G2 Chapter Nine – Visiting Twinbrook

Here it is, at long last! This chapter presented a huge stumbling block for me over the past two years. With some help from Chris, I powered through it, keeping true to my original vision for the storyline while adding some creative flair. This chapter covers some sensitive topics, so as always, read with this in mind. It’s a long one (and rightfully so after making you wait two years for it!) Make yourself comfy, and watch out for a Farmer Legacy first (You won’t be able to miss it, I promise!)

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Two Days Later

The sound of clattering dishes startled me awake and, in my sleepy stupor, I forgot where I was. Loud and jarring as the sound was, it made my heart pound in quick, rhythmic thumps against my ribs. My surroundings came into focus through blurry, sleepy-eyed vision. A light stained wooden dresser adorned with a vintage handmade scarf and a vase of baby pink artificial roses arranged with ferns and baby’s breath. The four-poster bed with silk fabric draped over the canopy frame. Sheer curtains that peeked out from behind heavy, lined draperies. A plush rug near the bed, all the fabrics and colors in soft, feminine tones, very much like what Mama would have chosen. All of those things put together meant one thing: I was at Jason’s home in Twinbrook in the room he decorated especially for me.

My bedroom, with two of the four walls on the exterior of the house, got chilly if closed off during the night. The door was propped open three inches to allow warm air to circulate. Through it, the increasingly loud kitchen noises made their way into the room. I yawned and peeked through the draperies to observe snow falling in huge, wet clumpy flakes from a heavily clouded, cottony sky. The overnight forecast hadn’t called for snow, but Jason foretold the weather’s arrival by a very specific ache in his left knee. He called it a “perk” of growing older, but later confessed it was an old military injury.

The soft, sateen sheets on the bed and a quilt Jason said his mother made for him as a wedding gift, accompanied by a growing sweet aroma from the kitchen of warm cinnamon and hot coffee, helped me to feel comfortable in his home. There was something calming about being in Jason’s home with him and his Australian shepherd, Kota. It was something familial I missed since Mama and Daddy’s passing almost six years prior. 

Speaking of Kota, he was nearby; the click-clacking of his toenails on the wooden floor telegraphed with pinpoint accuracy his position in the house. He was underfoot in the kitchen, judging by Jason’s less-than-polite, but nonetheless cordial, request that Kota turn tail and exit. The clicking of toenails got louder before he pushed the door open and sauntered into my bedroom. Kota huffed, then approached the bed, hoping for some attention. I slid my hand out from under the blankets and scratched his head behind his ears, which made him whine and shake his head.

“Sorry, Kota,” I whispered to him. “I didn’t mean to tickle you, boy.” He licked my hand as though he’d accepted my apology, then ambled to the heater vent by the dresser and laid down with his head atop his paws. Smiling, I snuggled back into bed, relishing the soft warmth that cradled me.

As Jason puttered in his kitchen, I realized the fragrance of cinnamon was one from my childhood, one I hadn’t smelled in many years. It transported me back to a time and a place that seemed so long ago, yet oddly felt like yesterday. Memories of when Mama and Daddy were still here to celebrate with me; they always made sure that my birthday was observed and joyful, no matter the circumstances. 

Without thinking, my hand went to my hair, and I wrapped a length of it around my index finger, just like I’d seen Mama do thousands of times. Her habits and mannerisms were so much a part of me, even on a subconscious level. The icing on my proverbial birthday cake was being with her in Jason’s home. I know it sounds odd to say she was there with me, but he made sure her memory enveloped me. How could I not feel as though Mama were present? Surely, this day wouldn’t be laden with sadness and melancholy the way every birthday since my eighteenth had been.

Right?

I threw back‌ the bedcovers and shivered; the room was chilly, despite the door being opened. I was contemplating getting up when Jason tapped on the door and pushed it open. “Are you awake, birthday girl? Are you decent?” he half-asked, half-chuckled, peering inside. His face wore a jolly smile, and his tone was oddly enthusiastic. For being a self-proclaimed night owl, he was certainly cheery. Perhaps Kota was partially to blame—or to credit—for Jason’s merry disposition. It wasn’t a bad thing.

I sat up, stretched, and smiled. “Yes, I woke up a few minutes ago.” Kota perked up at Jason’s voice and sat up, wagging his stumpy tail.

“Did he wake you? Miserable dog…”

“No, he didn’t. I was already awake. Kota’s a good doggie!” I said in a baby-talk voice, one that I often used with Poppy when she was being cute. Kota trotted to me and barked once, as though he appreciated my absolution of wrongdoing. “So, what smells SO yummy?” My stomach grumbled as I spoke the words. Jason must have heard it, because I did. Nothing like announcing to the world—or my adoptive dad—that I was feeling peckish right out of bed.

The smile on Jason’s face grew into a broad grin that stretched from ear to ear. “That, my dear, is a surprise! If the rumbles from your stomach are any indicator, you’re hungry and I’m glad, because I’ve been slaving in the kitchen all morning for you.” I wasn’t expecting that, especially since we’d stayed up until two o’clock that morning laughing and talking.

“Just for lil’ ol’ me…?” I played it coy, pumping up my Plains accent and batting my eyes. I giggled and Jason laughed along with me, though for a fleeting instant, I saw a hint of longing in his eyes. It never occurred to me how much I must’ve sounded like Mama at times. “I’m famished!” I said in a sing-song voice, hoping to break the tension—real or imagined—I’d created. Jason smiled and bowed toward the door, his arm bent as though he had an invisible towel draped over it.

“After you, ma’am. Ladies first, especially on their birthday.”

“Oh, thank you, Jeeves!” I said, using a snooty, put-on British accent I’d heard on the television, my head held high, my nose in the air, and my voice dripping with fake pretentiousness. 

We chuckled together as we walked from my bedroom and into the hallway, headed for the kitchen with Kota close on my heels. He was, no doubt, hoping for a morsel of our breakfast, a hope that was sure to be fulfilled if I had any say in it. 

As we got to the threshold, Jason stopped short and smiled. The aroma I’d smelled earlier was now clarified as one of cinnamon, bacon and, I thought, maybe a subtle hint of orange. It was the citrusy tang that stirred a memory. Was it what I suspected, or was it just fresh orange juice? I couldn’t be sure. 

“Birthday girl must stay here, lest she spoil her surprise.” He disappeared around the corner. “You may enter in a moment!” he said, continuing the playful banter. I discovered he was much better at a phony British accent than I was.

“Whatever you say, Dad.” Though it still felt a little odd coming off my tongue, I saw how much joy calling Jason ‘Dad’ brought him. No one would ever replace my daddy, but Jason had become a second father to me since we’d reunited two years prior, and I loved him for that.

“How old are you this year anyway, Destiny?” he yelled from the kitchen. I still stood obediently outside the small archway.

“Twenty-four,” I said back, shaking my head in sheer disbelief. It felt like only yesterday I was eighteen and sad, wandering through the farmhouse in Appaloosa Plains, watching Mama and Daddy slip away from me. I shook my head to clear the memory of it. No, Des, you’re NOT going to cry today! I insisted to myself. “It doesn’t seem possible, does it…?” My voice faded into quiet contemplation.

“Not really, considering the fact that I knew you when you weren’t much more than a toddler. I don’t want to say how old that makes me, Destiny,” he said, an audible smile in his voice. “I’m pushing the big six-oh here soon.”

“Maybe in ten years!” I said, teasing him.

“Try two,” he said, laughing. I found that hard to believe. Jason always seemed so much younger than Mama, and she’d have been sixty-five on her last birthday.

“No, you’re absolutely not!”

“I’m not as young as you think,” Jason said, his voice growing stronger as he approached. His beaming smile had gotten brighter, if that was possible. “But, I’m by no means old, either. I’ll be fifty-nine on my birthday next year. Enough about me, though. Are you ready for your surprise?”

“Yes, sir!” I said. 

“No peeking, little missy!” He stepped behind me, placing his hands over my eyes. We walked into the kitchen, his muscular arms guiding me to the island in the middle of his kitchen; I put my hands on the countertop and waited.

The kitchen was large, probably more than a bachelor like Jason needed, but he was right at home there. It was equipped with a six-burner gas stove, a huge refrigerator—way larger than mine, and I bought a big one when I replaced the junker that came with the house—a dishwasher, double sink with a window that looked out over the bayou, and the island with spots for two stools. The window over the sink was fitted with blinds and a cute calico print curtain; it was something Mama would’ve picked out. The woodwork throughout the kitchen, much like the rest of the house, was dark—my first thought was cherry wood—and complemented the craftsman feel of his beautiful, cozy home.

Jason removed his hands from my eyes. They were still clamped shut, waiting for his permission to open them. Luckily for me, my wait was brief. “Open your eyes, Birthday Girl!”

I did. Sitting in front of me was one of the most beautiful sights I’d seen in a long time. A single, oven-fresh, homemade cinnamon roll with orange and cream cheese icing oozing over the top and down the sides in cascades of sugary goodness. I knew when I saw it EXACTLY where it came from or, more precisely, who it came from. 

Jason had placed a small birthday candle dead-center in the roll and lit it for me. The two of us stood in the kitchen—I wore the happiest smile I’d had in years—while he sang his best rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Kota heard Jason’s singing and joined in, howling along with him. It was so heartwarming and hilarious at the same time that I giggled all the way through.

We stood there in silence for a moment before Jason broke the stillness. “Well, are you going to try it, or are you going to keep me in suspense?” He gestured toward the baked nostalgia in front of me.

Without hesitation, I yanked the candle out, picked up the fork next to the plate, and lopped off a big chunk of the roll, right where an abundance of icing had pooled. I stuffed it into my mouth and closed my eyes, relishing the taste that flooded me with warm childhood memories. I finished chewing it, then swallowed and smiled a big, stupid grin.

“I’m guessing that means it’s okay…?”

“Okay?” I said. “Are you kidding me? That was… pretty near perfect! Those are the cinnamon rolls Mama used to make almost every Sunday, aren’t they? I’d know that orange flavor anywhere.” I stuck my finger into the warm icing and it came up covered in sweet, drippy goo, so I licked it clean, savoring the tangy cream cheese with a citrusy punch. “That recipe wasn’t in Mama’s box with the others. I’ve searched everywhere for it. I thought it was gone forever.” I took another bite, mostly to remedy the overabundance of spittle in my mouth. When I said the roll was near perfect, I was dead wrong; he did Mama proud.

“Nope! I’ve had it for, well, since your mama and I parted ways,” Jason said, looking a little sheepish. But only a little. “She made these, as you said, pretty much every Sunday morning, and I fell completely in love with them. It was about the same time I fell in love with her. She sent me this recipe, along with several others, in an envelope with a letter after your dad got back home. She wanted me to enjoy them, even if…” Jason paused, and then shook his head. 

“Anyway, she told me she’d made them so many times that she’d memorized it, so she sent it to me. Don’t worry, Destiny. All the recipes—everything she ever gave me, including her love—will come back to you after I’m gone.” He reached out and hugged my shoulders. “I’m not quite ready to part with some of those things just yet, though.” A tear formed in the corner of his eye, and I felt my eyes welling up, too. I pulled him towards me and gave him my best bear hug.

“I’m in no hurry to have them, either, if it means you’ll stick around a while longer.” At this point, I was holding back a deluge of tears. The thought, the inevitability of losing someone else I loved—someone I’d barely found again—weighed heavily on me. After all, he was just a year younger than Daddy was when he was diagnosed with lymphoma. Rivulets of tears streamed down my face and soaked into Jason’s t-shirt. The morning had taken an unexpected dark turn, but he patted my back and held me while I wept.

“Tell you what, Destiny,” he said, smiling as we broke our hug, sporting his own wet trails down his cheeks. “I’ll do my best. Believe me, I’m in no hurry to leave.” He squeezed my hands, then let them go and wiped at his face with his fingertips. “Okay, enough of that. No more crying today unless, of course, they’re happy tears.” Jason beamed, his face lighting up what had been a morose moment. “This is your special day! From the moment you said you were coming, I knew I had to make your mama’s rolls. I’ve made them before, mind you. Not to brag, but I rocked this batch.”

Another bite of roll dissolved in my mouth as he spoke. “I agree with you. These are phenomenal.” Jason smiled and gave himself a double thumbs-up.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart. Now, let’s eat before my hard work gets cold!” I nodded, chewing on my fourth mouthful of roll. It was much too good to stop eating, even for a moment.

Jason fixed a plate for me of scrambled eggs, three strips of bacon cooked crispy (just how I loved it), and the scraps that remained of my birthday treat. He followed me into the living room, carrying a fresh mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice. I only had two hands, after all.

He set the coffee on the table by the fireplace—roaring with a toasty fire, which Kota had already claimed his place nearby—and waited for me to sit before handing me the orange juice.

“Have you brushed your teeth yet this morning?” he asked as I reached for the glass.

“Um…” I said, now self-conscious. Did I have dragon breath? The thought was horrifying. “No…?”

“Oh, good!” he said, completing his handoff. “Nothing tastes worse than a glass of OJ after a good, minty tooth brushing.”

I smiled and chuckled to myself, taking a sip before setting it beside my coffee; Mama once told me about a similar exchange she’d had with her father regarding orange juice and toothpaste. Jason padded back to the kitchen to retrieve his breakfast and his own piping hot mug of coffee. He set his mug next to mine on the table and reached for my hand.

“Shall we?” he asked, bowing his head to pray.

“Of course,” I said, placing my hand in his. He whispered a short blessing over our meal before we both dug in. 

From the sofa, through the enormous windows that overlooked the bayou, we both watched the snow falling. It felt good to have an easy morning; nowhere to go, and nothing to do, almost like being younger with no worries and nothing pressing. With both of us enjoying breakfast and the falling snow, neither of us said much. Jason’s old school stereo system piped holiday music into the living room, which only added to the cozy atmosphere. 

I took the last bite of my roll and set my plate down on the coffee table. That got Kota’s attention; I’d have never given him anything without Jason’s permission, but he looked at me with his sparkling blue eyes, begging me for the leftovers. Jason beat me to the punch.

“Are you done, Destiny? I see he’s eyeing your plate, so I don’t want him to help himself if you’re intending to finish your breakfast.”

I reached for my coffee cup and tucked my legs up under my bottom. “I can’t eat another bite. If it’s okay, he can have the rest of my eggs.”

“It’s fine. He gets plenty of leftovers when it’s just the two of us.” He picked my plate up and walked to Kota’s bowl in the kitchen with the pup on his heels. Jason’s words to Kota were hushed and muddled, but judging from Kota’s happy barking, he was getting not only my leftovers, but the rest of the eggs Jason had cooked. He walked back to the living room, chuckling.

“Got his way, did he?” I asked. Though the coffee in my mug was getting colder, I still sipped it. Whatever brand of coffee he bought was quite tasty, and I enjoyed it.

“Yeah, he did, the big ham.” Jason took the spot next to me on the sofa. Both of us leaned back against the couch; I closed my eyes, listening to the music, happy and comfortable.

*****

This was the first morning since I’d been here when we weren’t on-the-go. On the first full day, Jason drove us to his buddy’s ranch about a half-mile from his home. Will hooked us up with a couple of horses—a gentle, sure-footed, chestnut mare named Ginger for me, and a similar-colored, taller gelding named Max for Jason—to ride. Jason and I toured Twinbrook on horseback and he showed me everything close to his home on the west end of the bayou. We made a decent-sized circuit of the town on his end of the lake in roughly two hours. Jason led the way back to Will’s ranch, thanked him for the use of his two horses, and we piled back into his pickup.

We ate brunch at a small café that sat lakeside, close to the town center, across the lake from his house. Like most establishments in Twinbrook, the café was family-owned and had been in operation at the same waterfront location for thirty-eight years, serving the same beloved, familiar menu they’d always offered with very little deviation from it. On the weekends, Brunton’s Café often had a line that wrapped around the block. One bite of their crepes and a taste of their fresh ground and brewed coffee helped me to understand why they were so popular. Everything was delicious.

After brunch, we drove to the east side of town for what Jason dubbed the “nickel tour” of Twinbrook. We left the truck at the park and strolled through the town, paying particular attention to the amphitheater where, in the summer, the community hosted a concert series of new and upcoming Indie singers, many of whom hailed from Twinbrook. Until that walking tour, I didn’t realize there was any music scene outside of Starlight Shores and Bridgeport.

From the park, we made our way to the downtown area close to another bistro Jason frequented when the weather was warmer. He pointed westward across the bayou toward the islet where his house stood; granted, the overcast skies made visibility challenging, but I could make out the outline of his home from where we stood. Jason loved the eatery because it reminded him of the diner back home in the Plains where he first met Mama all those years ago.

The downtown area was charming and inviting, with small, quaint storefronts all decorated for the Snowflake Day holiday. We did our fair share of window shopping, laughing and talking, really getting to know one another again. Historical markers dotted the town square, each telling a story of the town’s founding, with a statue of James Jolina, the first mayor of Twinbrook. It was obvious Jason was proud of the little town he called home for the better part of twenty years.

We got back home as the sun set in the western sky, which was only four-thirty in the afternoon. Kota, who’d been cooped up in the house all day, was super glad to see us. We sat on the porch with hot cocoa and watched Kota play in the snow flurries that fell as darkness set in around the bayou. For supper, Jason warmed chili he’d prepared and froze a couple of weeks prior, and served it with fresh-baked cornbread, a dollop of sour cream, chopped onions and a sprinkling of shredded cheese. I stumbled off to bed after an evening of reminiscing and laughter. The clock read 1:30 AM.

The following day, we got an early start, put on our hiking boots, and got Kota’s harness on him to walk the entire circumference of the lake. Jason admitted it was a more pleasant walk when there wasn’t ten inches of snow on the ground. I thought the landscape was gorgeous, with the sunlight making the ice crystals in the snow sparkle like diamonds. 

We stopped along the way at different places to rest and observe the local wildlife. Chipmunks were abundant in the more shallow snow areas near the base of trees that lined the lake. Kota took an interest in them, but was content to watch them scurry around searching for an occasional acorn. 

Around lunchtime, we stopped at a lakeside diner, different from the ones we’d previously seen or visited. Jason called this one his ‘guilty pleasure,’ because it was rundown and qualified as the proverbial ‘greasy spoon.’ He said, however, they had the best hamburgers in Twinbrook. After enjoying one, I agreed with him. The lettuce and tomato were cold and crisp, with their house special dill pickles and sharp cheddar cheese. The burger was truly the best one I’d ever had, alongside an order of crinkle-cut fries (which were my absolute favorite!) and a vanilla cola they made just for me. As we were leaving, the owner slipped Kota a spare hamburger, which he enjoyed with great enthusiasm.

As we hiked the back side of the lake, the snow was deeper and more challenging to walk through. Jason formed snowballs with the powdery snow, which held together long enough for him to throw them for Kota to fetch. Most times, the ball disintegrated into powder upon impact, leaving a confused dog. It never stopped him from searching for it until Jason threw the next snowball for him. That was one of the more confusing traits a dog possessed, one that, being a cat owner, I couldn’t quite comprehend. It was fun, though, learning through Kota what dogs were all about. He was the first one I’d ever encountered for an extended time.

The temperatures were cold, but not unlike the weather back in the Plains, or even Starlight Shores in the winter. We walked until late afternoon, then headed back to the house during the early twilight. We enjoyed another light supper of chili with cornbread and cups of Mama’s hot cocoa. 

Each night, we sat in the living room by the fireplace, smooth jazz holiday music on the radio. I never realized how beautiful jazz was; the breathy resonance of a tenor saxophone, the tinkling keys of a piano, the subtle hiss of brushes on the drums, the soft, rhythmic tones of the bass. It created a peaceful, relaxing ambience, the perfect background for an evening of talking and laughing. 

*****

This morning was quiet, aside from the crackling of fire. Hearing the hissing and popping sounds the burning wood made reminded me of the silly song I wrote for Daddy on one of my last Snowflake Days with them. I could remember the tune, but not the words, which probably wasn’t a bad thing. It was an awful song, even though Daddy loved it. I took a deep breath and sighed; all of this reflection was making me feel as gloomy as the gray skies. Except the sky was only shedding snowflakes. Very real tears threatened to well in my eyes if I didn’t stop. I turned my focus back to the present; none of this introspection was helping my mood. 

Kota still slept by the fireplace, whimpering in his slumber, much how I’d seen Poppy do while she slept. I buried myself in different thoughts—contemplating the dreams of dogs and cats—when the ringing phone broke the morning stillness. Jason excused himself to answer it. Though I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I overheard him mention the newly fallen snow. Maybe he had agreed to shovel a neighbor’s driveway, or plow the untraveled road leading out of the cul-de-sac. Whatever it was, I didn’t figure the call was of any consequence until he came back a few moments later, beaming.

Jason rocked back and forth on his heels with his hands shoved into his pockets, wearing a mischievous smile. His impish nature was one thing I was certain would never change about Jason. He and Mama teased one another—slinging playful barbs, each trying to outdo the other—and they laughed themselves silly doing it. Sure, she and Daddy laughed and had good times together, too. But Jason brought out a different, more playful, coquettish side of Mama. Once Daddy returned home, I never saw that version of her again. Somehow, that thought made me sadder.

Jason broke my melancholy when he spoke. “Well, we’re still on for today!”

“For…?” I emptied the last sip of cold coffee from my cup. It tasted like it was time for another one, too.

“Your second birthday surprise. They were afraid the snow might change my plans, but there’s not a chance I’m going to miss this day with you, Destiny.”

I had a feeling I already knew the answer, but I thought I’d inquire, anyway. “They… who?”

The grin on his face brightened. “Junior and Lisa invited us over for your birthday. I know you knew we’d see them at some point. The big surprise, though, is that Sunny doesn’t know you’re in town. Junior told her you were coming after the new year because of the weather. They’re so excited to surprise her, too.”

“She doesn’t know? Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

“That’s why they called to make sure we were coming. A snowstorm never keeps me at home, especially today! I have a big ol’ truck that weighs a ton equipped with snow tires, not to mention my decades of experience driving in winter weather.”

The day was shaping up to be legendary, an event to remember. “When are we heading out?”

“They’re expecting us for a late lunch.” He grimaced and chuckled. “Sorry, dinner. Seeing as it’s eleven already, we should get moving. I’d be willing to bet the roads aren’t clear, and it’s still spitting snow.” We both stood, picked up what remained of our breakfast dishes, and carried them to the kitchen. “Leave this mess for later,” he said as he wrapped the leftover cinnamon rolls. “Work always waits.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” We looked at each other and laughed.

*****

An hour later, Jason knocked on my door, not opening it, but speaking through it. “Are you about ready, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I need to finish drying my hair and touching up my makeup, and I’m ready.”

“Kota needs to go out,” he said. “I’ll meet you outside.” Before I could answer him, I heard his footsteps walking away from my bedroom door. “Come on, you knucklehead,” he said to the dog, which made me chuckle. It was an affectionate term for the pup, who either didn’t mind or didn’t understand. It couldn’t have been the latter; Kota was, despite Jason’s colorful nickname for him, an intelligent animal.

I finished painting a deep rust color lipstick on, then topped it with a sealer and a glob of lip gloss. Kota barked and huffed outside my bedroom window. Jason sounded a sharp whistle seconds later, followed by another round of Kota’s barking, echoed in the house’s foyer when Jason opened the door. I heard the jingle of Kota’s license and vaccination tags on his collar, followed by Jason’s groan of dismay. I walked into the entryway, unnoticed, just in time to watch as Kota shook out his fur, covered in icy, snowy clumps and clods of dirt. Chunks of crud flew—along with Jason’s soft curses—all over the entryway.

“Damn you, Kota,” he grumbled. “I don’t have time for your messes.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at him. He stopped cussing when he noticed me standing there. Though I appreciated the gesture, I was the daughter of a military man. Daddy cussed frequently, and I heard his muttered salty language just as often, much to Mama’s great annoyance. Daddy was no stranger to the big “F-dash-dash-dash” word, though he and Mama pretended he’d never heard the word, much less uttered it. 

“Oh, hey.” His cheeks blushed a soft pink color. “I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry, Destiny.” 

“It’s okay,” I said, laughing. “I’ve heard worse, trust me. Some of it from my own mouth! Is it still snowing?” Frost—with its intricate, delicate lacy patterns—and a film of condensation covered the panes of glass near the entryway, making it difficult to discern the weather outside. For Jason’s sake, I hoped it stopped, though I’d be the first to admit that I loved to watch the falling snow blanket the frozen landscape. Watching a snowstorm from the warm comfort of home, however, differed from having to drive around in it. 

“Not really,” Jason said. “But Kota, the big knucklehead that he is, he HAD to roll around in the bank and cover himself in muddy snow. Now, I have to sop up all of that dirty water before we go.” Kota, who sat obediently at Jason’s feet, wagged his stumpy tail—and, by extension, his butt—and barked at me, seemingly satisfied with the muck that coated the floor. That made me laugh even harder. 

“It looks like he’s pleased with himself, Dad.”

Jason smirked and grabbed the beach towel he kept hanging—along with Kota’s leash—by the front door. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. The big show off.” Jason took his time to wipe Kota’s coat mostly dry and then used the towel to soak up the growing puddles from the melting snow. “At least he won’t need to go outside again until we come home. Are you ready, Destiny?”

I nodded. “I just need to grab my jacket.”

“Good enough.” He pointed at the dog, who still sat by his side. “And you, mister, you behave yourself. No more messes!” Kota gave him a sharp bark and more body wags; Jason crouched to scratch his head. “I’ll meet you on the porch?” 

“Yes, I’ll be there in a second.” That was my cue to retrieve my winter jacket, scarf, head wrap and gloves. I stepped outside onto the porch, the brisk air catching me a bit by surprise. Even as wrapped up as I was, I still shivered. I walked to where Jason waited for me, the outdoor sounds muffled by the blanket of fresh snow, dampening the echo that normally existed in the bayou (according to Jason, anyway). I expected to hear it crunch beneath my boots, but it was too cold—and the snow too powdery—to “crunch.” Instead, it made a diminutive little squeak as I stepped onto it, as if admitting defeat to the weight of my footsteps.

The air was still, except for a slight, frigid breeze that stirred up remnants of freshly shoveled powder in the driveway. It died down as quickly as it came up, lasted only seconds and brought with it a clean smell. I loved the scent of new-fallen snow, if you could actually smell it. Back home in the Plains, the air was fresher after a snowstorm, as though the winter precipitation had cleaned all impurities from it.

“Let’s go! Chop, chop! Time’s a wastin’.” Jason’s voice broke my rumination. My mind was less on the upcoming visit and more consumed with the wintry spectacle that surrounded us. I always thought the Plains was pretty in the wintertime, but here, the lake and evergreen trees blanketed in snow that surrounded it, with quaint cottages and huts that dotted the landscape, especially around the bayou, with chimneys and their faint ribbons of smoke rising from those cottages and huts, were far more picturesque. At the proper angle, it almost looked like a scene one would see on a Snowflake Day card, peaceful and serene in its beauty and raw simplicity.

“Yes, sir!” I saluted him and clicked my heels together, both of us holding back a snicker. The gentleman he was, he held onto my arm as we walked from the porch onto the sidewalk, and then to his old truck. I couldn’t believe it was the same pickup he bought brand new in the Plains when I was a little girl. For a truck pushing classic status, the heat it pumped from the vents was impressive. In no time flat, we were toasty, despite the wintry temperature.

Jason wended his way through the snowy streets, most of which were still untouched by plows and graders, just as he predicted. We made small talk and reminisced about Appaloosa Plains while he drove; the radio played in the background while we talked, tuned to Jason’s favorite station. Neither of us paid a lick of attention to it until I heard the opening chords of a very familiar song.

Jason looked over at me and chuckled. I sat there like a fool, my mouth hanging wide open in shock. It was the first time I’d heard “Maybe It’s Better This Way” on the radio outside Starlight Shores (but to be fair, this was the first time I’d been away from home in years.) Surprised didn’t describe it. A million thoughts went through my mind in an instant; Jason broke the daze when he spoke.

“Hey!” he laughed. “I know this song!” His infectious smile spread to my face; I was thrilled it was on the radio at all. “Why do you look so surprised? I mean, you released it so people could hear it, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I didn’t realize it was being played everywhere.” If I thought hearing the song on the air was shocking, I was in no way prepared for the deejay’s comments after the song was finished.

“That was the smash hit, ‘Maybe It’s Better This Way,’ by newcomer Destiny Hill, coming in at number five of our top-ten most-requested songs this week…”

“Wait, what?!” I gawked at Jason at the same time he looked at me, both of us sitting there like idiots with our chins on the floorboard. “Did he say number five?” I couldn’t believe it. 

He nodded, turning his attention back to the icy roads. “He sure did, sweetheart. It isn’t a country station, either. It plays a pretty wide variety of music.” I sat back in my seat as the realization hit me; my song had crossed over to the mainstream! Jason patted my knee and flashed his winning smile at me. “I’m so proud of you, Destiny Farmer, just like I’m sure your mama and dad are.”

The deejay’s and Jason’s praise was the independent validation I needed that my song was not only good, but popular. I sat grinning—my emotions flying high on some random cloud packed with snowflakes—while he continued the drive to Junior and Lisa’s home. We’d been en route for what seemed an eternity when Jason picked up his phone. I could only hear his side of the conversation, but he let them know we were five minutes away. Anticipation started building, and I couldn’t wait to see Aunt Sunny and Uncle Caleb again.

Jason reached for my hand and patted it. “Are you doing okay, Destiny? You’ve been quiet since your song was on.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t ready for that shock, welcomed as it was. I can’t wait to see Aunt Sunny and Uncle Caleb, though. It’s been a long time since I last saw them. Too long, if you ask me.”

“It’s been a little while since I’ve seen them, too, I’m ashamed to admit. There’s no excuse for me not visiting, since I’m right here.” He pulled the truck in front of a house that looked like a small mansion. “Speaking of right here, this is it.”

Compared to my little bungalow, the house was enormous. Whatever Junior does, he must be an important guy, I thought to myself. Jason walked around the front of his truck while I gawked at the house; I didn’t notice him standing there, but I appreciated him nonetheless. He extended his hand to me and I grasped it as I slid out of the truck and onto the ice and snow-covered sidewalk. It was a good thing Jason stood there; as soon as the heel of my boot hit the sidewalk, it slipped out from under me. He’d saved me from an embarrassing, and potentially painful, fall on the ice.

“Thanks,” I said.

“We can’t have the birthday girl falling on her tush, can we?”

I giggled. “I suppose not!” He took my arm and linked it with his as he led me across the sidewalk and up the steps to the covered porch. A tall, middle-aged man stood there waiting for us. Though I’d never met Junior before, there was no mistaking that he was a Bradford. He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.

“Hi Jason!” Junior said and held his hand to me. “And you’re Destiny! I know we’ve never met, but I’d know you anywhere. You’re Aunt Frannie’s spitting image.” The one thing I recognized right away, more than anything else, was Junior’s country drawl. 

I’d never had the pleasure of meeting Aunt Sunny and Uncle Caleb’s oldest child when I was growing up, but I’d heard plenty about him and seen photos. Even those photos were of a much younger man than the one who stood before me. 

Caleb Bradford Junior, or “Junior” as I had always heard him called, stood about five inches taller than I did. He was easily in his late forties or early fifties with a slender face and build, and Aunt Sunny’s platinum blond hair, tinged in places with barely visible silver highlights. He wore a short, groomed beard and mustache, and had piercing ice-blue eyes behind the retro-round, wire-framed glasses he wore. It was clear he favored Aunt Sunny’s softness over Uncle Caleb’s harder, somewhat more chiseled features. 

Junior carried himself as a businessman would, standing tall and confident, his clothing reflective of his status. He wore a tan blazer with dress khakis, a sweater vest underneath, and an Oxford shirt, the first button undone. It was what I called “power casual,” and a stark difference from how I always remembered Uncle Caleb who, as a master carpenter, frequently considered flannel shirts and jeans to be “dress wear.”

I’d never heard anyone refer to Mama as ‘Aunt Frannie’ before, so it caught me off-guard. “You must be Ju… I mean, um, Cale,” I said, placing my hand in his. It was the hand of a white collar executive, much more so than someone who worked in manual labor; the skin was soft, warm, and smooth. His grip was firm, but not tight, exuding a confidence similar to the record and studio executives I’d met over the past year. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Please, call me Junior. ‘Cale’ is for my business associates and clients; you’re family. And believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” He turned and opened the front door and invited Jason and me into the foyer. “Please come in. You can hang your coats over there.” He gestured to a set of ornate coat hooks on the wall near the doorway.  

“Mama doesn’t know you’re here, though I’m sure Jason mentioned that to you already. Lisa and the girls are helping to get Dad settled.” Junior’s voice dwindled; I looked at Jason, who stood in silence next to me and shrugged. “As soon as they’re finished, Lisa will come to get you.” He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “By the way, congratulations on the song, Destiny. I heard it on the radio earlier. Your mama and dad would be so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. How refreshing to hear that country twang again, too. It gave me a warm feeling of recollection and comfort. I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like, aside from MY stupid country lilt, which I still despised.

“You’re well on your way. Mama keeps tabs on the entertainment news out of the Shores. We’ve all been waiting for your star to shine.”

“I just hope it shines for a while. Singing makes me feel the most like me. It’s who I am.”

Junior winked and then nodded toward Jason. “If that song is any indication, Destiny, you’re headed for greatness.” If they knew the struggle I’d had while clawing my way up the ladder, they’d be even more impressed.

“I concur,” Jason said in agreement. “Wait until you hear her sing in person. That voice doesn’t need one bit of help.” The two guys chuckled as we waited in the entry foyer. 

A few minutes later, Lisa greeted us with a bright, friendly smile, one that seemed anything but authentic. I’d seen THAT from record executives before, too. Lisa was about an inch taller than me and slender like Junior. Her brunette hair, pulled back from her face in a tight, but messy, ponytail, showed the beginnings of subtle gray. She didn’t speak with the same drawl the rest of us had, which I found odd because she grew up in Appaloosa Plains, too. 

Her clothing and style were simple, but fashionable; a chunky, holiday-green cable-knit sweater with a cowl neck, blue jeans and stocking feet. The scrunchie that held her ponytail in place matched the sweater and she had small, tasteful snowflake earrings in each ear. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t need it, either. Lisa Bradford was a stunningly beautiful woman.

“Hi, Jason, good to see you,” she said, stepping forward for a hug and planting a light kiss on his left cheek. “And you…” she extended her hand forward to me. “You’re Destiny. We’ve all heard so much about you!” She shook my hand vigorously; I could tell her enthusiasm was genuine, even if her smile was not.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m Destiny. You must be Lisa. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having us. Your home is beautiful!”

“This place?” Her eyes scanned the room before returning her gaze to me. “Oh, honey, thank you so much! It’s something of a disaster area right now. I hope you’ll pardon the mess. We’ll be ready to eat in a bit. In the meantime, make yourselves at home. Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Beer? Water?”

“I’ll take a beer if you’re buying, Lisa,” Jason said with a wink. “How about you, Destiny?”

“Um… wine, please?” I said, looking first at Jason, then to Lisa.

“Of course!” Lisa said. “Red, white, something in between?”

I thought for a moment. “Surprise me!” I said.

Lisa nodded. “Will do! Be right back.” She turned on her heel and padded toward the kitchen.

Jason and I stood in the foyer feeling a bit awkward. “This is quite the house they’ve got, isn’t it?” he said. While we waited, I looked around and drank in our surroundings. Jason had been here frequently, but this was my first—and likely only—visit to the Bradford home.

The grand entryway to the Bradford home opened into a large space. Directly in front of the door, there was a craftsman staircase leading to the second floor. To my right was a room that looked like a formal dining room; the table was set with antique china and silver, I guessed, for our dinnertime meal later that afternoon. I felt at home right away; the house smelled much like our little farmhouse did during the fall holidays. 

The formal living room was to the left. The room was enormous and decorated for the upcoming Snowflake Day holiday. Their tree—which sat in front of a sizable picture window—was fresh and fragrant, scenting the air with pine. I didn’t recognize the type of tree, but I knew it was nothing like the Fraser firs we had back at home. It had petite branches and short, compact needles on the tips, all illuminated by hundreds of twinkling lights in every color. The ornaments on it were heirlooms; I’d seen most of them on Aunt Sunny’s tree years ago.

A long camelback sofa sat perpendicular to an ornate fireplace. Two coordinating living chairs were placed opposite the sofa, with accent tables on either side of the sofa, and one between the chairs. A coffee table that matched the accent tables sat in the middle of the family room; a vintage ceramic tree illuminated the space, adding a cozy charm to a well-decorated area.

“Junior must do his job very well,” I said, surveying my surroundings. I was a little ashamed to admit that I was jealous of the luxury and plushness of the Bradford home.

“From what I understand, he’s one of the youngest junior—pardon the pun—partners his law firm has ever hired,” Jason said. “C’mon, let’s go sit down.”

I followed Jason into the living room, its air filled with all the smells I associated with Snowflake Day. From the kitchen came the mouthwatering aroma of our soon-to-come dinner. I wondered if Aunt Sunny had made her famous pies for dessert. I sure hoped so.

Jason took a seat in one of the chairs while I sat on the sofa near the fireplace, thankful for the warm glow and heat it provided. A few moments later, Lisa reappeared and handed Jason a beer, and me a glass of wine. It was ruby red in color and glimmered in the glow from the fireplace; the light reflected in the liquid as I swirled it in the glass. I breathed in and felt at peace. I took a sip of the wine and was surprised by its sweet, spicy flavor. So much so that I took another, much larger sip… and then another.

“You must enjoy that, Destiny,” Lisa said with a snicker. I hadn’t realized I was being watched, and felt a little embarrassed.

“Yes,” I said, “it’s really good. I don’t drink much wine, but this is excellent!” Did Lisa think I was a wino? I sure hoped not.

“Glad you like it. Remind me when you leave, and I’ll send a bottle home with you. Cale picks up a few bottles whenever he travels back to Appaloosa Plains. That’s where the vintner lives. She makes this mulled variety especially for Snowflake Day.” 

“Thank you. I didn’t realize Appaloosa Plains was wine country now, but I’m glad to hear it. It’ll be like taking a piece of home back… well, home.” I giggled, feeling a bit light-headed. The wine sure had a kick.

“More?” Lisa asked, offering a refresh on my glass.

“Please!” I said with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Good thing I’m driving!” Jason said with a smile as he took a swig of his beer. I looked over and stuck my tongue out at him. That prompted a belly laugh from him; I followed suit with my own hearty chuckle.

Lisa returned with my refilled wineglass and set it on the coffee table for me. She joined me on the sofa and looked straight into my eyes with a serious expression. I couldn’t guess what was coming next. Jason, who sat with his beer, gave me his best poker face, but under the facade wore the smile of a Cheshire cat.

“Destiny,” Lisa said with a somber tone in her voice, “I have a serious question for you. My kids—the children we raised from birth—are driving Cale and me absolutely crazy about meeting YOU!” She ended her statement with an excited tone. “Ever since Jason over there,” she raised her arm and aimed her thumb in Jason’s direction, “set this whole thing up, the kids have been losing their minds waiting to meet you. Would you be okay with meeting them before we have dinner? Otherwise, I think they might explode.”

“Lisa,” I said, taking her hand in mine and conjuring up my best solemn tone, “speaking as a former child, I will be happy to meet them.” Unable to maintain his charade any longer, Jason cracked up, laughing as he took the last swig of his beer; his infectious guffaw made Lisa and me laugh, too.

Lisa turned her head toward the kitchen door, where three sets of eyes peered out into the living room. “Come on, kiddos. Destiny won’t bite.” A tall, blond boy of barely sixteen with an athletic build entered the room first. He was already taller than Lisa, and struck a strong resemblance to a younger Caleb Junior. “This is Todd, our firstborn,” Lisa said with obvious pride. She placed a loving hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave him a pat. 

“Hi, Todd. It’s so nice to meet you.” I offered my hand to him, which he took in his grasp and gave a firm shake. I’ll admit, I wasn’t prepared for the strength of his grip.

“Miss Hill,” Todd said. “It’s such an honor to meet you.” Everyone saw the boy was star-struck, though I couldn’t for the life of me imagine why.

“Please, just call me Destiny. We’re family, Todd,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Sorry, um, Destiny,” he stammered, the awkwardness of an adolescent boy on full display. “I-I just love your song.” Todd blushed and turned away from me, I guessed, to hide the darkening hue of red on his cheeks. It was obvious he was nursing a crush. Poor kid.

“Thank you, Todd,” I said. “I’m so glad you do.”

Lisa motioned to the other two sets of eyes that continued to watch from the kitchen door. “Come girls,” she said, beckoning them to her side. They were eerily identical in looks and mannerisms; they grasped each other’s hands and giggled, walking shyly toward their mother. “Destiny, meet our babies. This is Rosie,” Lisa said, pointing to the twin wearing pigtails in her hair. “And this is Rachel.” The twin who wore her hair in a single ponytail giggled as Lisa spoke her name. “They’re both BIG fans.”

The twins were dressed in identical outfits; each of them wore a pair of faded blue jeans with a cream-colored shell under a bulky knit, beige cardigan. The only way to tell them apart was the difference in their hairstyles. Each of them carried a small book, and had the same starry-eyed expression their older brother wore. Rosie—the girl in pigtails—wore only stocking feet, while pony-tailed Rachel had leather and wood clogs. They were both shy and polite; to be honest, I don’t believe either of them had a clue what to say.

Rosie stepped forward with the book in her hand. “C-Can I have your autograph?” She broke eye contact with me and shied away, allowing Rachel to present her book. That they were star-struck—just like Todd had been—was clear. The twins stood there gawking, both of them holding their treasures, hanging on for my answer. I don’t think either of them breathed until I smiled and nodded my head. They looked at one another and started chattering in an unrecognizable cacophony of sounds, a language that only they understood. 

“Girls!” Lisa said. “Girls, give Destiny a little space. Honestly!” She shot me an apologetic glance, and then turned her attention back to the three anxious teenagers. “Why don’t y’all go get ready for dinner while Destiny visits with Gigi?” That suggestion was met with mutual “Awws” of disappointment, but all three kids turned and walked toward the staircase. “We’re eating in about thirty minutes. Please be back down here in fifteen!” Lisa commanded them like a general ordering his troops. “Sorry about that, Destiny. They really ARE your biggest fans, though I have a confession. I listen to your song all the time myself. It reminds me of my failed relationships before Cale and I got together.” I smiled at Lisa, delighted that she and her children found enjoyment in my music. “So, are you ready for the guest of honor?”

“You mean Aunt Sunny?” My voice brightened at my mention of her name. It had been six years since I’d spoken to either Aunt Sunny or Uncle Caleb in person. “I’m excited to surprise her, and see her again!” Without thinking—mostly because I hadn’t seen him since our arrival—I blurted out, “What about Uncle Caleb…?” Before I finished my sentence, the atmosphere in the room shifted from light and cheerful to almost a sense of dread. I bit my bottom lip. Something wasn’t right.

“Ah, yes, well…” Lisa took a breath and held it. “Papa B… I mean, Caleb… he hasn’t been feeling well today, but we’ll bring him down after dinner so you can see him.” She patted me on the shoulder. “For now, let’s surprise Mama B.”

“That’s fine,” I said, picking up my wine glass for another sip. Lisa excused herself to find Junior and I sat, somewhat gloomier now, on the sofa. Jason noticed the change in my demeanor and came over to sit beside me. He took my hand in his and looked at me, his eyes saying everything words couldn’t express. I laid my head on his shoulder and tried thinking happy thoughts.

Lisa returned a few minutes later, her cheery demeanor back in place. “Destiny, would you go out and hide in the foyer until Cale gets Sunny situated?” she asked. “Jason, you just stay put.” My spirits were perked up a bit knowing I’d be part of Aunt Sunny’s Snowflake Day surprise, albeit a little early. I stood and left the room, tucking myself into the entryway. Like a kid on Snowflake Day morning, though, I peeked around the corner to watch, silent and undetected.

Junior entered the family room with an older lady on his arm, holding onto him with a death grip. I wonder who she is… I thought to myself until I realized the lady on Junior’s arm was Aunt Sunny. Stupid! Of course it’s Aunt Sunny, I scolded myself. Who else would it be? What used to be a beautiful mane of platinum blonde hair was now white as the December snow; her liveliness replaced by someone far more frail and advanced in years. I felt instant regret for having waited this long to see her. Junior led Aunt Sunny to the living chair where Jason had been sitting earlier. She eased herself into the chair, looking old and tired. Jason walked from the sofa to Aunt Sunny; her face lit up with surprise.

“Hi Sunny!” Jason said, stretching out his hand to take hers. “How’s the sexiest lady in Twinbrook today?” 

Aunt Sunny stood with some effort, wearing an ear-to-ear grin, and hugged Jason. “Oh, pish tosh, you charmer! Maybe once upon a time. Maybe!” Sure, she was older, but the twinkle in her blue eyes was just as vibrant as I always remembered. “It’s so good to see you, but what on earth made you come out in this awful weather?”

“I had to see my favorite gal for the holidays, plus,” he leaned closer to her and spoke a bit louder than a whisper, “I brought something for you.” Jason winked at Junior, who stepped behind Aunt Sunny. “It’s a surprise, an early Snowflake Day gift, if you will.”

She was about to speak, but Junior cut her off at the pass. “Sit back down, Mama. I’m going to cover your eyes.” He motioned to Lisa, who then motioned to me. I tiptoed into the living room and its stark silence. Jason shifted his gaze to me, and grinned as I got closer. He reached for my hand and squeezed it, then pointed my attention toward Junior, who gestured for me to kneel in front of Aunt Sunny. My hands were as cold as ice as I took her soft, warm, aging hands into them. I couldn’t wait for Junior to step away and reveal their big surprise.

Another smile lit up Aunt Sunny’s face. “Is this my Maya? Did she bring my new grandson to see me? My baby always has cold hands.” She was so hopeful that Maya was there, I prayed my presence wouldn’t disappoint her.

“No, Mama.” Junior leaned closer to her and whispered, “It’s not Maya. Open your eyes and see.” He stepped back, pulling his hands from her face.

The moment froze, as though Father Time himself had stepped in and stopped the clock. Aunt Sunny’s eyes opened slowly, as though she didn’t believe Junior and still expected Maya to be holding her hands. She blinked several times, but didn’t seem to recognize me, squinting through noticeably older eyes; she gasped as though she’d seen a ghost. “F-Frannie?! No! It can’t be!”

Junior nodded at me; at last, it was my cue to speak. I squeezed her hand in mine and exhaled the breath I’d been holding since I took my place. “No, Aunt Sunny, but you’re real close.” 

Her trembling hands reached to touch my cheek while tears spilled down hers. “Destiny?!” I stood and watched her eyes follow my face. My hands still grasping hers, I helped her to her feet. I wrapped my arms around her, letting my tears of joy flow freely down my face. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, whispering into my ear.

“I hope you’re not disappointed I wasn’t Maya,” I whispered to her.

She pulled away from the hug. Her eyes twinkled with their usual light. “Of course not!” She kissed my cheek and let the embrace fall away, then took her seat again. “Lisa told me you were stuck in Starlight Shores with the weather, so I was praying you’d stay safe.” It was then she looked over and noticed not only Lisa’s smile, but Junior’s sly grin as well. She snickered as she shifted her gaze to Junior. “You two were in cahoots on this, weren’t you? You little stinkers!”

Junior grinned and nodded. “Guilty as charged, Mama. It was Jason’s idea, but I thought it was brilliant. Are you surprised?”

Aunt Sunny smiled. “You gave me the best gift this year for Snowflake Day. All of you. Our own little superstar!” She leaned close to my ear and whispered, “That’s quite a song you have on the radio. We hear it all the time, and I’m so proud of you!” I’d say that she smiled, but it was more than just a smile. She was beaming, glowing every bit of happiness for not only herself, but Mama and Daddy, too. I didn’t know what to say, which wasn’t a bad thing. The lump of emotion in my throat was the size of a boulder; no amount of swallowing would make it disappear. So much for not wanting to cry on my birthday.

Lisa and Junior were gracious hosts, allowing Aunt Sunny and me all the time we wanted to visit and catch up. I was beyond thrilled to spend time with her; between Jason and Aunt Sunny, I hadn’t felt this close to Mama in a while. It wasn’t long, though, before Lisa announced that dinner was ready and, despite having a sizable breakfast with Jason, I was famished.

As we seated ourselves at the oversized, well-dressed table in the formal dining room, I became more aware of Uncle Caleb’s absence. I missed his larger-than-life personality and, happy as I was, I still felt as though part of the puzzle had been excluded. I sat between Jason and Aunt Sunny with Junior and Lisa at the heads of the table; the children sat across from us. As we waited for Lisa and Junior to finish in the kitchen, the two girls became restless, playing with silverware and dishes.

“How about, after we have dinner, I sing a few songs with you guys?” I spoke to the kids, trying to distract them from the antics that were sure to get them into trouble. That drew their attention to me, which was what I had hoped for. The girls chattered and giggled. Todd joined in the laughter, which was much less twittery than the twins’. My gaze shifted to Jason and Aunt Sunny and their broad grins. My smile joined theirs, amused that the girls were so eager. All three of them were personable and welcoming, but I expected nothing less from a Bradford. 

“I have a guitar you can use.” Todd spoke over his sisters. “I-I mean, if you want to.”

What I had to say, I figured, would likely make his day. “I’d love that, Todd, thank you! My guitar is back in Starlight Shores at the recording studio, so it would be wonderful to use yours.” Knowing Todd had a guitar I could use made me feel more comfortable. Given the choice, I always preferred to sing with an instrument rather than unaccompanied.

Little by little, platters of food appeared on the table until Junior carried out a whopper of a plate containing a carefully carved ham. “Dinner is served!” Lisa said as Junior placed the last platter on the table. Every square inch of space on the table was taken by a plate or serving bowl, with a couple extras on small side tables that Junior had set up by his side. 

Lisa prepared a spread for dinner that could’ve fed twice the number of people we had at the table, which explained in great detail the mouth-watering aromas that had wafted from the kitchen since our arrival. Homemade meatloaf, which I recognized as Aunt Sunny’s recipe from the savory smell alone, mashed potatoes, candied yams, fresh green beans, corn casserole, and the aforementioned spiral sliced ham trimmed with cloves, pineapple and a brown sugar glaze. 

Alongside everything else were Aunt Sunny’s signature sweet dinner rolls and, while I wondered if she’d baked one of her to-die-for pecan pies for dessert, there were whispers around the table that she’d crafted a cream cheese-filled pumpkin roll instead. Mama spoke often about that indulgence, and more so after Aunt Sunny and Uncle Caleb left the Plains. I’d never tried one, so I hoped the whispers were true.

Conversation was sparse during dinner, as we were all too busy eating to talk. The meal was delicious, and I was stuffed; I was wise enough, however, to leave a little room for dessert. Baking was still Aunt Sunny’s passion; the craft was in her blood from my earliest memories, and would be, I was sure, until she drew her last breath. I couldn’t recall the last meal I’d had like this one, but it was long before Mama and Daddy had fallen ill, with Aunt Jenny, Uncle Paul, and my cousins, Joshua and Jonah.

Junior excused himself from the table to add more firewood to the hearth while Lisa and the kids cleared the table and loaded the dishwashers; they had two, and from the size of the family they fed daily, I could understand why. My offers to help were summarily declined. As both Lisa and Aunt Sunny said, I was their guest. Jason and I excused ourselves from the table, picked up our wine glasses, and resumed our positions by the fireplace on the sofa.

A few minutes later, Todd’s footsteps were on the staircase, followed by the conspicuous sound of a guitar as he handled the strings. He handed to me what was obviously his pride and joy, so I handled it with the proper care and respect. It was a beautiful, Ibanez classical guitar, not that dissimilar from the one I learned to play as a child, aside from the nylon strings. 

“This is a beautiful instrument, Todd,” I said, strumming the strings with my thumbnail. My ear detected a couple of notes slightly out of tune. “Do you mind if I tune this for you?”

“Oh no, Destiny, not at all. I try to keep it in tune, but I’m still learning.” His hand was closed around something as I slipped the strap around my neck and settled the guitar on my knee. “Here, I brought a few picks. I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer.” His fingers opened to reveal a traditional, tortoiseshell-patterned pick, and several finger picks in a similar color. I’d only played a classical guitar once or twice, and never with finger picks, so I chose the flat variety.

He held his hand to me, the flat pick in his fingers. I reached and took it from him; my fingers grazed his hand, and he blushed again. Yep, Destiny, I thought to myself, this boy’s got it bad for you.

“I owe you another thank you, Todd. You know, when I was growing up and playing my first guitar, I used a tiny seashell for a guitar pick. I played more songs with that shell than I can remember. When the shell fell apart, my daddy made me a set of picks from a scrap of hardwood, with a lot of help from your papa. I still have and use them, too.” I thought back on how smooth and sweet my strumming became using the picks Daddy made for me, and I smiled.

The guitar’s low E string was a little out of tune, making the rest of the instrument sound wonky. I sang an ‘E’ note and matched the string to my voice. Jason sat back and watched, fascinated—he wasn’t the only one, either—as I used the pitch of my voice to tune this gorgeous instrument. After fixing the tension of each note, I strummed the guitar again, and it sounded perfect. I glanced up at Todd to see him sporting an ear-to-ear grin. No doubt in my mind, I’d given him a memory that would last a lifetime.

As the rest of the family came into the room, I played soft instrumental versions of holidays classics they knew and loved. Everyone sat around the coffee table; the girls were on the floor sitting cross-legged by Aunt Sunny and Junior. Todd sat by Lisa, and Jason was next to me on the sofa. 

After some coaxing from the girls, I kicked off my boots and moved to the floor, sitting “criss-cross applesauce” in front of Jason. Sitting that way gave me more room to play, and I felt much more at home on the floor with the kids. The girls moved closer, placing themselves across from me. My captive little audience of teenage girls, both of them watched every move I made. Todd watched me, too, but his gaze was more studious, as though he hoped to pick up technique from watching me play. Truthfully, I could have learned some things from Todd, as I wasn’t all that great at finger picking.

The entire family sang along as I played; I felt so humbled as the songs and our voices filled the room. After an hour of sing-along, we’d exhausted the catalog of songs everyone knew, but I sensed the younger Bradfords were expecting more. Jason leaned forward and nudged my arm, then whispered in my ear. “You should sing your song, Destiny. That’s what the kiddos want to hear.” I knew he was right; Jason was always right. I took a deep breath and nodded, then strummed the opening chords of “Maybe It’s Better This Way.” 

The air sat heavy in the room and in my lungs with everyone’s eyes trained on me. Without the band, the song would sound nothing like what the kids expected. Would they like it? Or more importantly, could I keep my cool while I sang it for my family? I didn’t know the answer to those questions before I sang the first notes.

Here goes nothing…

Rather than concentrate on my family in the room, I paid close attention to the pitch of my voice, to the tone of this beautiful instrument I held in my hands and played. The guitar that hung in the studio was expensive, but side by side with the one I strummed, there was little comparison; Todd’s guitar won, hands down. If I was a little nervous, no one would’ve known it; my voice never betrayed me. 

When the song ended, the twins applauded, and Todd sat in amazement. It was one of the most humbling moments of my life. You never realize how difficult it is to sing for family and friends until you’re in the moment doing it. Having all the attention on me made me feel lightheaded. My cheeks flushed, and I felt overly warm. Jason’s watchful eye kept tabs on me, but above all, I noticed proud smiles from him and from Aunt Sunny, too.

I propped Todd’s guitar against the sofa and stretched out. Rosie and Rachel approached a second time—this time with no objections from their mother—and asked for autographs. At first, Todd only wanted a photograph with me, so Junior had us pose for a few different shots; the hands-down favorites were the photos where he kissed my cheek, and where I kissed his cheek in return. 

Todd asked if I’d be willing to sign his guitar, which I didn’t hesitate to do. Before I knew it, he had an indelible marker in his hand, and a sly smile on his face. I laughed as I signed my stage name neatly on the lower bout of the instrument. It was sometime later I learned he had my signature engraved into the wood as a permanent reminder. 

Chattering and excited, the kids made their way from the room, disappearing up the stairs. The rest of us sat for a couple of hours, talking and reminiscing about our home back in the Plains. I didn’t expect how much we’d end up talking about Mama and Daddy, Uncle Paul and Aunt Jenny, too. They were all frequent topics of discussion. 

I hoped speaking of Daddy didn’t make Jason uncomfortable, or bring up painful memories he’d have rather forgotten. Occasionally, I’d peek at him during our discussions, and he seemed to take everything in stride. Other than my well-intentioned song debut on our first night together, he hadn’t lost his cool while talking about Mama, with me or with the Bradfords. That was a good thing.

*****

As the hours passed, I watched as Aunt Sunny’s energy diminished. She was no longer the dynamo she once was; that realization broke my heart. Lisa excused herself to, as she put it, “take care of something.” It was a few moments later when Jason checked his watch, stretched out, and yawned.

“Well, Destiny, I think we’ve left Kota alone long enough for one day. What do you say, kiddo? We head back home before he eats the house and all my furniture?” He laid his hand on my arm and jutted his chin toward Aunt Sunny. It was clear—after Jason pointed it out—that she was struggling to stay awake and alert. I had to clench my jaw to stifle the emotion I knew was coming; time to leave meant saying goodbye. This time, it would be a true goodbye, too. 

I inhaled a sharp breath and held it while I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “We don’t want to keep Kota inside too long.”

I realized, in all the fun and singing, I still hadn’t seen Uncle Caleb. Now I was worried that I might not get to see him—to say goodbye one last time—before we left. I mouthed the words “Uncle Caleb” to Jason; he shrugged, but pulled Junior aside and whispered to him, I assumed, about seeing him. He nodded and, without saying a word, ascended the stairs in the grand foyer.

Once we were on our feet, Aunt Sunny perked back up, but she still looked frail and so much older than I thought she should have. I had to ask her, because I needed to know why I hadn’t seen Uncle Caleb the entire time I’d been here. I put my hands on her arms, more to steady her than anything, and peered into her blue eyes. She had to know what was coming, what I’d ask of her. She had that look about her.

“Aunt Sunny, is Uncle Caleb okay? Lisa said earlier he wasn’t feeling well, but I really don’t want to miss seeing him.” I watched the smile fade from her still beautiful face. She took my hand and led me back to the sofa, where we sat together.

“Jason, would you excuse us for a moment?” she asked him.

“Of course, Sunny. I’ll be in the foyer, Destiny.” She waited a moment until she could no longer hear Jason’s footsteps walking away from us. Whatever she needed to tell me weighed on her; her icy blue eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know where to start, Destiny. There is so much to say.” Aunt Sunny took a deep breath and sat forward, peering into my eyes, searching for the words. “You’ve known Caleb your entire life, and he’s adored you from the moment you came home from the hospital with your mama. If it’s possible, he was just as proud of you as your folks were. He loved them, too, but I think he was what I used to call ‘innocently sweet’ on your mama. You girls and your red hair fascinated him, I suppose, because we didn’t have many ‘carrot tops’ in the Plains. You know, some folks might take offense at that nickname, but I know you and your mama both knew that, for Caleb, it was a term of deepest endearment.”

“Yes,” I said, “I know Uncle Caleb was always talking to Daddy about his ‘flame-haired’ girls. He was very fond of Mama and me.”

Aunt Sunny nodded, then continued. “Our home in Appaloosa Plains was where Caleb grew up. The homestead was passed down over generations from Bradford to Bradford until we sold it.” Aunt Sunny’s voice grew wistful and filled with remembrance. “Caleb and I shared our first kiss under a big pear tree that used to stand in the corner by the WIllards’ old farm until a snowstorm took it down years later. He proposed to me on the front porch, down on one knee in such an old-fashioned way. Caleb loved that old house and farmland as much as he loves me. When we decided together to leave Appaloosa Plains, he assured me it was no big deal to him, but I knew he’d miss the old homestead, the place where every wonderful memory he had was made.”

“When we went back for your folks’ funeral services, after we left Jenny’s house, we found ourselves driving past the old house, almost as though we were on autopilot. Both of us wanted to see it, but Caleb wanted more it than I did. Even though it was snowing and downright frosty outside, he got out of the car and walked into the front yard like we still owned it and stared at the house, almost entranced. I had to go jostle him to bring him back around. That’s when that lovely couple that bought the property—the Stonewalls, I believe—invited us in to warm up. Caleb walked around that old house like he’d been reunited with an old friend, but driving home, he was quiet and withdrawn. At first, we thought it was because of the situation with your folks, but as time went on, we knew something wasn’t quite right.”

I cocked my head and furrowed my brow. “Not… right? I’m not sure I follow, Aunt Sunny.”

“We watched over him, but after a little while, he seemed better. We all breathed a little easier until the morning he slumped over while reading the newspaper…” Aunt Sunny paused and clenched her jaws together, trying to stifle the tears that came, anyway. “I screamed, and Lisa came running from the bedroom. We called for an ambulance and they took Caleb away from here, hooked up to every monitor and machine they had. Junior met us at the hospital. It was the longest day of my life.” She sniffled, reaching for a tissue from the box that sat on the end table.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but it sure didn’t sound good. “What happened, Aunt Sunny? Is he okay?”

Still dabbing at the tears that continued to flow down her cheeks in narrow rivulets, she nodded. “He is now, but it was scary for a while. They ran some tests and, after a time, determined he’d had what the doctor called a ‘minor brain accident’. At first, he wasn’t able to speak, but that came back as time passed. He’s not as strong as he used to be; he gets tired and sometimes a little confused, especially when we have company.”

“That sounds horrible,” I said, choking back my own tears.

“It was no fun, that’s for sure,” she said. “Sometimes, he has a little trouble remembering things, especially recent events. The doctor mentioned dementia at his last doctor’s appointment.” The tissue she held in her hand was well-dampened with tears, but it still worked to catch the ones that dripped from her eyes. “He doesn’t remember real good sometimes, Destiny. He’ll just look right through us as though he doesn’t know any of us, and other times, he’s the same Caleb he’s always been. Today hasn’t been a great day for him.” She reached to touch my face; my hands reached for hers as she held it to me. “You can see him, but I want you to steel yourself, Destiny, in case he doesn’t recognize you. It’s always a possibility.”

For a split second, I considered not seeing Uncle Caleb, to take my last memory of him from six years ago and remember him still looking vibrant and healthy. But in reality, I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I gave up my last opportunity to see Uncle Caleb. I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that resided there, patted Aunt Sunny’s hand and nodded. “I need to see him, Aunt Sunny. He needs to know that I love him.”

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “He will love that.” Aunt Sunny motioned to Junior, who was standing by, talking with Jason in the foyer. “How’s your dad doing upstairs?”

Junior glanced at me with an odd expression; I couldn’t tell how he felt, or what I’d be walking into once Aunt Sunny escorted me to see Uncle Caleb. He bobbed his head side to side, waving his hand similarly. “Lisa has him in the family room. He’s settled for now, watching the gridball game on television with Todd.”

Aunt Sunny smiled. The relief on her face was palpable. “He loves watching the game with Toddy, so he’ll be in a better mood.” She turned to face me again. “I’ll bring you upstairs in the elevator, which opens up into our bedroom. That will give us a buffer.”

I was intrigued. “An elevator?”

She nodded. “They had it installed when Caleb had his accident and had a hard time getting around. I use it all the time, even though I’m capable of walking up the steps. I have to admit, it’s pretty handy.”

“I bet,” I said. “I have to ask why, though. Won’t that make the house harder to sell at some point?”

Aunt Sunny shrugged. “There are no bedrooms down here. Junior did the math. It was more economical to add an elevator than to build a bedroom and accessible bathroom down here. Plus, with the room upstairs being wheelchair-friendly, it would be an excellent feature for a prospective buyer someday. Junior and Lisa aren’t ready to sell, though. Their children are still young, and they’re settled here.”

I nodded my head. “That’s a good point.” I remembered how difficult it was for Daddy to get around our tiny farmhouse after he relied on a wheelchair. An elevator would have made his life so much easier. Aunt Sunny stood and motioned toward the lift.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?”

“I am,” I said. Whatever awaited me at the top of that elevator, I was prepared to meet it head on. She took my hand and led me to the door, pressed the button and watched as it opened. Aunt Sunny stepped into the elevator first; though I didn’t mean to, my feet froze to the floor, and I had a hard time stepping forward. She knew what I was thinking—she had to know—because she nodded and held the door open. I took a deep breath and stepped in behind her, watching as the door closed. Aunt Sunny pressed the button she must have pressed hundreds of times; the elevator lurched upward. It wasn’t the smoothest ride, but it did its job.

The door opened up into a medium-sized bedroom. The first thing I noticed was a hospital bed with a tray of medical supplies on the nightstand. Next to it sat a sleigh-style single bed made up with an oversized handmade quilt. The walls were adorned with family photos; Aunt Sunny and Uncle Caleb’s wedding photo, family portraits with, and without, Maya. Even a photo of Mama and Daddy was placed on Aunt Sunny’s dresser. A walker with wheels and a seat sat next to the dresser, closer to Uncle Caleb’s bed.

Aunt Sunny’s sleigh bed was located closest to a set of glass French doors that led outside to a patio, covered, as it was, in snow. The wall over her nightstand was filled top to floor with ribbons from the summer festival back in the Plains; mostly blue, first-place ribbons with a few second-place thrown in for good measure. I walked to them and admired the multitude of achievements she’d garnered throughout the decades she baked. She walked to where I stood, gawking at each ribbon, and pointed at the biggest one.

“See that ribbon there?” She chuckled for a moment and placed her hand on my shoulder. “That one was my proudest moment.” Aunt Sunny plucked the ribbon from the nail upon which it hung and handed it to me. “Funny thing about that ribbon is, I won it using your granny’s hot milk cake recipe. Penny always made the best cakes, but she never entered them in the fair. She always said hers fell in the middle. I never had that problem with them. That year, though, it couldn’t have been better. Penny’s cake recipe, and my granny’s buttercream frosting, won best in show.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, obviously lost in the memory. “It was the only time I ever won that title.”

“Was Nana still alive then?”

“Oh, yes! This was before your grandpa Jake passed away, and your mama was just a girl. I was pretty young myself, so that made the win even more special.” She hung the ribbon back in its place on the wall. “I was the youngest baker to win best in show. As of the year we left the Plains, I still held that record.”

It was no secret that Aunt Sunny was a master baker in her prime, and that she still loved to craft goodies for special occasions—her pumpkin roll at dinnertime was outstanding. Still, seeing a material representation of her accomplishments warmed my heart. It was a collection very few had ever seen; I was honored to be counted among them.

“That’s amazing, Aunt Sunny. Your blue ribbons are impressive.”

“Thank you, sweetheart—” she said. There was a clatter in the room outside the bedroom door; I recognized Todd’s boisterous cheers for the home team. They must have scored, because I heard Uncle Caleb’s happy approval. Aunt Sunny smiled upon hearing his voice. “It sounds like a good time to go say hi. What do you say, Destiny?”

“I’m ready,” I said.

“There is one more thing. His doctor told us, if he doesn’t remember or misstates something, that we should go along with him. Correcting him only agitates him. I don’t think he will, but if he gets mean, please don’t take it personally. It’s not Caleb, but the disease.” She searched my face for evidence that I understood, almost desperate for my acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Sunny. If it happens, I won’t take it personally.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. 

“Let’s go,” she said, cracking the door open. 

Right away, the sounds of the game filled the upstairs rooms. The bedroom opened up into a hallway and, at the end, a sizable family room with a larger screen television, a sofa, and two living chairs. Uncle Caleb was in his wheelchair beside Todd, who sat at the left end of the sofa with his right foot on the coffee table. Matching bookcases sat on either side of the screen, with a hanging lamp overhead and a small table lamp on the right side of the sofa. He heard footsteps behind him, then turned to see Aunt Sunny approaching. I thought he spotted me, but I wasn’t sure.

She walked to him and kissed his cheek. “I brought someone to see you, sweetheart,” she said. Todd lowered the volume on the television and stood to leave. Uncle Caleb’s eyes followed Todd as he left the room. That was when he saw me, but I wasn’t as ready as I thought.

“Who’s that?” he asked. Aunt Sunny motioned to me, so I approached. When she said he looked through them, as though he didn’t know them, I didn’t understand what she meant until that moment. She sat where Todd was, and motioned to me to join her, pointing at the living chair on Uncle Caleb’s left side. His gaze followed me as I entered the room, looking through me the whole time. 

“Hi, Uncle Caleb,” I said. “It’s—” I didn’t finish speaking before he interrupted me.

“Frannie!” He acted as though he wished to stand, but Aunt Sunny placed her hands on his arm and shook her head. “I haven’t seen you in years, young lady. How’s that husband of yours? Is he still overseas?” He reached for my hand and held onto it; his grip was firm, almost painful.

New tears stung my eyes; I didn’t know how to answer him. My voice was thin when I said, “No. Charlie’s been home for a while now.”

“That’s good,” he said. “When you talk to him, tell him I said hi, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“How old is that little red-headed girl now? What’s her name?” His stare was still vacant, and he spoke as though he referenced memories that were at least two decades old.

“Destiny, you mean?” I asked. The mention of my name seemed to trigger something inside him. He cocked his head and blinked three times before he smiled.

“Destiny! Yes!” My hand was still in his grip; he patted it as he repeated my name. “She had the prettiest red hair, just like you, Frannie.” He raised my hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on it. “How are you, sweet pea?” 

I didn’t know who he meant! Was he still talking to Mama, or did he finally recognize me? I glanced over at Aunt Sunny, who patted his shoulder. “This is Destiny, love. She came all the way from the city to see us.”

He shrugged away from her and grunted. “I know who she is, Sunny!” He shifted his attention back to me, looking more lucid than he had since we walked into the room. “I heard your song on the radio while I was resting earlier. You always had a knack for writing them.”

“Thank you, Uncle Caleb,” I said. “It’s so good to see you!” I leaned toward him and kissed his cheek.

He took my hand in his again, but this time his grip was gentle. He leaned in closer to me and spoke, taking his time to enunciate his words. Whatever he needed to say was important to him. 

“I can’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning,” he said, “or what I bought Sunny for our last anniversary. But I remember the day you were born, Destiny, as if it were yesterday. You were the answer to so many prayers that day. What an absolute joy you have been, not only for your folks, but for us, too. We cherished every moment we had with you.” He sat back in his chair with a brilliant smile. My intense gaze was trained on his face; I was hanging on his every word, not wanting to miss a moment. 

“I’ll tell you which memory is my favorite.” He leaned toward me again and lowered his voice. “Do you remember your debut at the chapel back in Appaloosa Plains?” He paused, awaiting my answer.

“Mmhmm, yes, I do, Uncle Caleb.”

“Your daddy didn’t realize what a powerful voice you had, even at the tender age of ten. When the service was over, he hobbled over to me—if you remember, he was using his crutches that day—and he wept. Destiny, I’d never seen your father cry before, but your performance moved him to tears. You know he was a tough military man, but you had him wrapped around your little finger.” Uncle Caleb paused to compose himself. “You and your mama were his two greatest loves. Whenever we talked, he always said how much he loved you both, and how blessed he was to be your daddy.”

“And your mama… girl, she wanted so badly to let you sing in the talent show that year. It broke her heart that she had to say no. There was never a more passionate cheerleader for you than that Frannie. She always asked us to pray for you, and I know she spent many hours on her knees begging God for the miracle that would bring your family into the city. Your mama wanted to see you succeed at any cost. Sunny and I were her backup plan in case she couldn’t convince you to stay focused on your future. If you ever doubt, Destiny, that your folks are proud of you, you can lay that to rest forever.”

“My only regret is that we didn’t watch you grow into the smart, beautiful, and talented young woman you’ve become. I always knew that voice would make you famous someday. You’ve made us all so proud.” Again, he raised my hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of my fingers. “I love you, Destiny.”

“I… love you… too,” I stuttered out, trying so hard not to choke on my words. “You’ve blessed me so much, Uncle Caleb. I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Give your career everything you have, and become the superstar we all know you are.” Uncle Caleb sniffled and removed a crisp, white handkerchief from his breast pocket; he dabbed his eyes with it and placed it into his lap. “That will be all the thanks I’ll ever need, sweetheart. I’ll tell your mama and daddy that you said hi when I see them.” 

Just then, the television blared louder than usual as the opposing team scored a goal. The sudden racket startled him, and when he looked back at me, any lucidness he possessed had slipped away. The blank expression was back, but this time, he didn’t even call me by Mama’s name. What he said was so much worse.

“Who the hell are you?” he suddenly shouted, his finger pointed straight at me, a gnarled and accusatory arrow quaking with rage and confusion. “What the hell are you doing here?” He fidgeted in his wheelchair, shouting profanities and growing more agitated, until Todd reappeared a moment later. 

“I’m here, Papa,” Todd said, sitting down beside Uncle Caleb. “Let’s just watch the game, okay?” Todd had a definite calming effect on Uncle Caleb; for a moment, I wished he could’ve had the same impact on me. Watching Uncle Caleb switch from cognizant and conversational to belligerent and bewildered was devastating. My heart shattered into pieces; his angry tirade left me trembling and close to tears. As much as I told myself I was okay, I wasn’t.

“Where were you? Why did you leave me with THESE strange people?” Uncle Caleb shouted, though Todd’s presence soothed him. Aunt Sunny rose and walked away, motioning for me to follow her. Even she was rattled by his quick turnabout. We both walked into her bedroom, and she gently closed the door behind us.

Time slowed to a crawl while Uncle Caleb’s life played in my memory. He’d always been such a gentle soul, nothing less than kind and courteous to Mama, Daddy or me. He helped me learn to ride the brand new bicycle Mama bought for me when I was five. When I stayed with them on the weekends, he read stories to me at bedtime and brought them to life using unique voices and funny mannerisms, and he always snuck an extra treat for me from Aunt Sunny’s cookie jar. Uncle Caleb never had much to say, but when he did, I listened because those words were filled with wisdom and love.

That day, they were filled with hatred and hostility. I never believed he was capable of such a thing, even in his compromised state.

Aunt Sunny’s jittery touch snapped me back to the present. Her tears began anew, and I joined right in with her. “I’m so sorry,” she said, wrapping her thin, frail arms around me. “I didn’t think he’d turn so quickly. He’s never been this bad before.”

I didn’t know what to say. It’s hard to separate the sickness from the man, and vice versa; in those first moments, I couldn’t tell which was which. My mind tried to define Uncle Caleb in terms of what I knew about him, muddled with what I’d just witnessed. All it did was create more emotion, which manifested in tears that slid down my face in record numbers.

Aunt Sunny continued to hold me as we cried together, whispering comforting words in my ear, and expressing her regret for putting me through all of this. I pulled away from her embrace, trying to self-soothe, and wiped tears from my eyes. “I’ll never be sorry I saw him again, Aunt Sunny, though I wasn’t prepared to see him like that. It was so much different from how I once knew him.”

“It’s difficult for us, too, sweet girl, and we see him every day. He isn’t always this combative. In fact, there are many days when he’s the same Caleb I fell in love with all those years ago. But on the bad days, we don’t recognize him anymore. I’m so sorry you had to see him on his worst day.” She sat on the side of her bed, looking utterly defeated. 

Trying to keep my chin up in the worst of circumstances, I eked out a fake smile. “I’d rather see him at his worst than not at all.” I didn’t know if Aunt Sunny bought the line of bull I tried to sell her; judging by her smile, she didn’t. I know I didn’t believe it. Passing it off as authentic was a long shot. Luckily for me, she knew the motives behind it.

“You’re not fooling me, Destiny. You’d have rather seen Caleb at his best.” She stood up and hugged me again, that brilliant, mischievous smile on her face. “I don’t want to end your visit on such a sour note, so if you’ll excuse me for a moment…” She opened the bedroom door and walked through it; the sounds of the game still blared on the television, but I heard no voices aside from ones on TV. Aunt Sunny reappeared a moment later, carrying a couple of small packages wrapped in seasonal paper, beautifully decorated with handmade bows and curl ribbons.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” she said, still holding the boxes in her arms. She pushed the button on the elevator; the door opened right away. “Caleb looks tired, and I think Lisa is going to nudge him back toward the bedroom. You don’t want to be here for that, sweetheart. Trust me.”

I nodded and stepped into the elevator with her.

When the door closed, I noticed Aunt Sunny’s floral, slightly sweet fragrance she had worn since before I was born. I also hadn’t noticed the colors inside the elevator matched the wallpaper she had in the house back home, the same wallpaper that covered one wall in their bedroom. While the lift moved safely from the second floor to the ground, the cozy nostalgia was welcomed, all things considered. 

Aunt Sunny noticed what must have been a pensive expression. “What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

“This little room, Aunt Sunny. It’s warm and inviting. Somehow, you’ve made an elevator seem cozy and beautiful.”

“Well, thank you, Destiny. I’ve always had what Caleb called a ‘knack’ for decorating. Sometimes, I miss having the old farmhouse. All of Caleb’s personal touches, the countless hours spent matching paints to rugs and linens.” Her face was wistful as she spoke. “We have many more days behind us than ahead, but it’s fun to remember the good times.” Her voice grew thin. “Good times with family and our dearest friends.” Aunt Sunny took my hand and patted it before we walked from the elevator back into the formal living room.

Jason and Junior still stood in the grand foyer—perhaps both of them resorted to perching on the steps instead of standing—making small talk about the weather and how the law firm was preparing for the upcoming holidays. Aunt Sunny led me to the sofa, where we sat together. She set the packages on the coffee table and made herself comfortable.

She leaned to her right until she saw Junior’s loafers in the hallway. “Cale!” she called him. The sound of quick footsteps approached. Junior ran his hand through the thick, somewhat disheveled head of platinum blond hair.

“Do you need something, Mama?”

Aunt Sunny nodded, motioning for him to bend forward. She winked at me, then turned to whisper something into Junior’s ear. They spoke in hushed tones for a few seconds before he turned on his heel and left.

“You must be wondering why I have these packages for you, Destiny. I really wasn’t expecting you until after the new year, which is why they weren’t waiting for you under the tree with the other gifts.” She picked up the top box, one that was of average size and flat, one whose size betrayed its heft. “It isn’t much, but I know you’ll love them just the same.” She handed the first package to me. I couldn’t guess what was inside. “Go ahead and open it.”

I couldn’t speak; the words that formed in my throat struggled to pass the gigantic boulder that seemed to live there. Aunt Sunny wiped tears from her eyes as she watched my composure fade away. With shaky hands, I unraveled the ribbons she’d tied, my tears dripping onto the paper. Without asking if I needed it—anyone could see I did—she steadied the package while my fingers fiddled with her perfect wrapping. Little by little, the torn paper revealed a box, something that held an item of great importance.

I took a deep breath and slipped the box open. Inside was what looked like a scrapbook. It had a hard wooden cover with three enormous rings that held the pages inside. The letter “B” in a fancy script was etched on the front cover. Underneath the “B” was written, in the same decorative script, the words “The Bradfords.”

She scooted closer to me as I opened the front cover. Inside were pictures of the entire Bradford family. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen photos of the children, but these were of the family when the kids were pre-teens and younger. The one conspicuously absent was Maya.

Aunt Sunny traced with a long, slender finger, the first photo in the book. A lean, shorter, much younger version of Junior sat next to Aunt Sunny. Uncle Caleb held a young toddler in his arms, a boy with his brown hair and freckles. A child of eight or nine—a girl with Aunt Sunny’s blonde hair—stood next to Uncle Caleb. All of them were dressed in their Sunday best for the picture (for Uncle Caleb, it meant blue jeans that weren’t faded and a new flannel shirt.)

“Look, Destiny, at my beautiful family.” She pointed at the blonde girl and smiled. “That’s my Kristen. We had a little trouble conceiving her, but she was more than worth the fuss.” Her fingers traced Junior’s outline on the page. “You already know my firstborn son. I couldn’t be any prouder of him, or any of my kids. They all married well, and they have beautiful families.”

I’d heard much about Kristen Bradford Cochrane. Married for nearly twenty years to her college sweetheart, Keith, she had three children—two boys and a girl—and chose to stay home with them. Her husband was a marketing analyst for a startup firm in Meadow Glen, a relatively new settlement on the river south of Appaloosa Plains. Even as a child, she favored Aunt Sunny in looks. 

Thomas, or Tommy as the family called him, was the youngest Bradford until Maya’s birth five years later. He had his father’s brunette hair and squared facial features. He carried on Uncle Caleb’s craft and, at forty-five, was a master carpenter. Tommy and his beautiful, raven-haired wife, Alyssa, lived in rural Winchester with their four children; two girls and twin boys in the middle. As a toddler, cuddled up in Uncle Caleb’s arms, he was absolutely his father’s boy.

Doctor Maya Bradford-Mitchell, with her husband Clayton, opened a veterinary practice in Hidden Springs shortly after graduation from Sim State. Their original plan was to return to Clay’s hometown of Aurora Skies, but high real estate prices and taxes chased them to Hidden Springs in the western part of the Mainland. Maya, now almost forty herself, had three children—all boys—and a successful livestock veterinary practice. Clay specialized in veterinary orthopedics, shared with Maya’s work mainly in farm animals.

Aunt Sunny flipped the page to the next set of family photos. This time, each Bradford child had grown up five years. This time, it was Aunt Sunny that held a brand new baby girl. Tommy stood next to Uncle Caleb, while the older two stood behind them. Each page that turned, I watched as their children grew into adults in the photos she’d lovingly arranged. She told stories with each photo, reliving her memories before my eyes. Every page was like experiencing living history. I was honored to have the book she’d crafted.

She placed that scrapbook onto the coffee table and lifted the next package, similar to the first one, and handed it to me. The sizes were identical, as were the weights. I’d already imagined this next gift would also be a photo scrapbook, but I really didn’t know the scope of it. I wasn’t prepared for it.

Neither of us spoke while my fingers untied her beautiful wrapping and ribbons. The paper came off, and I slid the box apart. Another book, identical except for the cover, was inside. This one was inscribed with the letter “F,” with the words “The Farmers” below it. Without seeing the first page, the lump in my throat returned with a vengeance. Swallowing had never done any good, and I’d have been foolish to think it would this time.

Aunt Sunny smiled, flipping the book’s wooden cover open to the first page. The first photo was a young girl, maybe pre-teen, bearing a resemblance to Mama, with stunning red hair and emerald green eyes. With her was an older woman with the same flame hair, and a burly man sporting a full beard and deep blue eyes. My mouth hung open as my fingers traced the image on the page. 

“Is that—” I started to ask, but Aunt Sunny nodded, interrupting my train of thought.

“That’s the last known photo of your grandfather Hutchins. Jake was always a little photo shy and much preferred his shiny Penny to be the subject of his favorite photos. And that beautiful little girl they had together, of course, was your mama.” I was stunned to see how much like Mama I looked at that age. No wonder everyone called me her mirror image. Tears welled in my eyes.

“We looked so much alike,” I said, trying to stop the inevitable droplets from spilling onto Aunt Sunny’s masterpiece. “She always said I took after Daddy.” 

Aunt Sunny took my hand in hers and patted it. “Oh, no, Destiny. You are your mother’s duplicate, from the curly red hair to the mannerisms you share with her. Sure, you have your daddy’s chin, and no one knows where you got those gorgeous eyes, but you’re Frannie from fifty years ago.” She turned a few pages to pictures she wanted me to see. The center photo was Daddy in his military uniform, with Mama standing at his side in her boots and jeans. Their pose was tender, but wrought with sadness. Was this the last photo before his final deployment? Who would’ve taken it? I always thought they’d been alone in the moments just before he left.

“This picture, Aunt Sunny. Who took it, and when?” 

“This one, sweetheart, was taken before the big war. You were too little to remember this, but your mama and I were planning a birthday party for him when he received his orders to report. Caleb did a few candids with them before he left. This is just one of them. The pages beyond this are full of similar pictures.”

Aunt Sunny was right. I flipped through the pages, gawking at the beautiful pictures of my parents trying to make the best of a terrible situation. The most poignant of the pictures was one of all three of us (Aunt Sunny was right about that, too; I was much too young to remember any of them.) Uncle Caleb had us posed sitting on the loveseat that once sat by the window in the old farmhouse. I wore a little green dress that had belonged to Mama as a toddler, while she and Daddy wore their better “kicking around the house” clothes. Through the painted-on smile they both wore was the palpable fear and sadness. I didn’t know the circumstances of that deployment. They never spoke of it, and I never asked.

“I know Daddy didn’t like being away from us, Aunt Sunny, but this was different. That much is clear. What were they going through, because it’s obvious they were in pain?” 

Aunt Sunny took a deep breath and clenched her jaw. “Your daddy was a higher rank in the military, which was why he needed to go, despite his desperate attempts to stay. Your mama always said his rank put a bullseye on his back, and she lived in constant fear of that knock at the door. Until the one day it really happened, the day they told her he was missing in action. He knew, and she knew, that his chances to come home were slim, but she put on a brave face, almost certain she was sending him to die in some foreign country. It nearly killed her when he didn’t come home.” 

She placed her hand on the book, as though she drew strength from it somehow. “You won’t see any pictures of your mama in her darkest hours, Destiny. Caleb refused to capture those memories for her, and I didn’t blame him. We were all devastated when we believed your daddy had died.”

Hearing the real story of Daddy’s last deployment took my breath away. Even knowing the outcome didn’t ease the shock. How did Mama cope with thinking Daddy wouldn’t come home? A huge part of me was grateful I couldn’t remember those things. My only memories of him from my early childhood were hearing his voice on the phone, the casket at his funeral, and seeing him for the first time when he came home. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, sweetheart.” Aunt Sunny hugged me, patting and rubbing my back. “We all know how their love story ended, thankfully. And in reality, it isn’t even over, because you’re the product of their everlasting love, Destiny.”

“They’ll never be forgotten as long as I’m alive,” I said. “The same goes for you and Uncle Caleb, too.” Speaking those words brought me back to the reality I faced, saying goodbye to Aunt Sunny. I turned the pages that remained in the book; all of them were sweet, long forgotten memories. With the last page turned and the book closed, I set it on the table with the other one. One package remained, though with the heartfelt gifts she’d already given me, I couldn’t imagine what this last one contained. She must have read my thoughts—or she just knew me that well—because she smiled, reaching for the last gift.

“I saved this one for last, Destiny, for a reason. You’ll know why when you see it.” Aunt Sunny lifted the last box from the coffee table and handed it to me. It was smaller in size and weight than the two scrapbooks. I’ll admit, she had me pretty stumped. I shook it a little, listening for a telltale rattling—there was nothing. 

“What could you possibly have up your sleeve, Aunt Sunny? You’ve already outdone yourself.”

She said nothing, instead offering a smile as she watched my composure fade away. With shaky hands, I unraveled the ribbons she’d tied, my tears dripping onto the paper. Little by little, the torn paper revealed the gift, but I wasn’t prepared for the enormity of it.

A wooden frame, whose craftsmanship I recognized as Uncle Caleb’s, enclosed a matted portrait of Mama and Daddy holding a tiny baby, looking so in love with the child they held. It took no time to realize that baby was me, their Snowflake Day miracle. It was a photo I’d never seen before. My free hand covered my gaping mouth, disguising the tremble of my bottom lip; nothing could hide the deluge of tears that were coming, and coming fast they were.

“Where did that picture come from, Aunt Sunny? I’ve never seen it before.” 

“Caleb took it. He was always the photographer in the family. I found all of the pictures in a box from Appaloosa Plains we packed away and forgot about until six months ago. I knew this picture needed to be with you from the first moment I saw it. Your mama and daddy might not have seen that one, either. Our move was so sudden, we didn’t have time to sort through everything. Had I remembered it, they would have had it.” 

“I can’t thank you enough for everything, Aunt Sunny. Mama would be thrilled to know these pictures exist, and even more that I have them. What a beautiful gift.”

Her eyes sparkled alongside a coy smile. “I have one more surprise up my sleeve, sweet girl.” Aunt Sunny stood. “I’ll be right back. You just stay right here.” I nodded and chuckled to myself. Where was I really going to go?

A few moments later, Aunt Sunny returned with a wicker basket hanging on her arm, lined with a festive calico print cloth and filled to the brim with wrapped goodies. I couldn’t see what they were until she got closer, and she presented the basket to me. 

“Destiny, when your mama and I worked the farmer’s market every year, each morning started for her—for us, really—with a hot cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin, just like these. Every morning, she tried to buy one from me, and every morning, I gave her one, but not just any muffin. I chose the best one from the batch and set it aside for her. To me, it was just a pastry. But to your mama, it was a symbol of everything she said I went above and beyond to do for her.”

“The reality was, Destiny, that I loved your mama like she was my sister, and I treated her like she was. Caleb and I never kept track of anything we did for your mama, because to me, she was family, just as much as my brothers were. It was one of the things we loved most—and miss the most—about Appaloosa Plains. Everyone was a friend. We all grew up together, and our kids grew up together. We all attended the same little church and shopped in the same little markets. As much as we like it here, Twinbrook will never be home.” 

She set the basket down on the table, then turned to face me. “Promise me, Destiny, that you won’t forget your roots run deep in Appaloosa Plains. Your folks wanted you to see the world, but they didn’t want you to forget where you came from.” She hugged me close to her in a stronger than expected embrace. “I love you like my own flesh and blood, Destiny, and I’ll know you’ll do us proud.”

“I promise I will do everything I can to bring honor to all of you. To our home and our family.” There was one last thing I needed to know before I left her embrace for good. It was trivial, yes, but I couldn’t leave without asking her. She was among the only people who could answer my question, but I wanted the answer from her lips. “Aunt Sunny? Can I ask you one last question?”

“Of course you can, Destiny. What’s on your mind?” 

“I’ve always wanted to know. What is your real name?”

“I’ve expected you to ask this before now.” The light danced in her eyes as she laughed, and then she answered my burning question. “Susannah,” she said. “My real name is Susannah. Sunny was a childhood nickname that stuck with me for my entire life.”

“Do you like the name Sunny?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t imagine being called anything else.” 

My gaze shifted toward the front door. Jason waited for me, though he said I could take all the time I needed. I also knew I couldn’t prolong the inevitable. “I… I should go. Jason is waiting for me.”

Sunny stepped toward me again, her firm, but soft hug enveloping me. “I understand.” She placed a kiss on my cheek and pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes one last time. “I love you, Destiny. Never forget it.”

“Never, Aunt Sunny. I love you, too.” I tried to swallow back the emotional wrecking ball, but it was no use. “Thank you for everything. I will always remember you and Uncle Caleb as long as I’m alive.”

“It’s been my honor to know you and your family. Be prosperous and stay true to yourself. Plant good fruit, and you will harvest what you plant.” She gave me one last hug, then walked toward the foyer where Jason and Junior were still talking. Both of them hushed as we approached. “Don’t be a stranger, Jason,” she said, walking to him and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for my gift.” Aunt Sunny glanced at Junior and Jason, a smile pulling across her face. “Both of you.”

Jason wrapped Aunt Sunny in a hug. “I’ll see you after the new year.” He reached out to Junior and shook hands. “Happy Snowflake Day to all of you.”

“To you, too, Jason,” Junior said. 

“Thank you,” I said, “for your hospitality. I’ll never forget it.” Aunt Sunny rubbed my back as I spoke, which only made things worse. She handed me the basket of muffins and hugged me one last time.

“Remember what we talked about,” Aunt Sunny whispered into my ear. “I love you, sweet girl.” 

“I love you, too, Aunt Sunny.” Jason took my gifts from my arms, afraid that I’d drop them, and then took my arm to lead me outside. We got to the threshold at the front door; I turned around one last time, but said nothing. Aunt Sunny blew a kiss, which really didn’t help. I was on the verge of an ugly cry, but I hoped I’d be away from the family when it happened.

Aunt Sunny watched from the doorway as we got into Jason’s pickup and closed the doors. Jason said nothing; I said nothing. He put the truck in reverse and pulled backward from the driveway into the road. Aunt Sunny waved, watching Jason pull away from the Bradford home. I waved back until he turned the corner at the end of their street, when I could no longer see the house.

The silence on the way home was stark; Jason spotted the basket that sat between us on the bench seat. “Did Sunny make some of her famous muffins for you, sweetheart?” I sniffled back more tears. Jason took my hand while we sat at the stop sign. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how difficult that was for you.”

Leaving Aunt Sunny was as bad as losing Mama and Daddy, except that she still lived. How do you grieve someone who isn’t gone? I suspected Jason knew the answer to that question if I asked him. Instead, I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, exhausted by the day’s emotions. Every once in a while, he’d glance my way and give me his ‘Dad’ smile as he drove home. He knew I was hurting; it was a familiar pain for him, too. After all, he grieved Mama for almost twenty years before he knew she’d passed.

An hour later, Jason pulled into the driveway and turned the ignition off. Before he opened the door, he took my hand in his. “Destiny, I know you’ve had an emotional day. Why don’t you just rest tonight? Tomorrow’s our last day together before you go home, and I have something special in store for you.” He tipped my face up to meet his gaze. “How’s that sound?”

I nodded, grateful that he understood. “Thank you, Dad, for understanding. I’m drained.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. Lay down for a while, and if you feel good enough later, you can join me in the living room.” He kissed my forehead and took the basket of muffins from the seat. “I’ll put these away for you.”

“Thank you again. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Destiny. Get some rest.” He waited for me to jump down from the truck’s cab; we walked in together. Jason grabbed Kota’s leash, but I made a beeline for my bedroom. I don’t remember washing my face or brushing my teeth, and I’m not sure how I got undressed. Every emotion I tried to bottle during the day poured out of me in a deluge of tears. I climbed into bed and sobbed until I fell asleep.

---

“Snowflake Day”

The next morning started my last full day in Twinbrook with Jason. We’d been on-the-go since I’d gotten there; I was ready to spend time at home with him and Kota. The skies were overcast and gray with the threat of heavy snow looming over us. Breakfast—specifically coffee—was the first aroma I noticed. In the kitchen, the rattling of dishes, pots, and pans declared Jason was busy cooking something, but the smell of fresh coffee was the only scent in the morning air. 

The ambient temperature in my bedroom was chillier than in previous mornings, and I was cold. Outside the window, the wind howled through the trees along the bayou, which made it feel nippier. When I got up from bed, I wrapped myself up in my robe and stepped into matching slippers. The adjoining bathroom was first on my list of priorities. An icy toilet seat—one of my biggest pet peeves—was the rudest awakening of all. At least the water from the sink was warm when I washed my hands and face. The reflection staring back at me showed a tired woman of barely twenty-four with severe bedhead. Though I could do nothing about the tiredness, a brush run through my hair improved its appearance. I turned out the light and shuffled back into my bedroom.

Kota greeted me with his characteristic body wags when I opened the bedroom door. A blast of warm air enveloped me with my first steps into the hallway. Instantly, his paws clattered on the wooden floor, increasing in intensity, along with a whining cry that displayed his growing excitement. “Hi, Kota,” I said, reaching to scratch behind his ears. The racket his half-barking created alerted Jason to my state of wakefulness. He was there in an instant.

“Hey Destiny,” Jason said. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early. We had a busy, exhausting day yesterday.” While what he said was true, I’ve functioned with less sleep on a regular basis.

“Nature calls,” I said, shivering in the toasty atmosphere outside my room. “It feels good out here.”

Jason stuck his head inside the room, then wrinkled his nose. “I wish you’d have said something, Destiny. I could’ve gotten another blanket or two for your bed.” A quick look out the sliding glass door revealed beautiful etchings of frost and ice; beyond that was another snowy sky, though it was only flurries. “I forget the room can get chilly when the wind comes off the bayou. Don’t let me forget tonight, okay?” I nodded, running my fingers through my hair. “I mean it!” Jason said with a chuckle.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll warm up once I get some coffee.” He put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me. Only one more morning left to wake up here with him. Where did that time go so quickly? “I heard you in the kitchen. Is coffee ready?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I was getting supper ready to put into the oven.” He kissed my forehead. “Happy Snowflake Day!”

That sneak! I thought to myself. Though I had to admit, his little scheme was brilliant! Since we couldn’t spend the actual holiday together, Jason moved it up a couple of days. After all, there were no edicts or laws stating we HAD to celebrate Snowflake Day on December twenty-fifth. It was good being with my family, even if it wasn’t the exact day.

“Happy Snowflake Day,” I said in return. 

“I hope you like turkey,” he said. It wasn’t a large bird, but it was more than enough for him to have leftovers for a week. I recognized the aroma of Mama’s sage stuffing as Jason scooped spoonfuls of it into the bird’s cavity. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll pull the muffins from the fridge and warm them. They’ll be better with the chill off of them, don’t you think?”

I nodded, still feeling a bit chilled myself. “Everything is better warm,” I said. “Myself included! Is there a fire going?”

“Not yet,” Jason said. “Feel free to start one if you’d like. I’m almost done with this thing.” He had a small dish of melted butter seasoned with herbs and spices. Jason dipped a brush into the butter mixture and painted it onto the turkey’s skin, covering every exposed inch of it. Then, he flipped the bird onto its breast and painted the back with the same butter concoction. “I always roast my turkey—and chicken, for that matter—breast side down. It keeps the meat nice and juicy as it cooks.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of that before, but I’m definitely going to try it the next time I cook a chicken at home!” Jason nodded, then went back to his work. I took a mug from his cupboard and filled it to the brim with fresh coffee. My fingers curled around the mug as I padded into the living room. I needed to clean out the residue from last evening’s fire. My coffee mug sat on the table next to his ceramic tree while I scooped up ashes from the fireplace. Then, I stacked wood onto the grate with some paper wadded up underneath the kindling, struck a match and touched it to the paper. Kota had followed me into the living room to supervise my fire-making skills. I gave him a scratch behind his ears and sat on the sofa with my coffee in my hands.

I was still shivering cold when Jason came back carrying two blueberry muffins and his own cup of coffee. He handed one to me, then joined me on the sofa. He noticed my body trembling from the chill almost instantly.

“Would you like a blanket?” he said.

I was going to decline, figuring the fireplace would warm the room. But I knew Jason, too. Once he got an idea into his head, there was no convincing him otherwise. 

“Sure,” I said in return. “My feet are ice cubes.”

“I’ll be right back.” Jason stood and walked to the utility room across from my bedroom, the one that housed his washer and dryer, spare linens, and other odds and ends. His footsteps walked into my room—I decided that was his first stop according to the sounds coming from that direction—and then to me, carrying a colorful, hand-crocheted afghan. He didn’t offer the blanket to me; instead, he shook the folds from the throw and placed it over me. It appeared to be lightweight when he held it, but I discovered the blanket was quite thick and cozy.

“My mother made that for me when I got married years ago. She never had much use for Tia. Tia was my wife before I met your mama. She left me for someone else while I was deployed.” He took a sip of coffee, then set the mug down on the coffee table. “I should’ve listened to Mom. Turns out she was right all along.” He handed me a muffin from the platter he brought to the living room. Jason peeled the paper from his and picked a small bite from it.

“Thank you,” I said. I followed suit on what Jason had done, peeling the muffin paper from it and taking a bite. This was no ordinary blueberry muffin, and I recognized the difference from every other one I’d ever tried; Aunt Sunny’s recipe had something citrusy in it. Lemon? A bit of orange zest? I couldn’t really tell until I got a burst of lemon flavor. It was the best blueberry muffin I’d ever had. No wonder Mama loved them so much.

“Sometimes, I wish Mama was still here to give me advice about men,” I said. “Maybe I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes with them.”

“Whenever you need me, Destiny, I’m here. You can bounce ideas off me anytime. As a bonus, I’ll mess up anyone who tries to hurt you again.” He gave me a cheeky smile while flexing his arm. “I might be an ancient poo-air, but I can still spar with the best of them.”

“Ancient poo-air?” I said, laughing. “What in the world is that?!”

“Old fart.” His impish expression had me rolling. I’d never heard that term before!

We continued to chat while we ate our breakfast and sipped coffee. The first telltale sign of supper roasting in the oven permeated the house. Kota curled up in the dog bed to the left of the fireplace, sound asleep and peaceful, except for an occasional whimper. Jason got up to put another log in the fireplace, then excused himself. I assumed he was heading for the bathroom. Five minutes later, he returned with a few gifts in his arms.

“I, um,” he said, stuttering. “I did a thing.” He placed the packages in front of me on the coffee table. I wasn’t expecting that.

“You shouldn’t have,” I said. “I have nothing for you!”

“Destiny, the only gift I need this year is you. You being here has made this my best holiday since I left Appaloosa Plains. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

It wasn’t often I didn’t have words; Mama had often told me I was the biggest motormouth in all of Appaloosa Plains. But Jason’s heartfelt words rendered me speechless. “I-I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Jason said. “It isn’t much. Just a few things I thought you might like.” He noticed my empty coffee cup, and, without asking, took it to refill it. It had been a long time since someone waited on me. This was my last morning of free time, so I took advantage.

“Thank you,” I said when he returned with my mug, filled with hot coffee. He fixed it just how I liked it too, as proven by my first sip. It was perfect. He resumed his place next to me on the sofa with his own fresh cup of coffee. He was antsy, waiting for me to reach for the first package to open, but being so polite about it when I didn’t. That was until he couldn’t bear to wait another second.

“Are you going to open those, or are you going to make me crazy with anticipation?” There was playful laughter in his voice as he teased me. He picked up a small, cube-shaped box and handed it to me. “This one’s first, but by all means, take your time!” 

That made me laugh out loud, and I almost spat a mouthful of coffee. 

“Yes,” I giggled. “I’ll open this one first, Dad.” I side-glanced at him and gave him a playful stink-eye. My coffee cup waited for me on the end table while I fiddled with the paper on a beautifully wrapped gift. It was small but dense, weighing about a pound (deceptively heavy for such a small box) and had a strange rattling sound when jostled. Jason had wrapped it in fancy paper with a small bow on the front. I didn’t recall seeing anything like this one under the tree, though I suspected the ones he had there were for decoration.

I took my time opening the box to draw out Jason’s anticipation. There was lighthearted ribbing and fake exasperation during the opening process. I took it in stride, and Jason did, too, while I uncovered the first of three gifts he’d laid on the table. It took so long that I huffed a lock of hair from my eyes and tore the paper clean off. Under the wrapping was a sturdy cardboard box. Another quick shake emitted the same weird rattle. I couldn’t guess what was in this box.

The box closed with a flap tucked inside, not unlike a standard gift box. I worked the flap open and peeked inside. Whatever it was had tissue paper wrapped around it, so I removed it to reveal a heavy wooden box with a hinged lid. Strange… It looked much like Mama’s recipe box I had at home. It didn’t dawn on me what its contents could be until I flipped it open.

The wooden box contained dozens of cards—in Jason’s handwriting—of Mama’s old recipes, most of which I thought were gone forever. Right in front was the cinnamon roll recipe, along with her roasted chicken recipe, and Nana Hutchins’s pecan pie recipe. Having them in Jason’s impeccable penmanship was priceless. Of the fifty recipes in the box, only two were duplicates of ones I had at home. Some of them I’d never seen before that day, but most were long-forgotten, cherished recipes that Mama had given Jason at some point. I flipped through the cards, tears free-flowing down my cheeks. 

“Are you surprised, sweetheart?” Jason said. Was I ever!

“You could say that,” I said in return, sniffling happy tears. “Did Mama give you all of these?”

Jason nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “I got to thinking when we talked the other day about the recipes. Though I’m not ready to let go of the ones she wrote by hand for me, there’s no reason you need to wait to have them. I promise when it’s time, Destiny, you’ll get all the originals back.”

I dabbed my eyes with the sleeve of my robe. He must have taken time to copy all the recipes, and he’d done it since I’d been there. But when? We’d spent almost every waking moment together. That didn’t matter; the box I held in my hands was precious to me, and I could never express my utter gratitude. “This is exceptional, Dad. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Princess. That isn’t the only one.” He gestured toward two more boxes on the coffee table where he’d left them. “Take your time, but hurry up!” He chuckled, then set his coffee mug on the side table.

“I guess I drew it out long enough on the first package. I won’t torture you again.” Jason made a funny face, and I stuck my tongue out at him. He picked up a pillow and swatted me with it; we looked at one another and burst out laughing. We were SO immature, but it felt good to laugh with him. Both boxes were the same size and, I guessed, weight. “Which one first, or does it matter?”

“Top one first,” he said. “There’s a method to my madness, I promise.”

“Sure,” I said. Flat and heavy, the package was deceptive in its weight. Once again, I couldn’t imagine what was inside. I refrained from the slow paper-tearing in favor of going right for the goods. The paper tore easily, slipping my fingers under flaps and ripping it from the box. The cardboard container looked makeshift and homemade. Jason’s eyes sparkled as I revealed the second of three gifts he had for me. One more tug and the flaps on the box gave way. From the start, it looked like a scrapbook. A peek inside the cover confirmed it.

The book started with photos of me when I was three or four years old. They were pictures I’d never seen before; it was obvious Jason was the photographer. Page after page revealed memories I’d long forgotten, not to mention Jason’s surprising, creative side. Each page was beautiful in its theme, photo placement, and design. 

“Do you like it?” he said. Jason was excited to hear my reaction to it. In reality, I loved it so much, he’d rendered me speechless again. I discovered he had a knack for that, too.

“Oh, Dad, I love it so much!” I continued flipping through the pages until I reached one with photos of all three of us; Jason, Mama and me doing fun things together. There was one with me riding his shoulders, and Mama holding his hand while we walked around the summer festival. I couldn’t imagine who’d taken it until I turned to the next page and saw one with Aunt Sunny, Mama and me. Uncle Caleb must have taken the pictures that Jason hadn’t. Most of the photos I didn’t remember. “This is an amazing gift. Thank you!”

He wiped a tear from his eyes. “You probably figured the second one is another book, and you’d be right to assume it. But it’s much different from the first one. You’ll see.” He gathered the wrapping paper into a wad and set it beside him, then handed me the last gift. “I think you’ll love this one the most.”

I smiled at him when he handed me the book. This time, I couldn’t unwrap it fast enough, eager to see more photos and Jason’s stunning creativity. But this book wasn’t pictures of all of us; no, these pictures were strictly Jason and Mama, and some of Mama by herself. I didn’t remember a single one of them. At the very end of the scrapbook was a photo of a ring with an enormous diamond, set in a traditional six-prong setting, sitting amongst a bouquet of delicate pink roses and baby’s breath. I set the book down in my lap and covered my face with my hands. I knew what it was, and I knew the reason it was the last photo in the book. It made the whole project all the more poignant.

“That was…?” I couldn’t get the words out.

Jason nodded. “I bought that ring for her the day before your dad showed up in the diner. I was flying high, so excited to propose, and then it never came to fruition. The picture was taken that night, capturing the delicate hue of the roses and the sparkle of the newly bought ring. The next one was supposed to be of her hand wearing it, and mine with hers. I had it all planned out in my mind…”

“Is this the only copy you have of the picture?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I don’t understand, Dad. Why do you want me to have this?”

Jason sighed and placed his hands on mine. “I have my reasons, which I’m not ready to reveal. I think,” he said, “I’m just ready to move on from that photo. There are many others that evoke warm memories of her and me. I won’t miss that one for long.”

I really didn’t know what to say. The magnitude of the gift—and the emotion behind it—brought me to tears. “This means so much to me,” I said between the sniffles. “Thank you.”

Jason put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

*****

Jason’s holiday supper was ready just before three o’clock. He made enough to last a month in leftovers, but I’m sure he didn’t mind. Aside from a turkey, he cooked Mama’s sage dressing, a savory giblet gravy, homemade cranberry sauce, baked sweet and white potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts and candied carrots. Instead of baking a dessert, he’d decided on cinnamon rolls, warmed up with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. Everything he cooked was exceptional, almost as though a professional chef had prepared it. 

After supper, we cleaned the kitchen together and packed his freezer with leftovers. He had containers that held enough for a supper plate’s worth of food. He explained as we cleaned that he often cooked a big meal, intending to freeze portions of it for a later time. What a genius idea! Doing the same at home would allow me to eat healthier, home-cooked meals without fussing every night. It was something I hadn’t thought to do, but I guessed since Jason was a confirmed bachelor, he did this on the regular.

It was five o’clock when we settled back into the living room. Jason threw another couple of logs onto the fire and joined me on the sofa. We were quiet for a few moments until I saw his face light up and a smile pull across it. He patted my foot—which was still icy cold—and leaned closer to me.

“I have an idea!” he said.

“Do you now?”

“Uh huh. How about playing a board game? I have a bunch to pick from, too.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played a game with anyone, but I knew it had to be at least ten years ago, when Mama and Daddy were still alive. “Do you have Scrabble?” It was one of the games I excelled at back home. Either that, or Daddy let me win all the time.

“I do!” Jason hopped up from the sofa. “They’re upstairs in my bedroom in that chest. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared outside and up the steps. I took the opportunity to warm myself a little bit in front of the fire. I still had the chill from the morning; it didn’t seem as though it was going anywhere, either. Less than a minute later, the sliding door opened, and Jason stepped through it, covered in huge, clumpy snowflakes. “It’s freaking cold out there,” he said and shook the snow from his hair. “I hope it doesn’t snow all night, or you might be stuck here another day.”

I wouldn’t have minded staying until after the holiday was over, but there was the whole New Year’s eve show to consider. “Ernie will kill me if that happens. Maybe it won’t snow.”

“Let’s pray it doesn’t for your sake, though you know I won’t mind if you stay here until Snowflake Day, sweetheart.”

“I know.” I didn’t want to think about leaving in the morning, so I took the game from him. “Are you ready to cower in defeat to my word prowess?” I flexed my arm and gave him a duck-lipped expression. After a second or two of holding the pose, we busted up with laughter.

“You think you’re going to beat the Scrabble master, eh?” Jason said. “We’ll see about that, young lady!”

The battle of words was on!

Around midnight, at the end of our fifth game—we’d played a best-of-five set—Jason emerged victorious. He was ruthless with word formation and placement, and he knew how to use every available space for maximum points. I was impressed. He only managed to eke out a win by ten points, but it was still a victory. Jason was a gracious winner, but I expected nothing different from him. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood to stretch. 

“We should get to bed,” he said, peering through the frosted pane of glass. “It stopped snowing, at least. I put a couple of thick, warm blankets in your room. Don’t be shy; if you’re cold, please cover up.”

“I’ll put at least one on the bed. I haven’t been able to warm up all day.”

“Kota comes upstairs with me at bedtime. Why don’t you leave your door open, sweetheart? That room gets frigid when the wind is blowing off the water. You’re on the windward side of the house in that room, too.”

I nodded. “I’ll do that, thanks.” My back ached from sitting in one spot for too long; when I stood, the pain was a cruel reminder. I couldn’t help but groan. “Ouch.”

“Sat too long, eh?” he said, to my silent, affirmative gesture. “Wait until you get to be my age!” He chuckled, walking toward the front door. “Kota!” The dog answered Jason’s call, cantering to his side. “Goodnight, princess,” he said. “Great games tonight. Thank you.”

“Thank you!” I said. “Goodnight, Dad.” Jason opened the front door, and directed Kota outside. The door slid shut, and the dog barked. I imagined him darting off into the fresh snow, barking like a maniac, and Jason laughing at him. I padded toward the bedroom and closed the door before changing into my flannel pajamas. My body ached from the cold and fatigue, so I postponed my plans to pack before bed. Tomorrow was another day, after all. I walked to the bathroom, gave my teeth a quick brush, splashed some warm water on my face and patted it dry. When I climbed into bed, I didn’t remember falling asleep.

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Departure Day

The sound of chattering teeth woke me a few hours later. Though the wind had died down, the chill in the air persisted. I got up and groaned from the ache that had settled into my muscles. It was the first sign that something wasn’t right. I chalked it up to being cold for an entire day. Though it was 4:13 in the morning, I walked to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as I could tolerate. The steamy water stung my skin as I stepped under the spray, but the fine mist droplets the showerhead created still felt cold. 

I took my time under the cascading water, praying I’d warm up enough to function. The last of the shampoo from my travel-sized bottle dribbled into my palm; its familiar apple scent quickly lathered. When I was done scrubbing my scalp, I lifted my face to the water spray and let it rinse the soapsuds from my ginger locks. I stayed in so long trying to warm up, the water temperature was cool by the time I stepped from the bathtub. I hoped Jason didn’t plan a hot shower anytime soon, or he’d be disappointed. 

The air in the bedroom was still nippy; my arms sprouted goosebumps immediately, but the chill was different. The longer I sat around in my wet towel, the more I noticed the familiar feeling of malaise. I told myself that the nasal timbre that accompanies illness can improve a singing voice. My New Year’s Eve show hung in the balance if I couldn’t pull myself together.

I pulled a warm sweater from the dresser and laid it on the bed. The weather would be awful on both ends of the trip, and by awful, I meant bitter cold. Starlight Shores was forecast to be at a seasonal low, and Twinbrook was no better. I rifled through the drawer until I found the turtleneck I wore under the sweater and set it on the bed. My jeans would have to be enough for my bottom half. Even if I had my thermals with me, they wouldn’t have fit under my skin-tight jeans. They were a little more snug than I remembered. Jason was a phenomenal cook; I guessed I’d gained a pound or two since I’d been there.

After I got dressed, I pulled the rest of my clothing from the dresser and a dress from the closet to bring home. I refolded what was clean and put dirty things into a plastic bag I’d packed from home. By six-thirty, my suitcase was packed and ready to go. The bedroom seemed empty already, though Mama’s presence remained. I padded over to the bedroom door and opened it. The warmer air from inside the main house enveloped me and made me shiver. 

Jason wasn’t awake, or if he was, he wasn’t downstairs yet. My flight out of Twinbrook’s municipal airport wasn’t until after 1 PM, so I had some time. I ventured out into the living room, cleaned out the hearth and prepped it for a fire, crumpling the previous day’s newspaper into a wad, then placing some kindling, and a couple of bigger logs. That would only last two or three hours, which was perfect. Besides, I was still shivering, and as the morning wore on, the body aches increased. Dammit! I thought. I don’t have time to be sick!

There was a faint bark upstairs, and some commotion that followed it. Kota was awake, and likely needed to go outside. That meant Jason would be up. I decided to surprise him with a pot of fresh coffee, but the surprise ended when he trudged down the steps slower than Kota’s excited prancing. The door slid open, Jason was already dressed with shoes on. Kota made a beeline for the front door.

“Good morning, Destiny. You’re up early…?”

“I was freezing, so I took a hot shower. Then it was close to my alarm going off, so I just stayed up. The fire’s going, and the coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”

He waved as he continued his pace toward the door. “Just a second, Kota,” he said. The dog whined at the door; judging from his impatience, he needed to go out, pronto! As Jason neared the door, Kota’s urgency manifested in his pawing at the door. “Damn dog, I said wait!” I giggled, hearing him fuss with the frozen lock on the door before he slid it open. Kota shot out the door like a bullet from a gun. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Jason said. “This knucklehead has to use the facilities.” I was about to answer him when the door slammed shut. Just as well, I thought. My teeth were too busy chattering for me to talk. I poured a cup of coffee before it finished dripping and went to the living room.

Rather than sit on the sofa by the fireplace, I plopped myself in front of the roaring fire that now radiated a good amount of warmth. Twenty-five minutes later, Jason and Kota came back through the front door. Kota raced into the living room to greet me, covered in muddy ice clods. 

“Kota!” Jason said. “Get back here before you get my house dirty!” I couldn’t help but laugh. This time, the laughter made my throat tickle, and I coughed. There was more ruckus in the entryway as Jason cleaned up puddles from melting snow, and—I’d imagined—a dirty, wet dog. A flurry of curses came from Jason’s direction, and then an “Okay.” That must have been Kota’s cue to run back to where I sat, because he was there in a flash. “I’m sorry, Destiny,” he said. “Did he get you all wet?”

“No,” I said. “He only wanted to say hi. It seemed he was in a big hurry to get outside, though.”

“Oh, he was. He spent at least thirty minutes shuffling around upstairs until I couldn’t stand the whining. I’m glad he’s trained off-leash, because he’d have pulled me face first into that snow drift outside the door. I cleared the snow while we were outside, so we can get out of the driveway later.” He sighed and cast his face downward. “I really don’t want you to go.”

“I know, but I have to.” An unnatural rasp in my voice came through as I spoke; Jason noticed it, too.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “You look a bit pale.” 

I swallowed a sip of coffee, disregarding the prickly sensation. Words caught in my throat, increasing the tickle. “Yeah, I’m okay.” I was lying; I felt like crap. 

“You’re not inspiring much confidence, Destiny. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Except for yesterday, we’ve been on the go since I got here. I’m just tired, I think.” 

“What time is your flight?”

“It’s at ten past one.” I glanced at my watch; 7:24 AM. “We still have some time.”

“Would you like a muffin before I wrap them to pack? You know, to go with your coffee? I’m going to grab my first cup. I’ll bring one back if you want one.”

“No, but thank you. I’m not very hungry.” Kota lumbered over to where I sat and laid down, placing his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his soft coat, much to his delight. He must have sensed I wasn’t feeling well, because he hadn’t done this before. Dogs and cats, I had learned, possessed an innate sense for those things. I scratched under his chin; he turned his eyes up and gave me the look that melts the heart of every animal lover. I leaned forward to place a kiss on his head, but he beat me to the punch and licked my face. I didn’t mind it, either.

Jason walked back into the living room with his coffee in time to catch Kota in the act with the slobbery dog kiss. “He really likes you, sweetheart. Kota doesn’t do this with anyone else, myself included.”

I took another sip of coffee. “I’m happy I have Poppy. I was alone before I rescued her.”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like that you’re alone, and I don’t relish the idea of sticking you on a plane when I know you’re sick.”

“I’ve been on my own a long time, and I’ll be okay. I promise.” 

“That may be true, but I don’t have to like it.” 

Fair enough.

At ten o’clock, Jason took Kota outside one more time before we needed to leave for the airport. He and the dog both came in covered in tiny snowflakes, which meant the roads would be slick. It was ten-thirty when he decided we should leave enough time to navigate the roads. My bag was already outside my bedroom door. He picked it up and moved it to the front door. That was my cue to say my goodbye to Kota. I kneeled in the entryway near the holiday tree and called him; Kota ran to me, nuzzling his head into my face. He was a wonderful dog, and I knew I’d miss him. “Be good,” I said, and planted one last smooch on Kota’s head. “I’ll come back, I promise.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Jason’s cheerful smile.

He grabbed my suitcase, and I flung my backpack over my shoulder. “I’m ready.” He struggled to pick up the case, then set it back down, his smile turning to utter shock.

“How many bodies do you have in here, Destiny?”

I played into his question. “As many as I could fit.” We looked at each other and laughed. He threw the luggage into the bed of his pickup. The tickle in my throat turned scratchy; I took a deep breath and groaned on the exhale. I knew Jason heard it because he turned and looked right at me. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said.

I coughed again and shivered. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” In reality, I hadn’t warmed up since the previous morning. This time, it felt like the beginning of a fever. Either way, I was getting annoyed—not with Jason, but with my body and it’s lousy timing.

“Why don’t you call Ernie and tell him you’re getting sick? Let me take care of you here instead of going home where you’ll be alone?”

That was the last thing I needed. “He will KILL me if I don’t show up for rehearsals. I need to go. I’ll be okay.”

“Please, sweetheart, don’t go home and be sick where no one can take care of you.” I knew Jason meant well, but Ernie wouldn’t be as understanding if I stayed out-of-town one day longer than necessary.

“Everyone’s gone through such trouble to get this show organized. I can’t let them down.” I glanced at my watch, and at the snow spitting from the sky. “We should go.” 

Jason clenched his jaw and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Alright.” He opened the door on his truck for me to get in, then walked to the driver’s side. Despite the bitter cold, the truck fired on the first try. Jason chuckled and patted the dashboard. “This old truck has never let me down. Let’s go.”

We were quiet on the drive to the airport; though I wanted to talk, I was concentrating on keeping my teeth from chattering. The more time passed, the worse I felt. But I was determined to not let a cold or flu stop me from doing the New Year’s Eve show. 

The roads weren’t as treacherous as Jason thought they’d be, so we made the drive with plenty of time to spare. He drove to the airport terminal, shifted into neutral and set the parking brake. Before he opened his door, he glanced over at me, shivering and pale as a ghost. He grabbed my ice cold hand and held onto it.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Destiny? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but I didn’t recognize the voice that spoke it. Hoarseness replaced my normally silky smooth voice. “Or, maybe I’m not.”

“That’s it,” Jason said, reaching to shift back into first. “I’m taking you home so I can care for you.” 

Staying in Twinbrook would be the end of the road for my show at Mick’s. Somehow, I had to convince Jason I’d be okay going home to an empty house. I placed my hand over his on the gearshift, mostly so he wouldn’t move the truck. His hand was warm, but mine—numb and lifeless—resembled icicles. “I’ll be alright. I swear it. Please, Dad, I can’t miss my show. Ernie will kill me.” 

He huffed, not at me but at the impossible situation I’d presented him. “If you need me, I can be there in just a few hours. Promise me you’ll call if you need me, Destiny. I mean it.” 

I nodded. “You have my word.”

“Stay here and keep warm while I check your bag. Do you have your ticket?”

I nodded and dug through my backpack. “Here it is,” I said, trying to hand it to him and watching the ticket fall from my weak grasp. “Oops,” I whispered. He reached for the ticket from the truck’s floorboard, got out of the driver’s side and grabbed my suitcase from the truck bed, then walked to the curbside check in. I sunk down into my seat, groaning in pain. Why did this have to hit so suddenly, and so damned hard? 

I must have dozed off, because Jason’s soft tap on my shoulder woke me. “You’re all set, Destiny. Are you sure you need to go home? This is your last chance before I leave you here.”

My tired, heavy head flopped forward. “Yeah. I just need a day or two to rest, and I’ll feel better. The first day is always the worst.”

Jason nodded. “That’s true,” he said. “But I’m so worried about you. Maybe I’ll just buy a ticket and go back with you.” He stood there thinking; I could almost see the gears turning in his head. “I’ll just ask Junior to take Kota for a few days. The kids love him, and they won’t mind it.” He took his phone from his pocket and dialed it, then closed the door to keep me warm. Jason paced the ground outside his truck, and then finally opened my door five minutes later.

“What’s going on?” I was teetering on the edge of sleep and wakefulness.

“The Bradfords are going to watch Kota for me. I’m going to leave you here, sweetheart. Just go inside and stay warm. I need to put this beast in long-term parking, and I’ll be back. Don’t move without me, okay?”

I nodded and slid off the car seat into his waiting arms. He held onto me with a death grip, making sure I didn’t stumble or fall. He kissed my cheek, and then hurried back to his truck.

When he returned, he tapped my shoulder and woke me again. “I can’t believe I’m putting you on an airplane like this,” he muttered as he helped me up to walk. I remember going through security, and I remember boarding the twenty-seat commuter flight with Jason at my side. He fastened my seatbelt; I looked at him, mouthed the words, “Thank you,” and closed my eyes to sleep.

*****

My eyes were heavy, trying to open them after a sleep so deep, I thought I had been dead. The lights in the room were stark and bright; a hazy aura surrounded each one. As I awakened, I became aware of people talking around me, but I couldn’t really understand them. Though my mouth was dry, I swallowed, and then clenched my teeth. Ouch! It felt like someone had painted my throat with battery acid. My chest was heavy and tight, but I couldn’t muster the strength to cough. Something squeezed my hand. My head dropped to the right, toward the direction of the touch. My eyes were dry, and my vision was blurry and cloudy. Where the hell am I?

“She’s awake!” I heard a familiar voice speaking, but I couldn’t place it. It was the first lucid thing I understood. My eyes closed again; the burn of fatigue made it a struggle to keep them open. A soft touch stroked my cheek, and then the sensation of something wet dripping onto my bare shoulder. I blinked again and stared at the face hovering over mine. 

“D-Dad…?” Jason. Of course, he’d be right there for me. I’d never been so happy to see him. “Where… am… I?”

Jason took my hand and kissed it. “We’ve been scared senseless, Destiny, that you wouldn’t wake up.” With sheer relief in his voice, he squeezed my hand again and wept. “Thank God you’re awake.”

I still felt woozy and tired. As I continued to awaken, things became more clear. The intense itch I had on my left hand came from the adhesive that kept an IV in place. I was connected to tubes and wore an oxygen cannula on my face. My first thought was Daddy. Was this how he felt before he passed away? “Where…” my shaky voice attempted to ask the same question that had previously gone unanswered. Jason brushed a lock of damp hair from my face.

“You’re at the hospital in Starlight Shores, Destiny. It’s a good thing I came home with you, because you passed out on the airplane, and I couldn’t wake you. They had an ambulance waiting for us when we landed.” Jason took a deep breath and exhaled with a heavy sigh. “You’ve been a very sick little girl, and I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m… so sorry,” I mumbled. Then, I remembered Poppy. Who was taking care of my baby? “My… cat…”

“Poppy is okay, sweetheart. Your friends are still there, taking care of her and the house.”

What a relief to know my little sweetheart was okay and cared for. My head flopped back to the other side, so I closed my eyes. My whole body felt heavy, as though I had an elephant lying on top of me. When I closed my eyes, they burned; it was that weird place between relief and discomfort. I tried to speak, but talking was painful. “What… happened?”

Jason took my hand and rubbed my fingers. “You were intubated for the first two days you were here, Destiny. Your lips were blue, despite having oxygen during the flight.” Another teardrop fell from his eyes and dripped onto my hand. “They said you’d have a sore throat, and that speaking might be difficult for a bit.”

A half smile crossed my lips. “They weren’t kidding about the sore throat.” I closed my bleary eyes again. Nothing was in focus, and the room was spinning. Stop the world, I want off, I remember thinking. The sensation made me nauseated.

Jason muttered something that I didn’t quite understand, then I heard the clacking of dress shoes on a hard tiled floor. I couldn’t miss the voice if I tried.

“How’s my superstar?” Ernie said. “You look better, Des; there’s some healthy color in your face. The guys and I have been worried sick about you.”

“Sorry… about that.” I eked out a slight smile. “Tell them I’ll be in the studio for Snowflake Day.”

Ernie chuckled. “Even sick, you’re dedicated. Des, Snowflake Day was three days ago.”

I wanted to care, but all I could think about was how tired I was. My eyes were heavy, and I was fighting sleep. “That’s nice…” was the last thing I uttered before slumber enveloped me. What Ernie had said didn’t register in my flu-addled brain, and it wouldn’t until some days later.

---

When I finally recovered enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, I was relieved to see Jason still at my bedside, surrounded by flowers, balloons and stuffed toys from friends and family. Aunt Jenny had been on standby since Snowflake Day, ready to fly here at a moment’s notice. The Bradfords sent a beautiful potted plant with cut flowers mixed into the arrangement. There was even a cute picture of Poppy sitting on my bedside that Evie and Trevor brought for me. The outpouring of love overwhelmed me; it was wonderful to know how many people cared for me. It was a humbling experience.

In the days that followed my awakening at the hospital, Jason slowly filled me in on what had transpired and how much of life I missed while I was unconscious. He’d mentioned that I’d passed out on the airplane, and that no matter how he tried, he couldn’t wake me. Flight attendants took care to request an ambulance upon our arrival. Jason was by my side every moment I was unconscious and never left me. He hadn’t slept in a normal bed since the morning we left Twinbrook together. I felt so terrible that I didn’t let him keep me at his home, though I would’ve ended up hospitalized there. At least he’d have been able to go home at night to sleep.

After a week in the hospital, doctors discharged me home to Jason’s loving care. It was New Year’s eve, the day that my life should have changed forever. Instead of singing in my first national broadcast, I was home, still too sick to go anywhere, much less doing my show at Mick’s. Rather than being surrounded by screaming fans and New Year’s Eve revelers, I was curled up in bed, thankful to be awake and alive.

Up Next: Chapter Ten, Generation Two

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Credits:

• Poses courtesy of Poses By Bee and BlogoSims (Kota’s pose)
• Thank you to MorganaBananaSims for providing DaKota Matthews (blue Merle Aussie shepherd)

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Copyright ©2024 Wendy S Londona. All Rights Reserved.