Page 6 of Firefly Embers

It stood as a place of solace amid the ever-moving landscape of our lives. Whether we needed a place to talk, express our emotions, grieve, or just be, the cove was there to welcome us with open arms. The surrounding foliage made us feel like we were enveloped in a comfortable silence, and it was the perfect place to unwind.

I made the split-second decision to make the hike out there, needing to clear my head of the image of Wade’s hollow stare and the subsequent anger I was feeling toward his indifference.

I changed out of my bridesmaid dress, tossing it on the bed and throwing on a pair of black leggings and a threadbare Firefly Cove Police Department tee I had stolen from my dad years ago.

I snagged a hoodie off a hanger in the closet and tucked it under my arm. The cove was often chilly down at the water’s edge, and I planned on sitting out there until I couldn’t feel my feet—or my feelings.

I walked back through the house, stopping by the living room where I could see my dad’s snoring figure posted up in his big chair.

He had gone from a twenty-four-hour stint at the station straight to the wedding, and I knew he had to be exhausted. Instead of waking him up to let him know I was leaving, I grabbed the quilt that was draped over the back of the couch and covered him up softly, turning out the lamp beside him, and bathing the living room in darkness.

His peaceful frame and lack of a deep furrow in his brow caused my heart to constrict almost imperceptibly. Since my mom died, I hadn’t seen him relax much—if at all. Lately, he was either busting his ass down at the station or carting the twins and Benny to and from sporting events.

Thankfully, there were only four of us kids left at home, and I helped out where I could.

I was the oldest of ten, and my mom passed when I was thirteen. Complications during her pregnancy with my twin sisters had led to an emergency surgery post-delivery. The doctors weren’t able to save her, and she bled out on the operating table.

There were days I wished I had my mom to give me guidance, but Wade’s mom, Penny, had stepped in when she could after her passing.

She could never take the place of my own mother, but she was a wonderful stand-in when I needed some motherly advice. When we subsequently lost Penny, it left a gaping hole where a mother’s love should have been—for all of us.

On soft feet, I padded my way toward the door. I turned the knob slowly, hoping to avoid the creak of hinges that desperately needed to be oiled.

Managing to get outside without making much noise, I shut the door with a soft click and turned around, coming face-to-face with my fifteen-year-old twin sisters.

They had the audacity to turn around and attempt to walk in the other direction, feigning as if I hadn’t already seen them.

“Lucia y Sofia Cortez. Détente ahí mismo.” Lucía and Sofia Cortez. Stop right there.

“Shit,” Lucy mumbled under her breath, realizing they had been caught attempting to sneak back in.

“Shit is right. And you’re going to be in deep shit if you don’t get your asses inside and in bed. You’ve got school in the morning.” I placed my hands on my hips, doing my best to act as an authoritarian and control the situation.

Being the oldest often came with the responsibility of stepping in as judge and jury when the single parent wasn’t available. Not having Mom around for the entirety of the girls’ lives meant they respected me, their oldest sister, as the motherly figure in the household.

They turned, dejected, and hung their heads, padding their way to the house. When Sofia’s hand grabbed the doorknob, I spoke.

“Chicas.”

“Si, hermana?”

Their Spanish was choppy, as Dad hadn’t bothered with speaking it much after Mom passed. They could get by, but they weren’t fluent like the rest of us who grew up in a bilingual household, and they didn’t possess the fluidity of a native speaker.

“La próxima vez, usa la puerta trasera. Te amo.” Next time, use the back door. I love you.

It took them a second to decipher my rolling words, even though I’d done my best to slow them down. After they mentally translated, wicked grins spread across their faces, and they nodded, entering the house.

Once the door shut and I heard the lock flip, I made my way toward the clearing of trees that led to the cove, shaking my head.

I hadn’t been much different in my teenage years, but being on the receiving end of it, I now knew why Dad’s hair had gone grey at the temples.

Walking through the woods between the Daniels ranch and my father’s house always gave me a sense of peace and comfort.

It was eerily quiet, accented only by the sounds of the night, but the silence never felt oppressive. The chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves were the soundtrack to some of my best memories, and the sound washed over me like a soft hug.

Easing up to the water’s edge, I closed my eyes, feeling the cool bite of the wind on my skin.

Although it was chilly, I didn’t reach for my hoodie. I let the icy breeze seep into my flesh, covering my arms and legs in a fresh layer of goose bumps. A small breeze blew through the cove as if whispering promises of solace and peace.