“Auntie Jay!”
“Babies!” she squeals as the boys tumble over each other to tell her about their day—the new swings at the playground, the worms they found in the dirt, and their big plans to tip a cow at Grandpa’s this week.
“Is that so?” Her Southern drawl slips through on theso, but she pushes forward, not backing down from the pressing issue: Steven traveling. “Emma, I don’t know about this.”
I sigh. There’s no winning. “The doctors cleared him. Liam said it could be helpful. And Steven wants to see your mom.”
“What if it—”
“He needs to see his mom, Jay.” My words come out sharper than I mean. I can’t let her say it—the fear I’ve been choking down all week.What if it makes things worse?The boys’ eyes are wide as they watch me in the rearview. “I’m sorry, Jay. I don’t think we can stop him from coming even if we wanted to.”
“You’re probably right.” She sighs, and the sound of it is heavy. The kind of tired that sits in your bones. Jay moved closer to her parents six months ago, right after Donna took a turn. Forgetting how to button her own coat.Constantly getting locked out of the house. Calling 911 in the middle of the night because she didn’t know where she was.
“How are you doing?” I ask as I turn onto our road.
Trees thicken around us, branches arching overhead like they’re building a tunnel just for us. I used to hate this drive, how it felt like it was pressing in on me. But over time, it’s become soothing, a cocoon from the world, a calming breath before I get home.
“I’m fine,” Jay says. “Tired, but we have a better routine with Mom now. And she’s been having more good days lately.” I can hear the wistful smile in her voice, the aching fondness she has for her mother. I feel it too, the love for a woman we’re watching fade right before our eyes.
“Can we get waffles?” Sawyer yells from the backseat.
“We only eat waffles for breakfast,” Easton counters.
“I’ll have waffles ready when you get here,” Jay chimes in.
The boys start to cheer, and I can no longer hear myself think.
“Love you, Em.” Jay laughs.
“See you tomorrow.”
I hang up just as sunlight flickers through the trees, speckling our yard in gold as we pull down the driveway. A fresh pile of dead leaves—one that wasn’t there this morning—sits by the porch. The leaf blower, shovel, and rake are propped against the railing.Did Steven do yardwork?Cindy definitely didn’t.
The boys barrel out of the car and toward the house, dragging their bags and a storm of dirt behind them. The image of mud and sticks streaking my floor flashes through my head, making my skin crawl. I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe. Add it to the list.
Going out of town always makes me more antsy than it should. I like coming home to order, to a place of calm after the chaos that always comes when we travel. Doesn’t everyone? So, instead of packing, I clean,scrubbing the house from top to bottom, then I’m scrambling with luggage the night before.
Which is exactly what’s happened this week. Instead of slowly packing over the last few days, I’ve deep cleaned the kitchen and bathrooms, scrubbed the windowsills, washed our bedding—bedding we aren’t even taking with us. And convincing myself it’s productive.
Because the truth is, I’m busying myself and avoiding reality. Pretending everything is fine. They say ignorance is bliss, and that’s exactly where I am—ignoring our suitcases and the reality that’s awaiting us on the ranch.
With Steven slowly remembering, it seems to be the least of our worries.
The way he looked at me earlier today, when that memory hit him…I was almost split wide open. Bliss consumed me from the inside out, like it did fifteen years ago. Having a man like Steven, so sure of himself, so confident in the idea ofusthat he sprinted across campus just to serenade me? I couldn’t admit it back then—I was too prideful—but I was done for.
The memory leaves me smiling as I walk into the house. Then I freeze. It’s not the house I left this morning. It smells clean, and relaxing, like fresh mint and herbs. The wood floors are so shiny I can almost see my reflection.
“Hello?” I call, feeling like I’ve stepped intoThe Twilight Zone. “What has happened to our house?”
Cindy comes down the stairs, with baby Josie squirming in her arms. The moment she sees me, she nearly launches herself at me. I scoop her up and feel every ounce of heaviness strip off of me, like fresh skin. The happy mom skin.
“Hi, baby.” I kiss her all over her face until she giggles then shoves her hands in my mouth.
“Cindy, did you clean?” I manage as Josie fishhooks my jaw.
“No, ma’am.” She grins from ear to ear, and it’s almost mischievous. I arch a brow at her, but she just shimmies her shoulders and heads for the door. “Be safe on your trip. I’ll see you next week. Bye, boys!”
“Bye, Cindy!” the boys yell from the kitchen.
