Page 115 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Silence; she didn’t have a snarky comment for once. Meme and Jax were still discussing something. But Carson went completely still. I hadn’t said anything unusual. At least, I didn’t think I had. I’d always wanted kids. A family had always been the big dream.

Sunday mornings that were too loud. Toys left where they shouldn’t be. Kids running through a yard large enough that nobody had to tell them to keep the noise down. I wanted the kind of house people came back to after they grew up. The kind my parents had built without me realizing how much work it took.

“Nothing crazy,” I added. “Just somewhere that feels permanent.”

Carson looked down at her plate. “Sounds nice.”

Before I could ask what she wanted, Meme changed the subject. I was beginning to suspect the woman noticed, and heard, more than she let on.

Lunch eventually ended because Jax reminded me we still had several hours of fence work ahead of us and he wanted to leave before sunset. We carried our plates to the sink despite Meme’s protests while Carson disappeared toward the mudroom. I followed a minute later, intending to grab my boots.

A photograph near the doorway stopped me.

I’d missed it earlier.

Carson sat on the hood of the old John Deere tractor we’d uncovered yesterday. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. An orange Marigold Ranch bandanna tied around her neck. Mud covered one knee of her jeans. James stood beside her with one arm thrown around her shoulders and a grin beneath his gray mustache. Both of them looked filthy. Both looked happy.

Carson came up beside me, her eyes followed mine to the picture. For once, she didn’t ask why I was staring.

“Festival?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze remained on the photograph. I studied the younger version of her.

Same freckles.

Same eyes.

Same stubborn tilt of her chin.

But there was an ease there I hadn’t seen often in the woman standing beside me.

“You look exactly the same.”

Carson gave me a look. “No, I don’t.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Pretty close.”

“I was seventeen.”

“Hair’s longer now.” I looked at the photograph again, and she rolled her eyes. “You looked happy.”

The teasing disappeared. For a moment, I wondered if I’d gone too far. Carson didn’t get angry. Didn’t shut down completely. She simply looked at the picture.

“I was.”

The answer came softly.

Outside, Jax shouted my name. I ignored him for another few seconds.

Carson looked toward the screen door over her shoulder. “You should go before he starts dismantling the fence out of spite.”

“He would.” I sighed.

“I know.”

I stepped onto the porch and shoved my feet into my boots. James’s old pair remained beside mine. For some reason, before I walked away, I looked at them again. Then back through the screen. Carson was still standing beneath the photograph.

I thought about the videos.