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She kept talking. “Before last fall, I had never been to Kentucky. Before last fall, I didn’t know Jubilee even existed. But from the moment I first saw Pope Mountain, it felt like home. And I have no concept of whathomereally means other than where my things are stored and where I eat and sleep, and yet that’s the only word that fit what I was feeling.”
Sean opened his arms. She walked into them, savoring the feeling of being enveloped.
“Something’s happening to me here, Sean, and I think you’re part of it. Maybe all of it. I heard the words about the original part of your house coming out of my mouth, but I don’t know where they came from. I have no reason to know that,” Amalie said.
Sean shook his head. “Aunt Ella says the mountain has magic. It holds ancient secrets and holds fast to the people who honor it. Maybe it’s just talking to you, honey, and you’re the only one who can hear it.”
She sighed. “Maybe, and maybe it’s just me. Maybe that accident did something to my brain.”
“You should do a little online research and read about people who develop certain gifts after near-death experiences. Maybe you didn’t just survive, but came back with new abilities. You wouldn’t be the first,” he said.
Amalie’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that. My head is always full of numbers.”
“And my head is always full of possibilities. I’m always looking for the back door into a problem to solve it. Ithink we pair well, like biscuits and gravy,” and then he winked.
She grinned. “Biscuits and gravy. That’s probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He shrugged. “I do what I can.”
She laughed.
And for Sean, that sound was a high like no other.
“Not to change the subject, but I feel a chill in the house. I think it’s time to put another log on the fire. I’m not all brainiac. Come watch me being all strong and stuff.”
Amalie grinned, and when he reached for her hand, she clasped it.
Back in the kitchen, Shirley heard the laughter and smiled. It was good to have joy in this house, and a few minutes later, they were back with her.
“I talked briefly with B.J. today. I missed his text. He says he’s coming home for Easter,” Shirley said.
“That’s great, Mom! Now we’ll have two great chefs in the kitchen.”
“Has B.J. always wanted to be a chef?” Amalie asked.
“If he did, he never said anything about it growing up,” Shirley said. “All he did was eat. He was never full.”
“And the last one to leave the table. Leftovers were nonexistent in our house,” Sean said.
Amalie giggled. “I was always a little hungry, too, but mostly because we weren’t allowed second helpings. Too many foster kids to feed, I guess. One of my foster mothers made the best chicken and dumplings. It’s still my favorite comfort food, but I’m no good at making thedumplings. They’re either raw on the inside or falling apart in the broth.”
“We’ll have to make them together one day. I’ll show you a secret to that,” Shirley said.
“Will you really?” Amalie asked. “I would love that.”
“I’d love it, too,” Sean said. “Could I be the official taste tester?”
Shirley smirked. “You’re the only one left at home, for which I am daily grateful, but it also means you’re the designated hitter for everything now. So, yes, you’re the taste tester. But tonight, the chicken is fried, not stewed, and I just took the last piece out of the skillet.”
“What can I do to help?” Sean asked.
“Get the plates and flatware out for Amalie. She can set the table and you can mash potatoes. I’m going to finish up the sides.”
Amalie quickly did her part, then got out of the way. She walked to the kitchen window to look out at the land beyond, and saw pasture, and outbuildings, and trees in the distance that went on forever, being blanketed by a fresh fall of snow. Big flakes, already beginning to coat the ground.
“It’s snowing!” she cried, and darted outside before they could react.
They both walked to the window to see where she’d gone. She was standing in the yard with her arms out, head tilted back, letting the snow fall on her face.
