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“It does. I don’t know what kind of shape it’s in, though.”
“We could get our own horses and a carriage. Have you talked to Emmett about it?”
“He’s not happy about it. But he said if it’s what I want, he’ll support it.”
“Good. That’s good.” Emmett usually said no about ten times before he’d consider a new idea. I had a feeling Ireland had a hand in him being more open to the idea.
“Get your date. You don’t want Mom to get out the photo albums.”
“She wouldn’t,” I said as panic coursed through me.
“Oh, she would. I wouldn’t leave them alone too long with her.”
“Thanks, man,” I said as I took the porch steps two at a time. It wasn’t that I was afraid of what Sarah would see in the pictures. But I wasn’t ready to revisit that time. When Dad was alive, we thought he’d grow old with Mom. Every time I thought about it, my chest felt tight.
I opened the door, and the smell of cookies greeted me. “It smells amazing in here,” I said, as I followed the sound of voices into the living room. “Seriously?” I asked when I saw the three of them sitting on the couch with a photo album open between them.
Mom shrugged. “Addy asked to see them.”
I propped a shoulder against the doorway. “I’m sure that was after you mentioned their existence.”
“Details. Details.” She patted the couch next to her. “Come sit with us.”
I reluctantly sat next to Mom, and Sarah gifted me with a sweet smile. “You were so adorable.”
I groaned when I saw her finger on the picture of me in the tub with Emmett. “Why that picture?”
Addy leaned over Sarah to say, “You were so chunky. Look at those rolls.”
Mom smiled affectionately as she patted my bicep. “My boys love to eat. That hasn’t changed. They just work out more now.”
“Seriously, Mom. Why are we doing this tonight?” I let exasperation seep into my tone, but I was enjoying Sarah’s interest.
Mom smiled apologetically. “Sarah wanted to see what you boys looked like, and I couldn’t resist.”
I couldn’t deny my mom when she was feeling nostalgic. She loved to remember better times, when Dad was alive and we were still little. I wasn’t sure why because we had to be hellions. But maybe there was a short time when we were sweet and listened to the rules.
She flipped through the pictures, going from preschool graduations to various holiday celebrations and then to our athletic years.
“You played baseball?” Addy asked.
“And football. But Mom didn’t take many pictures of that. She was too worried we’d get hurt.” I reiterated what she always told us when we asked why there weren’t more photographs of us playing football.
“I don’t know why your father let you play. I didn’t like it,” Mom said.
“He wanted us to get the energy out, and football was the best sport for that. We used to wrestle all the time.”
“You used to make elaborate forts out of the couch cushions, which always ended in wrestling on the ground, fighting, and someone getting hurt.”
“That was only until we toughened up.” We learned not to cry out for Mom or complain that someone hurt us. If we did, we’d have to stop whatever we were doing. That meant that when we did get hurt, it was usually bad. Broken arms and deep cuts. But it never stopped us. We started building forts with sticks in the woods instead of cushions in the house.
“I can’t tell you how many pillows and cushions they destroyed. I threatened to get rid of the couches altogether and make them sit on the floor.”
Addy’s eyes were wide. “You were allowed to jump on the couch?”
“We weren’t supposed to, but we weren’t great listeners.” Catching Sarah’s wide eyes, I rushed to add, “But you should listen to your mom.”
When we finished the album with our high school graduations, Sarah said, “You were so handsome, even in high school. I bet the girls loved you and your brothers.”
