A changed lock could not touch that woman.

A lawyer’s threat could not touch her.

Julian’s arrogance could not touch her.

She had buried her son on Monday.

What, after that, was she supposed to be afraid of?

I stood on my porch, and I was not afraid, because I had already been through the only thing worth being afraid of, and it had not killed me, and now I was simply, quietly, unstoppably determined to make right the one part of the wreckage that could still be made right.