Page 1 of Winter Memories

CHAPTER 1

EDEN

I forgot how long this drive takes. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t been home in years and insisted my parents come to me whenever possible. In between, because they weren’t ever keen on leaving home, we got very good about video calls. I’m just glad that was an option or else I would have felt so alone in my life the last few years.

Or maybe I would have come home a few years ago when I found out just how alone I was, and everything that I was building out of obligation fell apart.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s better this way. I’m happier without faking my way through a relationship which was never worth the effort.

“Mama,” the little voice of my three-year-old, Macklin, pulls me back into the seemingly endless road trip that I’m on with him, “how much longer?”

I giggle when I glance into the mirror and see his pouting face. He’s been damn good during this trip even though I know he would rather be doing anything other than sitting in the car. And we’ve been at it for days.

A giddy feeling settles in my chest when I tell him, “I promise it’s not far now.”

“You’ve been saying the same thing forever,” he huffs.

I make a humming sound because I can’t exactly tell him he’s wrong, even though he is. I’ve told him exactly how many more hours there are to go in our trip every time he’s asked. To a three-year-old? I might as well be speaking another language.

“I know this has been a long trip, Mack,” I murmur softly. “But you’ve had fun too.” The only response I get is a growling sound filled with annoyance, and I have to suppress my laughter. He’s adorable. “If we hadn’t come on this trip, you would have missed out on the hotel pools.”

“Well,” he grumbles, “I did like the pools even though you made me wear those arm floaties.” He scrunches his face up and pouts, “I didn’t like those.”

“You know those are just for your safety, bud,” I remind him softly. We’ve had the same conversation about the floaties every night when we go to the hotel pool. I made sure to plan everything and an indoor, heated pool was a requirement for me to make a reservation. There was only so much of being trapped in a car that Mack was going to take; making the trip longer with more stops was the only way to keep us both sane. “But you’re getting better at swimming with all the practice you’ve had.”

His little chest puffs up and I get a glimpse of his smile when I look back at him in the mirror. “That’s because I’m a fish.”

“Oh? What kind of fish are you?”

I don’t have to see him to know the look of concentration his face. He might be a very normal three-year-old, but there are times when he acts like he’s thirty. When asked a question, one he feels is important, he really puts thought into the answer.

“I guess a clown fish.” I smile because he doesn’t know many different kinds of fish unless they’re animated. He sighs, “I really want to see Gramps and Gran soon.”

“We’ll see them soon, Mack,” I murmur.

The video calls haven’t been enough, and neither have their infrequent visits. I should have made more of an effort over the last few years to go home, but every time I thought about it, my heart ached, and fear gripped me. What if I saw the guy I lost? What if I found out he moved on?

“You really think I’ll like the new place we’re going?”

My heart lurches in my chest with my son’s question. It’s scary to know how much trust he’s putting in me, without even having a choice. He’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known, the only home he’s ever known. All because I know it’ll be the right thing for us.

It’s a choice he didn’t have any say in. Am I being a bad mom by ripping him away fromhishome, just because I want to go back tomyhome? I breathe through the panic that wants to bring me down.

“You’ll love Wintervale, Mack. Not only will you love the ranch, and all the animals there, but you’ll it’s not as busy there. You’ll make real friends, ones who you’ll grow up with and always be in the same school with. It might not make sense to you, but you’ll be able to put down real roots there.”

“Roots? Like a plant?”

“Exactly,” I chirp.

“Mom,” he groans, “I’m a boy, not a plant.”

I giggle softly and smile. “I know, it’s just a strange phrase. I loved growing up in Wintervale. I can’t imagine having grown up anywhere else. Not only that, but you’ll have Gran and Gramps there. You know how much they love you.”

“I haven’t seen them as much as I want,” he admits.

“That’s what I mean. You’ll be able to see them all the time. And Gramps will make you a ranch hand,” I offer.

There’s a hopeful note in his voice, “For the cows Gramps has?”

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