The truth always finds a way out.”
But when I got to Ridgemont, nothing felt like home anymore.
The front of the house had been repainted an elegant gray.
My father’s rose bushes were gone.
A white SUV and an unfamiliar red sedan sat in the driveway.
Even the front door had been replaced with a sleek black one and a modern lock.
It was the same house.
Its soul was gone.
I knocked hard.
Not as a visitor.
As a son.
Vonetta answered in an emerald dress, hair perfectly done, pearl earrings, and looked at me with the mild annoyance of a woman finding a stain on her new carpet.
“You got out sooner than I expected,” she said.
“Where’s my father?”
She sighed.
