“I might, to sleep. But your dad needs you at the hospital. I’ll be fine.”
“Promise?” She turned down Arden’s drive.
“Promise!” She gave Ellie a big smile that she absolutely did not feel.
When she walked into the house, she took a deep breath. Home at last. Her mom’s favorite lamp was lit—Frank had gotten her power back on—and Nancy’s barrel gleamed in the yellow light from her place beside the door as if to sayWe don’t need no stinkin’ state’s evidence when we’re a weapon in anallegedhomicide.
Arden walked to the kitchen and checked the fridge. Yup, along with a plate of cookies on the counter, Cynthia had left dinner—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green salad—enough to feed a Swick team, and Arden did not want a bite of it.
She looked around the great room, at the garland and decorations twinkling over the fireplace. Through the sliding glass doors, the outdoor Christmas tree lights winked like a skyful of stars, the blue star on top outdoing them all.
Arden was deeply grateful to her friends and neighbors who all pitched in to make her homecoming a good one. She wasn’t ready to see the cindery remnants of the barn scattered across the snow, but there was no need. They’d taken care of the alpaca remains, poor things. The sole survivor, Malakai, and all the horses and even the goats were stabled at Frank’s place for now, no charge.
And here she thought she didn’t have any family left.
She was home. The problem was, she didn’t feel like she was home at all. She felt like she’d never find her way home again.
Silent night, lonely night.
Except, she wasn’t really alone.
After she changed into her mom’s ratty old robe—challenging since her arm was in a sling—Arden opened to door to her brother’s room. The envelope was on the dresser next to where she’d left his photograph. She picked both up and carried them to the great room. She set the photograph up in its usual place on the mantel, nestled among the garlands. It looked good there.
She started a fire at the base of the logs someone had laid in the fireplace, then sat on the couch.
Two letters in her hand. Two choices.
She set the letter from Kyle aside, wondering if he was right now taking Camo for a walk on the beach. She imagined that was the first thing he’d do with his dog, to celebrate.
Arden studied the letter from Sean. She read her name on the front written in his small, neat block letters, and turned it over.
Deep breaths. In, hold, and out.
She grabbed the old silver dagger-shaped letter opener—rumored to have been a wedding gift to Nancy from her husband—and slit the top open.
Hey Sis,
If you’re reading this letter, I must have screwed the pooch somewhere and everything sucks, right? Hopefully, I didn’t embarrass myself and trip over a crack in the sidewalk and get pecked to death by pigeons. The ghost of that hawk I had one summer (remember that?) would hover over me and laugh its feathered ass off. Nancy would too I imagine.
No, I hope I went out in a blaze of glory defending my country. I hope the last thing I saw was a river or the ocean, and my brothers all making it to safety. That’d be worth it.
I rewrite this letter every time I go out on a mission. The first part stays the same because I’m a fucking comedian and that’s my best work (shut up, it is too funny). But this part changes depending on what’s going on. Sometimes this part is easy to write and sometimes the words hurt some. This time they hurt a lot.
I’m sorry how we left things, Sis. I’ve been doing some thinking (yeah, that hurts too) and I realize I’m not listening to what you’re saying. You love the ranch way more than I ever did. I get that now. I wanted to see the world, and the ranchisyour world. I was wrong when I told you to sell it. So, I hope you didn’t listen to me and that depending on what time of year you’re reading this, you’re either sitting in your favorite spot in front of the fire or out on the deck hoping to catch a glimpse of a fox or bear or mountain lion. If you happen to see a hawk, wave because that’s me. If it shits right after you wave, you’ll know for sure it’s me, ha!
Arden snorted. Leave it to Sean. She wiped her eyes and read on.
And Sis, I just hope you’re not alone while you’re reading this. Because no one should have to endure my terrible humor by themselves, right? I hope you’ve found someone who makes you laugh for real and who knows how to milk a goat (seriously, what were youthinking?) I hope he’s there with you right now and that he has your six, no matter what you want to do in life.
I’m planning on ripping this letter up like I have all the others (don’t ask how many) and seeing you at Christmas. I know I said I wouldn’t visit but I’m a total dumbass who runs his mouth like his temper sometimes—hot and loud and stupid. So, get the eggnog ready and those damn Christmas carols queued up and we’ll have a good time. And I promise I’ll stop riding you about selling the ranch. I’ll tell you that over the phone once this mission is done, and I’ll tell it to your face when I see you so that you know for sure I’m not joking.
Love you, Little Sis. You know I never joke about that, but I’ll say it to your face as well.
Sean
P.S. I’ll even let you do the last part and put the blue star on the tree this year because that’s just how cool I am.
Arden stared at the fire, unable to catch her breath. She set the letter aside before any more of her tears could stain it and covered her face with her good hand. She cried until she laughed, and then she laughed until she cried. Probablyexactlywhat her brother wanted her to do. Dammit, he'd gotten his way.
