd been completely lost."
Kent paused, his gaze fixed on her face as he let the memory breathe.
He could still see the young girl she'd been, fierce, silent, and determined.
She'd been a child carrying the weight of the farm labor on her shoulders while never asking for a single drop of warmth in return.
He'd recognized that same quiet ache in her back then, a reflection of his own solitary vigilance, and it'd bound his heart to hers in a silent devotion that had lasted for three decades.
Teddy froze, her breath catching as she absorbed the memory. Her dark eyes went wide, her defenses softening as she looked at him.
"I barely remember that," Teddy murmured. "I mean, I remember you, I just don’t really remember that moment. I know that I always tried to do what was right. I’m not sure how much of that was kindness and how much was the good girl wanting to prove to my mother that I was deserving of love and attention," she told him honestly.
"It was kindness to me," Kent countered, wanting her to understand the gravity of the gesture and what it meant to him.
He leaned forward slightly. "Whether you had intended to or not, you saw me when I'd been feeling completely invisible. And when someone sees you like that, even once, it matters forever. I've spent years watching you from a distance, watching you carry the heaviest loads alone, and I realized you and I aren’t too different in that regard. So, to answer your question about why I’m helping, I won't let you stand alone anymore. "
The silence in the barn carried an emotional weight that made Kent's heart rate rise. Teddy stared at him, her eyes softening at whatever she saw in his. Kent reached out and his fingers brushed hers. His touch carried the promise of a future he planned to build together with her, even if Teddy wasn’t ready to hear it just yet.