Chapter Eight
Ella
With the wind gusting and leaves skittering across the road and the moon rising above the mountains ahead, I followed Caleb‘s truck. I knew Willow Brook by heart. Fireweed Lane was a few miles beyond downtown with houses scattered amongst the trees and small lakes in the area.
I was curious to see where Caleb lived. Once upon a time when we were silly teenagers, young and in love, we teased about him building a house for us. He was the kind of man who did just about everything. His father was an engineer and had always been in the middle of some sort of project—from simple construction to elaborate projects. Caleb had been raised to do just about everything. It was fair to say most men in Alaska were the quintessential, rugged handymen. Because when you lived on the e
