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Shielding my eyes, I looked up to the hill above the ridge line and smiled. Wes and I had plans to move into the new house starting next week, and I couldn’t be more excited. Killian had the entire place cleaned, and when Wes and I went back three days later, there wasn’t even a trace that someone had been killed there days prior. It gave me a chance to explore the whole house properly.
Wes had built us a three-story dream house. Each floor was magnificent with small touches, like the colors he picked out, and the style of the handles and faucets. They were all things I’d dreamed of having one day, back when I’d lay in bed with my Pinterest app open, visualizing a life with Wes.
The property sat on five acres, and while the house sat at the top of the butte, the yard expanding behind it was flat, with verdant foliage and tall trees. It would be the perfect place to raise a family. While I still had no ring on my finger, it wasn’t needed. Forever was stamped on my heart, etched into eternity. As long as I drew breath, Wes would be mine.
The sound of tires crunching drew my gaze behind me to the older pickup truck rolling to a stop.
I tugged my sweater tighter as I closed the gap and watched as Sasha rounded the vehicle to help my dad out of the passenger side. His face was pale today, and his frame looked gaunt. Pain hit me in the sternum as I realized I’d have to go through losing him all over again. We had no idea how long he had. The doctors had said it could be six months or three years, but people had beaten those odds before with pancreatic cancer and lived longer. Just depended on the body.
My dad smiled as he saw me approach, and his arm came around me in a tight hug.
We’d decided we needed a redo. A fresh start, where he saw me, and we reconnected, without club politics, or using me as bait to draw out Dirk. So, we settled on having breakfast in the cabin every Saturday morning. Eventually, once we moved into the new house and Wes approved, we’d do Sunday dinner up there. I had plans to even include Silas, since my dad had informed us that he was marrying Sasha in the town chapel next week.
The two of them had plans to move into a house about an hour outside of Pyle, on a ranch where Sasha could grow her garden and Dad could live out the rest of his life, married and happy.
With his arm around me, we ventured for the front door, but my dad stopped short.
“You ever wonder about those glass jars we used to bury out here?” His gaze spread slowly over the property behind the cabin.
I nodded, following his gaze.
“I tried to find them when I stayed here at first…I thought I’d remember when we were last out here.”
He started for the side of the house, making a humming sound.
“I’m going to start breakfast, okay?” Sasha called before opening the door to the cabin.
Dad and I walked together as he bent low under one of the smaller trees. With the toe of his boot, he dug at the softer soil there.
“Here. I made sure it followed this line here. See the trees, how they form a U shape around the yard?”
Following the line of trees, I realized he was right. It wasn’t a perfect shape, but it loosely formed a horseshoe. Kneeling down in the dirt, I pushed my fingers into the dirt and began digging, unsure if we needed a shovel or not.
My dad just stood patiently as I dug for the treasure. I was about to give up when my fingernail touched something hard. I looked up at him with a wide smile on my face. He sunk to the ground next to me and began helping me unearth the jar. Once it was freed, I held it between us, inspecting the clouded glass of the mason jar.
I tried to untwist the cap but couldn’t get it to loosen.
“Here, let me try.” My dad took it and gave it a good twist, and we both smiled when we heard the pop of the seal.
I felt like a little girl again as he began to pour the purple sand out. I held my hands up as he emptied it over my fingers, and I felt a few tears begin to well within my eyes.
“Remember what you used to wish for?” he asked, staring down at me with a gentleness I wasn’t used to seeing again.
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “When I was really little, I’d wish for a horse. I wanted one to ride and to take me on adventures. After I turned nine, I would wish for Peter Pan.”
My dad laughed, likely not understanding but my heart warmed at the memory.
“Wes used to tell me stories when I’d crawl into his treehouse. My favorite was always Peter Pan and Wendy’s story, and that first fall, after all the extra members went back and you took me out here to camp, I wished for my very own lost boy who’d take me to an island, away from everything I’d ever known.”
My dad’s gentle voice wove between us as he sat in the dirt with me, staring at the purple sand I used to call treasure. “But Peter Pan wasn’t about Peter and Wendy. It was about the Lost Boys, and Captain Hook.”
“It was to me,” I inclined my head, “I focused on the adventure it must have been for Peter to finally have a Wendy in his life, someone to share different things about his island. The mermaids, and even the crocodile. She was a new adventure for him. The kind he’d never had before or ever again, the kind only a first love can give you.” I smiled through a clogged throat.
My dad studied me while I dusted the last remaining specks of treasure from my hands.
“You know, I never had anything to give you. I was a poor, single dad with a club to my name, and that was my only means at really making any money. I wanted to leave you something, give you something more than purple sand and imaginary fairy dust. I thought by letting you go, and cutting your ties from this place, I’d given you a gift. I only brought you back because I had the chance to leave you this place.”
His eyes misted, the hazel turning gold as the sun invaded our little shady spot. His chin lifted as he continued. “I messed up so much of our relationship, honey. I know I don’t deserve you, but do you think you could give an old man a second chance?”
