Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
David is just a few yards away, also eating dinner. I’ve told him time and again to join us, especially in moments like these when there isn’t anyone else around, but he always insists that it’s against protocol.
He loves the word protocol.
“This is so good,” Aspen says as she takes a bite of her potato salad. “I really will kiss Alice for this.”
“I don’t love the idea of you kissing anyone, love.”
She snorts and takes another bite. “Thank you for this. I love being up here, and the season is growing shorter by the day. This time next month, we won’t be able to get this far into the park.”
“It’s interesting to me how quickly the weather turns here,” I reply.
“On a dime,” she agrees. “It’s something I had to get used to when I moved here from Tennessee. I lived near the mountains there, so it got chilly in the winter, but nothing like Montana.”
“When did you move from Tennessee?” I ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her.
She glances at me with a look that says, really? “Don’t you have a file on me? I’m sure you know this.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I’d like to hear it from you.”
She looks back at the water.
“A few years ago,” she says. “I saw a documentary about the park a few years before that and wanted to see it. One day, I just decided…what the hell? I’ll move there.”
“And so you did.”
“And so, I did,” she confirms and takes a deep breath. “Emma would love this.”
She frowns as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Tell me about her.”
She purses her lips, thinking it over. “They went camping and—”
I stop her. “No, that story is for another time.” I lean in closer and take her hand. “I want to know about Emma, not the way she died.”
Aspen frowns and tilts her head. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
“Shame on them,” is all I say as I wait for her to talk.
“She was so funny,” she says. “And she had one hell of a temper on her. Of course, she was a redhead like her mama, and we’re known for our fire.”
“So I’ve been told,” I say, my voice dry as sandpaper. I watch as Aspen laughs.
“She would get this look on her face and puff out her cheeks. Give you major side-eye, even when she was a toddler. When she was super annoyed, she’d give this little growl, which never failed to make me laugh. Of course, that only frustrated her more. She gave me a run for my money, that’s for sure. It’s a good thing I was so young when I had her, or I would never have been able to keep up with her. She was a whirlwind.”
She pauses and pops a piece of watermelon into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“And Emma was no girlie-girl. She wanted to play in the dirt and explore. I couldn’t keep the child clean. And her father—” She stops and looks at me. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about him.”
“He is an important part of your life, Aspen. So, yes. I want to hear about him. And anything else you’d like to share about your past.”
She swallows hard and glances down at our linked hands.
“I haven’t talked much about this in years.”
I wait. I’m a patient man.
“Greg and Emma were inseparable,” she says. “They loved to play and be outside. She would have lived outside if she could. But with the adventurous spirit came a softer side. She loved to snuggle with me. I used to read to her for hours. Not just at bedtime, but anytime. And she liked to bake cookies with me. Cowboy cookies were her favorite.”
“You sell those in the café,” I say.
“And I always will. It’s honestly a long, sad story, Callum. Longer than I can share in one late afternoon. But there are so many happy memories, too. I miss them both. I don’t know if Greg and I would have made it for the long haul. I hate to admit that out loud, especially since the poor man is dead. We married painfully young, and well, who knows what might have happened if they hadn’t gone camping that weekend? But he was a good man and a great father. He was my best friend and the one constant I had in my life from the time I was fourteen.”
She clears her throat, seemingly determined not to cry.
“Well, this conversation came out of nowhere,” she says with a little frown. “But to bring it full circle, Emma would love this spot. She loved picnics, and of course, being outside. She would have asked if we could fish in the river.”
I smile and imagine a little girl with Aspen’s red hair asking to throw a line into the water.