If only it were true.
3
ROAN
The first morning after his return home, Roan shivered as he got out of bed and turned up the heat. He was freezing. His blood had thinned during his time in Los Angeles. He threw on a pair of sweats, a thick pair of socks, and headed downstairs to make some coffee.
Walter had done a good job updating the place for renters over the years. Fresh paint, new carpet, modern fixtures. The kitchen had been updated with stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and a farmhouse sink. His mother would have loved it. The main floor was open concept now, as Walter had knocked out a wall between the kitchen and living room, modernizing the space. Even with all the changes, the house felt the same as it always had. Like home. The living room window still looked out at the yard where he and Jason had tossed a baseball back and forth. The floor still creaked in the same spots.
He started coffee and stared out the window at the snow-covered fields. In the distance, he could see smoke from Grace and Walter’s, as well as that of the house his cousin Luke lived in with his wife and children.
As grateful as he was to be back in the house, every room held ghosts. Each time he entered a room, he half expectedhis mother to be standing there. But it was also full of good memories. Christmas mornings opening presents. Summer evenings grilling in the back yard. The three of them watching movies together on the couch. It had been a simple life but a joyful one. Until they lost the woman who had given them everything they needed. At times, the pain of the loss still felt fresh. Other times it felt like a hundred years ago since he’d seen his mother.
The coffee maker beeped and Roan poured himself a cup, black. His phone buzzed with a text from Jason.
Jason
On the plane. See you soon.
Roan
Lots to tell you.
Jason
Intriguing.
Roan smiled into the phone. He and his brother had never really been apart since birth. In L.A. they’d been in and out of each other’s apartments, sharing meals and holidays. He couldn’t wait to see him.
Roan had taken the largest bedroom instead of the one he’d shared with Jason when they were kids. This was his home now. He had to take the room that had once been his mother’s, even though it felt strange to do so.
He took his coffee upstairs to shower, then spent the next hour doing things around the house. The heat was still spotty. He’d have to ask Walter to look at it. He made the bed in the guest room for Jason, pulling out fresh sheets that Grace had brought over and hanging towels in the guest bathroom.
Around ten, he headed out to the wraparound porch that circled three sides of the house. Walter and his cousins hadrecently repaired some of the loose boards. The porch swing still hung in the same spot, though the chains were new. Roan had spent countless summer evenings on this porch as a kid, reading comics, doing homework, talking with his mom about everything and nothing.
He could almost see her there, sitting in the rocking chair with her glass of iced tea, asking about his day. Always interested and present. Her attention had always made him feel special. Even when he was acting out in middle school. If only he could go back and change the moments he’d given his mother so much trouble.
A car pulled into the main driveway and Walter got out, raising a hand in greeting. Roan walked down the porch steps to meet him as his uncle opened his trunk, hauling out a large plastic tub.
“Morning,” Walter called out as he walked toward the porch. “Just wanted to check on the heat situation. Grace said you mentioned it was acting up.”
“Yeah, it’s sluggish. Takes forever to warm up.”
“I’ll take a look. Probably just needs a tune-up.”
“I appreciate it.” Roan gestured toward the bin. “What’s that?”
“Grace kept your mother’s Christmas decorations. In case you ever came home.”
“No way.”
“They’ve been safe and dry, but I have no idea what’s in here,” Walter said. “But your Aunt Grace said you boys would want it.”
“That’s kind of her. Aunt Grace always thinks of everything.”
“It’s true. Sometimes it’s hard to be married to a saint.”
Roan laughed. “I’m pretty sure no one in this town feels one bit sorry for you.”
