That evening, we walked over and knocked on the door. Caleb’s mother, Renee, answered. She looked kind, but tired in a way that told me she was carrying more than she let show.
I explained who we were, then gently asked the question Ethan had been holding all afternoon.
Renee gave a small, apologetic smile and stepped aside just enough for us to see the problem clearly.
There were four steep steps leading from the porch to the yard.