“That smells delicious,” she said in anticipation as I placed our food on the small dining table.
“Meat and potatoes would taste much better if you’d let me spice up the seasoning.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t go wrong with the classics. Leave them be.”
I grabbed the pepper mill and twisted it until a cloud of black dust covered my meat. It was my version of blackened steak. “As long as you’re happy with it.”
“I’m delighted to have someone cooking for me. You know how much I appreciate it, right?”
“Yes, I do.” I glanced out of the window once more.
“Why don’t you head on out after lunch and explore a bit? The woods here are beautiful.”
“The snow is still too thick on the ground for me to take you out.”
She fussed in exasperation. “By yourself, I mean. It’s about time you used your eyes and ears and took in a bit of the place you’re actually in rather than daydreaming about where you’d rather be. Thinking about that city of yours won’t make the snow melt any faster. Slow down and enjoy this while you can.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, feeling the crease from the tension in my forehead. “Is this an order?”
“If it’ll get you outside, then yes, it’s an order. Get out of the house. Don’t come back until sunset. Go wandering through the trees and visit the creek. It must be frozen solid right now. I’m sure it’s beautiful. Take some photos on your phone for your poor old mother to see.”
I let out a huff. “Fine.” I sounded like a sulky teenager. “I’ll go outside. Though I’m sure to hate every moment of it to spite you.” I looked up with a smile.
She smiled back. “That’s the spirit.”
Resigned to my fate, I finished my lunch and threw on as many layers as I thought I’d need. I twisted my hair into a bun, sighing at the flyways I could never control. Forgoing a hat in favor of a pair of fluffy earmuffs, I slid on a pair of leather gloves before waving goodbye to my mother.
“If the weather stays like this, you’ll be back to yourself in no time,” I murmured as I stepped outside. That was my hope. My mom would no doubt enjoy getting out of the house, and it would lessen the blow of my departure.
My heart still hurt at the thought of her staying here by herself. There was no guarantee the weather was going to keep getting better until spring. Today’s good weather could merely be a blip. Long enough for me to get the hell out of here, but not long enough to allow her to get better. What else could I do?
As I walked, I passed lots of houses with well-built, wooden porches covered in a layer of snow. I made my way out of town toward the edge of the forest. The houses became more spread out with large areas of parkland in between. There was a children’s jungle gym covered in more snow than I would have thought physically possible. The sounds of kids laughing filled the air as they happily flung themselves down a hill on everything from a cardboard box to a trash can lid.
Snow to a child was magical. I’d never gotten much of it in Ireland, where it was often too wet and mild, but there had been one or two occasions when we’d been the recipient of a snowstorm. The aftereffects had been nothing like the snow in Frazier Falls, but there had been enough snow for sledding. Enough to build a snowman. Enough to have fun. But I was no longer a child. I was an adult out for a walk imposed on me as some brutal form of punishment from my mother. Maybe I was still a child, after all.
The shrieks of delight from the children disappeared as I reached the line of trees that signaled the beginning of the forest. Here, by the park, many of the trees were deciduous, their naked branches waiting for winter to end. Up ahead, the forest gave way to all kinds of coniferous trees, and the mill I’d spied on more than one occasion when traveling through to visit my mom.
There was spruce and fir and pine. Possibly more. I’d never been much of a tree person, but given my background in geography, it came as a surprise to no one that I knew more than the average person about the world around me.
After walking beneath the snow-heavy boughs melting under the rays of sunlight, I had to admit my mom had been right. Getting out was good. It was beautiful here. Quiet and peaceful with air as crisp and clean as freshly pressed linen.
It was the perfect place for my mom to be even if I didn’t want to admit it. My lungs felt like they were being cleansed simply by breathing in the air. Air like this didn’t exist in Los Angeles. Sadly, it reminded me of home.
My laughter echoed through the trees. Ardmore hadn’t been my home in eighteen years. I’d spent more time in Los Angeles than in Ireland, and yet, despite all that, when I thought of home, I always thought of that tiny, inconsequential village in the middle of nowhere.
Eventually, after a bit of an uphill climb following the footsteps of someone who had broken a trail before me, I broke through the tree line and found myself in a narrow clearing at the top of a hill. I could see the entire town below me.
An unexpected “wow” escaped my lips as I took in the sight. The sun shone on a frozen ribbon that must have been the creek, the glinting rays turning it to silver.
Sitting beneath a tree on the snow-packed ground, I closed my eyes and took in the sounds of chirping birds and rustling pine needles as the wind skated through the forest. I’d never admit this to anyone, but this moment was perfect.
Chapter Seven
Eli
Despite having told myself I wouldn’t ask my future brother-in-law to help with his firewood deliveries, I said yes to his request to do the rounds of the forest. He had this obsession to make sure it was free of litter. He policed it like a ranger. Given that he and my brother were in Germany, it was hard to say no.
On a Sunday, I would have rather stayed in and had a few beers with Paxton, but I found myself in the woods. Now that the weather had cleared up, and the warmth of the sun enticed me outside, I had to admit that I was enjoying it.
Doing the rounds was more time consuming during the summer, when teenagers would often use it as their drinking and camping grounds, but now, in the dead of winter, there wasn’t a person around. Having nothing to clean on the outskirts led me to believe the inner forest would be completely fine. I was half-tempted to call it a day, but something kept me pressing forward. It was probably the sun at my back.
With the snow lying thick on the ground, it was impossible to use the roads through the woods. Even the Cooper Construction truck with its snow tires and four-wheel-drive struggled, so I was forced to park by the side of the road once I couldn’t move forward.
“On foot I go, then,” I murmured, the words coming out as cloudy puffs of breath in the freezing air.
It was beautiful in the forest, the mid-afternoon sunlight shining a path through the undergrowth for me to follow. As the pines grew thicker and taller and I moved deeper, less light filtered down to the undergrowth. Eventually, I was walking through a murky, silent twilight, the air free of the chattering of birds, the slight breeze no longer moving the needles. The canopy was so dense that little snow had hit the ground.
Breathing became harder as the path sloped upward, signaling the beginning of the hill where the oldest trees grew. I hadn’t been up the hill for several years since the trees at the top were never felled. They towered above the forest canopy—tall sentries looking over the town for all of time and eternity.