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“Miss you, Daddy. I miss you so much,” I weep, Beau whining at my feet.
I sniff back the tears and look around at the room. It’s the largest room of the house, with bay windows and sliding glass doors that open up on the top balcony. It’s always been beautiful, but now it is just a room for a ghost. A room that my father wouldn’t want to sit here and collect dust. Along with his brand new truck that sits under a tarp in the garage. He never got to drive it. In fact, he bought it a week before he died, hoping to sell the one that he wrecked.
I wipe my face and turn out of the bedroom with the urn tucked to my chest, calling for Beau behind me. My dad doesn’t deserve to be locked in a bedroom. He’d want to be in the mountains, spread open in the great wilderness that he always considered home.
I run down the stairs and spot Claire in the kitchen still, stirring a pot of yummy smelling stew.
“Where’s Dad’s keys to the new truck?” I ask and she stops and raises her eyebrows.
“By the front door. Why? Are you going to return that European piece of plastic finally?” She jokes, but she’s right. I need to return that thing ASAP. It’s shit on these roads.
“I’m going up the mountain before dinner. Can you watch Beau while I’m gone?” I ask and her eyes snap to the urn huddled against my chest, softening and filling with understanding before she slowly nods her head.
“Of course, baby. Take all the time you need and call me if you need anything,” she says before walking to me and pulling me in for a hug.
“Come on, Beau. You can help me taste test this beef,” she says, clicking her tongue and walking back to the stove, Beau trotting alongside her with his tongue out.
I smile and walk to the door, grabbing my dad’s keys and heading to the garage on the side of the house.
I open the door and set the urn on the ground, pulling back the dusty tarp and revealing my dad’s brand new, 2020 pearl white Chevy. I’m not a truck girl, obviously I prefer the European pieces of plastic, but that will do me no good out here. The rims are shiny and new, custom like most of the truck. My dad always wanted a new car, and it breaks my heart that he never got to drive this. I pick up the urn and hop in the truck, starting it and listening to the clean engine that now roars to life.
“I’ll take care of it for you, Dad. Promise,” I say to the urn before setting it in the passenger seat and back out of the garage and driveway.
I make my way to the mountain just a few miles down the road, smiling as I watch the sunset beyond the pastures, feeling more at peace than I ever thought possible since my dad’s been gone.
17
I arriveat the bottom of the mountain and hop out of the truck, my dad’s urn hugged close to me as I hike my way up. I dressed in my boots and a yellow sundress thank God, the heat of Cannon Falls still sweltering even as I climbed part of the mountain.
I look over below me, the small town of Cannon Falls nestled quietly in the pastures and hills. It’s a breathtaking sight, one my father loved. He would take me to this exact spot when I would visit, telling me stories of the town and the land that we could see. I know for a fact that this is where he would want his remains, where he would want part of his soul to flourish and live on.
I’m not a religious person, but I do believe in the spirit and one’s soul. I do believe that we should be put back into the earth in order to live on. Give back to what once gave us life.
I sigh and pop the lid of the urn, gathering a handful of ashes in my palm before bringing them out and staring at them.
“I’m gonna miss you more than you know, Dad,” I say, tears falling calmly down my face.
“I don’t know where to go, or what to do, but I know that whatever I choose, you’ll cheer me on like always. I just hope that I can make you proud. It’s all I ever wanted,” I say, sniffing back the tears before stretching my hand out over the mountain, opening my fist and letting the ashes fall down and into the air.
I do it with the rest of the remains, watching them scatter and blow across the mountain with a smile on my face. I place the urn between some rocks and stand back to watch the sun finally set, this time with my dad in the wind and not next to me with an arm wrapped around my shoulder. Strangely, I still feel him. I hear a bird in the distance and before I know it, a white dove flies past me and into the sky. I smile broadly, hoping it was my dad soaring off into the land that he loved so much.
I turn and walk back down the mountain, my boots slapping in the dirt as I make my way back to the truck. When I approach it, I see someone leaning against it, cigarette smoke billowing out in the wind before him. Not just any cigarette smoke, but Hunter’s smoke.
He stands with one arm resting against the truck, smashing out his cigarette beneath his black boot and tipping his hat at me.
“Evening, Ali,” he says casually, and all the peace that I just felt evaporates as rage takes its place.
He always knows the right time to show up and ruin everything.
“I’m not speaking to you,” I say as I brush past him, yanking the door of the truck open and trying to hop in, but stopping when he rounds the corner and grabs my arm.
“Ali, wait. I just want to talk to you, please hear me out,” he says in a gravelly voice, but I turn my head from him and try my best to ignore him.
My anger, however, has other plans.
“There’s nothing in this world that you could possibly interest me with. I told you several times, my dad’s land is not up for grabs. I don’t want you anywhere near it and most importantly, I don’t want you anywhere nearme,” I say, trying hard to sound strong but failing miserably.
His rough hand moves from my wrist and travels slowly up my arm, stopping at my shoulder as he pulls me to face him. I look up from under my lashes and am stunned into silence.
