Page 47 of Ashes of the Past
“I remember,” I say quietly.
“And this arrangement…” She trails off, her voice thick with emotion. “They’re perfect. Just perfect. Their fragrance…it takes me back. You did so good, son.”
I swallow hard, pushing the emotions down for the time being. It really is nice to see Mom so happy with the arrangement. I can’t help but think that if Brynn had justsurprised me with whatever, it would’ve been great, but it wouldn’t have elicited this same response.
I glance at the flowers again, thinking of Brynn. Of the way her eyes lit up when she talked about them, her passion spilling over in every word. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone care about something that much. It’s… refreshing.
And unsettling.
Rick interrupts my thoughts, handing me a beer and gesturing toward the backyard. “Come on, let’s see if we can teach these kids a thing or two.”
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” I tease. “I’ve got to be able to throw myself up on a horse in the morning.”
“I’ll take it easy on you, Uncle Jack!” Ava giggles as she throws the football to her brother.
“Okay, I’m impressed with that throw.”
“Bret taught me how to spin it!” she squeals excitedly. “It feels so cool coming off my fingers.”
I chuckle to myself. It’s nice to be around my niece and nephew. When I was in Texas, I didn’t get to see them very often. Tate and Savannah pretty much monopolized all my time.
Savannah, especially, hated when all of my attention wasn’t focused solely on her, which made working and helping to raise my nephew very difficult at times.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter, teasing, and more than a few failed attempts at football. By the time I head home, the sun is dipping low on the horizon, and my mind is still on the flowers.
She’s under my skin, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
Chapter Nineteen
Brynn
“Popo, are you ready to lose to me at Rummy?” Olivia asks on Saturday night.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever lost toyou,” he teases.
She giggles. “Gran taught me her tricks, Popo. I beat you every time.”
“For the life of me, I never figured out how she was so good at the game.”
“She could read you like a book, Dad,” I say with a fond smile.
My mom ran a tight ship growing up. She didn’t allow Dad to do any work from six p.m. on a Saturday night until five Monday morning. If I had something going on at school, he was present. He would take me to school in the morning, and Mom would pick me up.
“That’s why we hired Bill. Your baby girl needs to know you, needs to know that there’s more to life than working your days away,” Mom would say on repeat if Dad tried to work through Saturday night or on Sunday.
“It’s our ranch.”
“I’m well aware, but she’s our daughter, and we’re going to do everything we can to raise her better than we were raised.”
Dad would nod and smile, kiss her on the forehead, and then help her in the kitchen or get the cards ready for our Saturday night Rummy game. Those were some of my favorite memories, all the laughter and love that filled that kitchen.
I’m grateful that Olivia got to see those moments, that love between my parents before Mom died. My stomach tightens, and my eyes prick with tears as the wave of grief crashes over me.
It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, sometimes that grief hits so damn hard.
I linger in the doorway, watching them, my heart full.
“Did you get the snacks?” Dad asks.
