Leaning back, I close my eyes briefly. “I think part of me is still in love with him,” I admit, wondering how that’s even possible after so long and so much history.
“Love never dies. Sometimes, it transforms into something else altogether, but it never goes away.”
“I made mistakes of my own. I know I made him feel like Samuel’s adoption was all on him, like he forced me to go through with it, when he didn’t.”
“One more thing for you two to talk about.”
“Yeah,” I agree, knowing he’s right. We do need to talk about it. I may not want to, but if we are ever going to find a way to make it work, we will need to at some point.
Hearing laughter coming from the house, I look in and see Aubrey doubled over laughing in her chair with Denver, who is sitting next to her, watching her with a soft look on his face.
“Oh shit.”
“Oh shit what?” I ask, turning to look at Paul, and he shakes his head.
“Girl’s pretty. Has no idea how pretty she is, and I think Den just realized it for himself.”
Looking back inside, I see Den hasn’t taken his eyes off her, and then I look at Zach to see if he noticed, and sure enough, his narrowed eyes are pointed at Den in a way that says he’s about to get out of his chair and commit murder.
“I better go in before your son ends up dead,” I mutter, and he chuckles. He snuffs out his cigarette and opens the door, letting me in before him. “What’s so funny?” All eyes swing to me, and Maisey grins while Joe shakes her head, smiling.
“Hunter was just telling us about when you two saw the bear in your house,” Joe says, and I look at Hunter.
“Your face when you saw the bear was funny, Mom, and the way you screamed.” He laughs, and Aubrey starts to giggle.
“I was surprised. It’s not very often you turn around in your kitchen and find a bear standing there.”
“True, baby,” Zach says softly, and my belly melts a little when our eyes lock.
“Are you guys ready for dessert?” Joe stands, and all of the kids say yes.
“Good, we’re having my grandma’s salmon berry pie with vanilla ice cream.”
“Salmon berries,” I whisper, and Joe looks at me and smiles.
“Wanna help me?” she asks.
“Sure.” I follow behind her, feeling Zach run his fingers over mine as I pass him. By the time I enter the kitchen, Joe has already gotten the ice cream out of the freezer and is pulling the foil off that was covering the pie. “Do you want me to scoop?”
“Yep, drawer next to the fridge,” she says, and I get the scoop then stand next to her at the counter.
“I haven’t had salmon berries in forever. They don’t have them in Seattle,” I say, as my mouth waters. Salmon berries are similar to raspberries or blackberries, but the colors vary between oranges, yellows, and sometimes pinks, but the taste sets them apart, because they are sweet but a little bit sour as well.
“They’re hard to come by if you don’t live in Alaska. I make jellies in the summer and freeze as much as I can, but by the time winter is over, we are always out of them.
“I need to take Hunter berry picking and learn how to can them myself.”
“I’d be happy to teach you, and if you let me know when you’re going picking, the girls and I will come along.”
“I would love that. I found some of my mom’s old canning stuff, so I’d love to learn how to use it.”
She smiles a small smile, nodding, then asks, “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“No,” I say softly, wondering if I should remember her.
“You were young, maybe six the last time I saw you,” she replies, then goes back to the pie. “Your mom would bring you along when we went salmon berry picking in the summers. That’s why I made this pie tonight. She told me once it was your favorite.”
“It is, but I don’t remember.”
She nods, sliding a piece of pie onto the plate in front of me. “Well, you look just like her. Paul said you did, but when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t believe just how much you look like her. She was a good friend to me. I know I wasn’t around when she passed away, but if you need anything, I’m here now.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, and she nods again.
“Paul’s really glad you’re home. He talked about you a lot over the years, and always wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should,” she confides.
“I forgot,” I whisper to myself, closing my eyes briefly.
“Pardon?” she asks, placing another piece of pie on a plate.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling emotional. “I forgot about this.” I motion around at everything, because it is everything. “I forgot this is why I was happy here. I blocked it out.”
“I still don’t understand, sweetie.”
“Having people care about you, even people who are strangers,” I explain, and her mouth goes soft.
“I forgot too, until I moved back. It’s not the same anywhere else, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I agree, and she bumps my shoulder with hers.
“You’re lagging behind, sweetie.”
Laughing, I get to scooping out the ice cream, and then we call the kids into the kitchen and they swarm like a starving pack of lions. By the time we are all done devouring our dessert, it’s time to call it a night, and it’s one more night I wish didn’t have to end.