After I sold my first million copies of “Christmas Fire,” I’d paid off the second mortgage my parents ended up taking out to save our own farm. My father had been happy to retire after I had my first sold-out tour. I’d had all the outdated and worn aspects of the house updated and gave my mother her dream kitchen.
They hadn’t wanted to move, but they appreciated the facelift I’d been able to afford to give them.
Now they just had a handful of chickens for eggs, ornery twin goats named Menace and Trouble, and my dad’s beloved palomino Sandy.
The familiar sound of gravel shifting under the tires untied a knot in my chest I hadn’t realized was there. I opened the door before my dad put the Bronco in park.
The deep bark and thundering paws had me falling to my knees on the grass as Lucy and Charlie came tearing around the corner. Lucy, our Great Pyrenees, knocked me flat on my back and licked my face as Charlie, our border collie, ran around us in circles with a happy bark.
“I missed you too, Lu.” I sunk my fingers into her dense white fur and rubbed her jowly face. “My sweet girl.” I laughed as I turned my face to avoid more drool. “Okay, okay.”
Lucy, never one to move unless it was her idea, simply sat right on top of me.
The breath whooshed out of me as Charlie took over the licking.
“Okay, you two. Let her get in the door.” My mother laughed.
Lucy pressed her big nose into my neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Lu.”
Not that I blamed her for disbelieving me. I was lucky if I spent more than a single night on the farm in the last few years. I hugged her back and finally she got off me with a little whine and trotted over to the big oak tree where she napped most of the day away.
Charlie got a good scratch before he took off to annoy the goats in the pasture.
My dad held out a hand. “Need help up?”
I took his hand because I really wasn’t sure I could get up on my own power. He hauled me up as if I weighed nothing and pulled me into a hug for good measure. And the familiar scent of Old Spice and crushed leaves brought a few tears to my eyes. I leaned on him for a minute, before he slung his arm around my shoulders and ushered me toward the front porch.
“I’m glad you’re home, kiddo.”
“Me too.”
The big white house had been added onto over the years, but the front porch had remained the same since I was a kid. Wide weathered wood planks spanned the width of the front of the house. Dozens of pots and barrels filled the space, overflowing with mums and a few hardy daisies that had survived the cool nights.
I felt a little drunk when I stumbled up the stairs. Now that I was out of my insane daily schedule, my body was reminding me just how tired I actually was. Inside, the front of the house was now a huge open space that showcased my mother’s dream kitchen. A massive sectional couch filled the living room and made a U-shape around the fireplace. A television was bolted into the stone over the hearth.
I toed off my shoes, grabbed one of the half dozen quilts in a basket by the fireplace, and wrapped it around me before curlinginto one of the corners of the couch. I didn’t even remember falling back to sleep, but when I woke again, the sun was gone and my stomach was rumbling.
I’d missed out on the fish fries, dammit.
The television was on and my father was watching a highlight show about the last football game. My mother was puttering around in the kitchen and the homey scent of Snickerdoodles urged me up to investigate.
“She lives.”
I laughed and wrapped the quilt around me as I shuffled toward the kitchen. I pressed a kiss to the top of my dad’s head. “Sorry I passed out again.”
“You’re here for rest, kiddo. Don’t apologize.”
I squeezed his shoulder and padded into the kitchen. “Smells amazing.”
My mother smiled as she transferred the warm cookies off the cooling rack to a plate and handed it to me. “I figured it might bring you around.”
“Oh, it did.” I took a bite of the cinnamony, buttery perfection and sighed. “Jessica, my trainer, would slap this out of my hand.”
“Well, she isn’t here is she?”
I shook my head and took another bite. “Sure isn’t,” I mumbled around the bigger bite.
Mom grabbed milk from the fridge and poured me a healthy glass before sliding it over in front of one of the stools along the kitchen island.
