“It was a quilt your great-grandma made after Jensen’s twin passed away when he was only two. She wanted to keep a memory of him always.”
She holds it tightly against her chest as she turns to me. “My grandpa was a twin?”
I nod, thrilled she’s happy. “He was. Jensen and Josiah. Josiah got sick as a toddler, and he didn’t make it.”
“That’s so sad,” she says. “Where’d you find the quilt?”
“Pop got a list of the items from your grandfather’s estate sale from the lawyer, and Mom got the quilt from Mrs. Avery from down the way. Mom and I worked to get the things that we thought would hold the most sentimental value for you. And many were happy to give them to us.”
“There’s more?”
Smiling, I stand and hold out my hand for her. We walk out to the garage, and I flip on the light. She gapes at the wooden rocking horse I simply put a bow on. “Your great-grandpa built this for your dad when he was born.”
“You’re kidding,” she says, bending down to run her hand along it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Come on,” I say, leading her back into the house, giddy to show her everything else. “That one was impossible to wrap.”
“I believe that,” she says, and I love the lightness in her voice.
I show her three more bags in the extra bedroom. “Okay, I got kind of tired of wrappin’, so I took the easy way out.”
Laughing, Brynlee shakes her head. “You didn’t have to wrap them at all. Well, maybe the china. A box is probably best. Can I pick any one?”
“Whichever one speaks to you.”
She looks like, well, a kid on Christmas, and my breath hitches as I picture her sitting next to me as we watch our kids open presents like she is now. It punches me in the gut because we were headed in that direction before I messed everything up, but I know I’ll do whatever it takes to make it a reality.
“A recipe box?” Brynlee looks up at me before opening it. “Are these my grandma’s?”
“Kathleen’s best friend’s daughter had them. It wasn’t part of the estate sale, but when I reached out to get stories about Kathleen, she gave them to me. She’s over in Silver Spring, and she would love to talk to you about your grandma.”
Her fingers flip through the cards, and she swallows before looking up at me again. “My handwriting looks like hers.”
“It does.”
“I don’t know how that works because I barely remember her,” she says and opens another bag. “More blankets?”
“Baby blankets. Kathleen made them. I figured you might want them if you decide to have kids one day. Or seventeen.”
I expect her to laugh, but she just smiles. Hearing her tell me she wants kids with me one day would be the best, but she just moves to open the third bag instead.
“Is this a jewelry box?”
“Your great-grandpa made it for Kathleen for her twelfth birthday. He died just before her party in a farmin’ accident.”
Her hands slide over the intricate wood carvings on it. “This is beautiful.”
“You like them? The presents?”
“These are the greatest gifts anyone has ever given me. Thank you, Rhett. I don’t know how to explain how much these mean to me.”
I smile at her. “I think I know.”
Sighing, she stands and faces me. “I was worried when you said you had presents for me. That was always Kevin’s go-to apology. Lavish gifts I doubt he even picked out himself, but these are special. I can’t wait to read the scrapbook and learn about my family. You gave me something I never thought I’d get.”
“You can read it right now if you want to.”
She shakes her head. “I’m really tired. I haven’t slept well, and the plane ride and drive kind of did me in.”
