The cabin had a sagging porch step, a tin roof, and a stack of split oak near the back door.

But the windows were clean, the kitchen smelled of cedar, and a carefully tended herb garden grew beneath the south wall.

The place looked lived in, not abandoned.

Silas carried my overnight bag inside.

“There’s a bedroom upstairs.

I changed the sheets.

I’ll sleep in the study.”

I found a yellow quilt folded at the foot of the bed and a note beside the lamp: No decisions have to be made tonight.