The room was freezing cold, but cozy nonetheless. A large wooden bookshelf held hundreds of paperbacks. Thick white curtains framed a nighttime view over a peaceful farm.
This is Andy’s room.
Dalton was on his feet and making the bed before he realized he was doing it. Years of routine made the familiar actions a comfort.
It was almost unreal to be standing in Andy’s home with his family and his things all around. Dalton had spent the last two years grappling with guilt that he couldn’t come right away to work the farm like he had promised. So much so that maybe his desire to help had muted his grieving.
Now that he was finally here, happy thoughts of his best friend returned to him alongside an ache of sadness.
You’re still with us, buddy,he told Andy inwardly, gazing at the photo of their unit.As long as I’m here, there’s a piece of you in Trinity Falls.
He grabbed some clean clothing and his bathroom things and slowly opened the door, wondering just how early farmers woke up.
But there was no one in the bathroom and there were no sounds or lights emerging from any of the other bedrooms.
He showered and dressed as quickly and quietly as possible, then headed down the stairs.
One of them creaked loudly, and he froze in place for a second. Once he was convinced that no one was stirring, he let out a breath and continued through the darkness down to the kitchen.
Last night, he’d been too focused on the family members to notice much else. Andy had described them so many times—his mother’s smile, his father’s wild energy, his sister’s feisty spirit.
He never mentioned how beautiful she was…
He wished he hadn’t noticed. He knew full well she had lost her husband just before he met Andy, and of course she had lost her brother as well.
Life wasn’t fair. He knew that all too well himself. But it didn’t make him feel any less sorry for her.
When he reached the kitchen, he flicked on the lights and surveyed the room. While it was certainly wiped down and pleasant, he assumed that with Michael’s bad back and Mary and Ella working thefarm every day, there hadn’t been time for deep cleaning.
A quick search under the sink yielded the supplies he needed, so he got right to work, starting with the ceiling and light fixtures and scrubbing his way down to the floors.
By the time he was finished, it was almost dawn. But the appliances gleamed and the whole kitchen smelled like pine cleaner.
The first pink rays of morning sunlight peaked through the back window, tracing a pattern on the wood plank floor. Sunrise meant the house would be waking soon.
Dalton washed up, then assessed the contents of the refrigerator and the small pantry, and decided on a course of action.
He was ready to pour the first batch of pancakes onto the griddle when he heard the creaky step.
He guessed that it would be Ella or her mom, and he hoped they would be happy to see him cooking a nice breakfast in a sparklingly clean kitchen.
“What are you doing?” a little voice squeaked instead.
He turned to see a tiny girl standing on the stair landing. She looked like a miniature version of her mother, with her messy golden hair and dark, serious eyes.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’m making pancakes.”
“You’re friends with Uncle Andy,” the girl said sternly.
“Yes,” he told her. “I’ll bet you miss him a lot.”
“I don’t remember him,” she said matter-of-factly. “But he used to live here.”
“That’s right,” Dalton said, charmed by the little girl’shonesty and wondering what she might ask him about her uncle.
He hoped he could provide any answers she was looking for. He’d known Andy well, but in a separate time and place, so different from the peace of this farmhouse.
“I want to make pancakes,” she said, scampering down the rest of the steps.
