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And my sweet baby, Ryland. He won’t remember me. He won’t know how much I loved him. How I sat in the chair by the fire each night as he grew inside me, and I sang to him. Promise me you’ll let him know how loved he was. Keep me alive after I’ve gone. For all my babies.
Remember my love and the song I wrote for you on our wedding night.
All those words are true.
I will be with you. I will love you. Always.
Joelle
P.S. Remember how mad you were when you found your expensive bottle of scotch missing and you blamed your brother for it? It was me. Well, me and Cynthia Henhawk. It was before the church barbecue. The one where I puked into Pastor Allen’s lap. I don’t regret it. He was a bit of an asshole.
P.P.S. Not Pastor Allen, of course. Your brother.
Cal sat there,staring into the shadows that stuck in the corners of the attic until his vision blurred. After a while, he got to his feet, stiff from sitting for so long. He stretched out his arms and rolled his neck. Then he placed the letters back in the tin box and took it with him.
It was the second week of January. The house was quiet, the kitchen empty. A roast was in the oven, the potatoes already peeled and on the stove ready to boil, along with carrots and green beans. Rosie had prepared things before she’d left for the day. Bent was with Dal looking over some of their horses, and Nora had gone with them. Ryland was in his room doing what seventeen-year-old boys did on a Sunday afternoon, while Scarlett had gone back to New York to pack up her place. She’d be back in a week or so. And Vivian, well, she’d turn up eventually. She usually did.
He turned as Millie walked into the kitchen and smiled. “Where you been?”
“Saying at least twenty Hail Marys to the toilet. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me all the way up there.”
She was pale, and he pulled her against his chest. “I hate that you feel like this.” They’d found out she was pregnant only a week ago.
“It’ll pass. Give me a month or two.”
“You sure you’ll be okay traveling to Australia for the rescheduled shows?”
She snuggled against him. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He was over the moon she was joining him on tour, and happier yet that they were coming back to Montana when it was done. He’d already engaged the services of an architect, and when the spring thaw was done, they’d start building their dream home, in a clearing not far from the jumping pond.
Cal breathed her in, this woman he loved, and held for a long time, until she gently disengaged herself from his grasp. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve got something to do.”
She watched him, those eyes of hers missing nothing. “Are you okay?”
Cal nodded. “I will be.”
She smiled, and his heart turned over. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
He dropped a kiss onto her mouth, savoring the warmth of her, and then pulled away. He scooped up the tin box on his way out of the house and, shoulders hunched against the cold, got into his truck and pointed it north.
It took longer than normal to get to the road that led to the Founder’s Cabin. It was clear of snow, which meant his dad had been out, and he had no issue getting up the hill. He parked and hopped out of the truck, distracted by his thoughts, which was why he didn’t see Penny until he heard a sharp bark.
The wolf was coming up the path from the paddock, and just behind her was his father. Bundled up for the cold, Manley wore a sheepskin coat and matching hat. He didn’t stop when he spied Cal, but dropped his hand to the scruff on the wolf’s neck, assuring the animal all was well. Cal had only seen his father a few times since he’d been back, Christmas being one of them. He’d kept his distance, and, to his father’s credit, so had he.
“Come in for a coffee,” Manley said, not waiting for an answer.
Cal clutched the tin under his arm and followed him inside. They didn’t speak, these two men who circled each other warily. Cal sat down, aware of the wolf watching him from the rug by the fireplace, and accepted a piping cup of java. Black. The way he liked it.
After a while, Manley asked gruffly, “You want some food?”
“I’m good.”
“I know you didn’t come all this way to talk about the weather. What’s this about?” His father looked tired.
“I found this.” Cal handed over the tin. Manley took it, and for the longest time, he ran his fingers over the faded markings with his name on it. He sat back and, after a few seconds, gently took off the lid. He stared at the pack of letters as if seeing a ghost.
