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Boone whispers, “Typical dad, just trying to get a moment’s peace away from the wife and kid,” and Hattie smacks him on the arm.

Rowe pulls out her phone and snaps a few photos, and I mostly just try not to stare at Hattie.

She’s crouched low, moving a bit closer, getting a better look. There’s something so genuine and child-like in the way she watches, like she knows it’s special that we’re here, that our paths crossed with this majestic animal at this moment.

It’s a great reminder that we’re all here on this big, blue Earth for a short time and each little miracle should be noticed. I’m paying closer attention these days.

And it’s no coincidence that attention has me staring at her.

I don’t even realize I’m doing it, and I’m smiling, until I glance over and see Rowe’s gaze is now trained on me. When I look at her, she gets this goofy smile on her face that makes it pretty obvious she was watching me for more than a few seconds. And I was staring a lot longer than that.

I frown at her to leave me alone, and she keeps the same goofy smile and slowly shakes her head back and forth in a defiant “no.”

I go back to watching the moose, and Hattie shifts her position, her arm brushing against mine. I move closer to her just to see if it can make it happen again.

It does. Only this time, her arm stays pressed against mine, and I hold my breath, as if that will keep her from moving.

After about twenty minutes of moose-watching, the moose family lumbers on, off into the wilderness until they’re completely out of sight.

“That was amazing!” Hattie says. “Can you think of anything better than catching animals in their element?” She starts walking again.

Behind me, Rowe snort-laughs. It’s soft, but I hear it, and somehow, I think she knows that yes, I actually can think of something better. Like catching Hattie watching animals in their element.

The chatter picks back up and we press on up the hill, cresting it to reveal the lake, which is set right in the mountains like a postcard.

“I mean, this is pretty amazing too,” Boone says, tone reverent, which is exactly how we’re all feeling right now.

It’s almost too much beauty and scope and scale to take in all at once.

We drop our backpacks, and Hattie pulls out the sandwiches, tossing one to each of us, with a reminder that “Nothing in the world tastes as good as a PB&J on a hike in the mountains.”

We also eat trail mix and pretzels, then Rowe pulls out a big tin of cookies, which she held back from the farm stand when she stocked it this morning. We inhale them in a matter of seconds. We take off our shoes and socks and wade in, the water so cold it shocks my shins. Of course, we have to have a rock skipping contest, which Rowena wins, something her brothers are not happy about. Then we all pose for goofy group photos.

And, after a while, we all seem to go quiet at the same time, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Hattie walks over and sits down next to me on the log where we ate lunch. Her thigh is pressed against mine, and I don’t mind that one little bit. In my imagination, I’m taking her hand, holding it like it’s something precious, something I never want to let go of.

She draws in a slow breath. I do the same.

I can’t express enough how this place affects me. Every problem fades. Life slows. Colors brighten. Hearts fill. More proof that this is what’s been missing all these years.

We stay like that, both quiet. Lost in memories. Lost in the business of being alive. Then, she nudges me with her elbow and whispers, “How did you ever leave this place?”

I shake my head, and lean in a little closer. “I have no idea.”

“So, you and Hattie?”

Rowena is standing on the other side of the kitchen island, both of us snapping green beans. We were back from the hike for ten minutes when Melinda put out the call that we were all expected at the main house for meal prep because they’re expecting a lot of people for dinner tonight.

“We’re just friends,” I say, aware she’s paying closer attention to me than she is to the beans.

“Mmm-hmm,” she says, knowingly. “I don’t know what you think you’re selling, but I’m not buying.”

I frown. “I’m not selling anything. You can ask her yourself.”

“I did.”

My heart jumps like I’m a middle school girl with a crush. “What did she say?”