target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#ub178b4e3-a7a0-5e6a-821c-1dff5e82c3ec">Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER ONE
WYATT HAWKINS PULLED his black 4x4 pickup into the familiar drive and killed the engine. The huge truck was well suited for the wide Texas plains of his ranch, but here in Austin, at Mom’s house with all these close-knit homes, it seemed out of place. He stayed in the cab and stared through the dirt-streaked windshield at the place he still considered home.
But without Mom, it would never be the same.
The faint sound of footsteps made him glance in the rearview mirror. His sister Addie headed up the walk. Her shoulder-length blond hair and flowing black skirt rippled in the breeze. She stopped at the truck door and rapped, unnecessarily, on the window. He rolled the glass down and peered into her tired, sad face.
“You ready for this?” he whispered, hoping she’d say no and let them all off the hook. Being Addie, she didn’t, of course.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said on a deep sigh.
She hesitated a moment, then kept walking to the front door as if she knew by stopping she might never get started again. Wyatt climbed out of the truck and silently followed.
She unlocked the front door and pushed the heavy wood open.
The door didn’t smack against the wall like it had when they’d barreled through as children. Nor did the hinges squeal to remind Dad it was time to oil them.
It simply opened to a dark, musty room. A house full of stuff but empty of people.
Just then, a red convertible parked across the street. Both Wyatt and Addie turned to watch their younger sister Mandy climb out, her long blond hair shining in the sun. Her sky-high heels tapped across the paved street as she headed toward them.
Right behind her, the bumper of Tara’s Jeep almost kissed the chrome of the convertible. The engine rattled a moment after she turned it off. There was no door on the side of the vehicle to slam. She simply swung her legs out and landed on sneaker-clad feet and trotted up the walk.
The shiny gray Lexus that pulled into the drive next would normally turn heads, but they were all used to Jason’s flash. Even his black suit looked polished to a glow.
Last, as always, DJ arrived on his monstrous motorcycle, gliding up to the curb and just barely stopping from parking on Mom’s pristine lawn. After removing his dark helmet, he cut the rough engine and silence returned to the quiet neighborhood.
They were all here.
No one spoke a word. Wyatt watched his brothers and sisters traipse in one by one. His family. Three of the six wore sunglasses, even as they entered the dim interior of the house.
Oddly enough, they passed the living room, the front hall and, in a long-honed habit, settled around the kitchen table. Six chairs. Six kids. No need to pull out the spare ones in the hall closet. They hadn’t used them that often anyway, since they’d seldom all been home at the same time.
“Looks like we’re all here.” DJ spoke first, rubbing his hand over his military buzz cut as if even after two years, he still wasn’t used to it.
“I guess we should have brought lunch.” Tara’s voice sounded too much like Mom’s. They all smiled, missing the woman they’d said a permanent goodbye to only a few hours ago.
The laughter and tears mingled. The sunglasses came off and the healing began.
“Mom loved this room.” Tara stood and went to the cupboard. The coffee, sugar and creamer were just where Mom had always kept them. She started a pot and plunked the containers on the table.
“We all did,” Wyatt agreed, walking to the silverware drawer where he pulled out five spoons. Wyatt didn’t need one. He took his coffee black.
As the coffee brewed and they fixed their cups, they talked. Voices overlapped and memories entwined. Even Jason relaxed, pulling off his jacket and rolling up his pristine shirtsleeves. Mandy’s heels fell to the floor in a mangled heap of leather. “This feels right,” she said as she rubbed her toes.
Addie smiled sadly. “Mom would have liked this—us all here together.”
Wyatt silently leaned on the counter as Addie’s words jabbed at his heart. She was right. If only they’d taken more time when Mom was alive. Sipping his coffee, he took in the view. Normally this group was a rowdy, teasing, rambunctious bunch. Today, rightfully so, they were quiet. He missed them all, missed who they were. Not just because Mom was gone, and they’d just come from the cemetery...but because they were all scattered across the country and he didn’t see them often. Who knew when, or if, they’d ever be together again.
Addie was the only one who still lived in Austin. But the wear and tear of caring for Mom as she’d battled cancer showed on Addie’s face. He set his cup down and reached out to rub her shoulders.
She’d filled her coffee cup first yet it was the fullest. Not because she’d been doing most of the talking, either. He watched her, feeling the tension in her shoulders, noting the circles beneath her eyes. She’d been Mom’s caregiver clear up until the end. He’d helped when he could, driving in every weekend to give her a break, but the ranch was a full-time operation two hours away, never mind that he hadn’t known what to do. The toll that the past few months had taken showed in the lines around Addie’s eyes.
She turned her cup around, the ceramic making a soft grinding sound against the old wood. She turned it again. And yet a third time. He knew, without being told, that she was formulating what to say. He almost held his breath waiting for her.
“Those last couple days,” she began.
Wyatt reached out, as if subconsciously thinking he could stop her. Then he had to stop himself. She needed to say this.
She took a deep breath and started again. “The social worker at the hospice called it life review,” she whispered. “Mom talked about her childhood. I learned a lot about her family. Stories I’d never heard before.” She didn’t go into those stories, but he saw everyone perk up, hoping, like him, that she would.
The silence grew and for a minute Wyatt thought maybe Addie had decided not to go on. Tara spoke up first. “What kinds of things did she talk about?”
Tara looked ready to break. The youngest, she’d always been coddled by them. While that babying hadn’t necessarily been
