Long Road Home

by JoAnn Ross

  She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that idea. “That must be it. But what’s important is that you know that your life is going to be beautiful and happy. I wanted a chance to tell you that, wherever you go, I’ll always be there. Loving you. And being so proud and happy for you.”

  “So, you’ll be able to come back a lot?” Sophie had never heard of such a thing, even on those Hallmark Channel movies, but she never would have thought she’d be standing in a bedroom at Austin’s ranch house, talking with her dead mother.

  “No. I’m pretty sure this is a one-time thing.” She smiled again, that special smile that touched the very center of Sophie’s broken heart. “Though when you feel the air stirring, or when you’re sad and feel as if someone’s arms are wrapped around you, know that it’ll be your mother.”

  She crossed the floor. Not really walking, but she didn’t exactly transport herself, either. It was sort of floating, with the white tulle of her wedding dress sweeping across the wood floor. She stopped in front of Sophie. “That’s a very good color on you. It brings out the green in your hazel eyes.”

  “Austin and Lexi told me it’s your favorite color. That you wore it for a whole year.”

  “I did. Do you want to know why?”

  “Yes.” Sophie wanted to know everything.

  Her mother’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “We had to fill out this personality test in homeroom our first week of high school. I don’t remember why. But I did find out that your father’s favorite color was purple. So, since I really, really wanted him to ask me out, I decided to make sure he noticed me.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “I never told anyone but Austin . . . You’re wearing my mother’s pearls.”

  Sophie touched a hand to the necklace. “Austin gave them to me last night.”

  “They look perfect on you. And you’re turning into such a young lady.” The air stirred as her mother’s hand brushed over them. “It won’t be that long until you’ll be wearing them at your own wedding.”

  Someone began tapping lightly on the door. “Sophie?” Austin asked. “Are you ready?”

  “No. Not yet,” Sophie said, desperate for this moment, or visitation, or whatever it was not to end.

  “You have to go,” her mother said gently. “Your brother needs you. And I’ve already overstayed my allotted time.”

  Sophie wondered how wonderful heaven could be if people were put on time clocks, the same as they were down here on earth. Then felt guilty for not being grateful that she was being given this special gift, which she was certain she wasn’t imagining, but was truly real.

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I know.” The smile faded for an instant, and she thought she saw moisture in her mother’s gentle brown eyes. “But I promise, I’ll always be watching over you.” The smile was back. On her lips and in her eyes. “And won’t you be easier to watch over than your brother?”

  Sophie felt her own lips curving at the idea of her mother watching wild Jack from heaven. Then something occurred to her. “Is he going to be okay, too? And happy?”

  She ran a hand over the top of Sophie’s head. It was odd, like when she’d touched the pearls. It wasn’t as if her hands were actually touching, but Sophie could feel them, like a bit of air. “Of course. Both my precious babies are going to have very special lives. And do amazing things.”

  There was another tap on the door. “Sophie? Are you all right?” She could sense the concern in Austin’s voice as she heard her talking to someone else. Someone with a deep, male voice. Sawyer.

  “Close your eyes,” her mother said gently.

  Unable not to, Sophie did as instructed. And felt a touch, like the faintest flutter of butterfly wings, on each cheek, then her temples, then her lips.

  A soft breeze warmed her face.

  And then, when she opened her eyes, she was standing there. All alone.

  But, she thought as she drew in a deep breath, then blew it out before opening the bedroom door, maybe not as alone as she’d feared.

  35

  THE DUAL FUNERALS were not as horrible and sad as Austin had feared. Nearly Jack’s entire class had shown up with their parents (who sat at the back of the church classroom, while their children sat on pillows up front) to watch Jack and Sophie put the notes they’d written to their parents into two boxes. A small flowered china one Tom had bought Heather for Sophie’s birth, and a cherrywood one Heather had asked Cooper, who was a woodworker, to make for Tom last Christmas for his paperclips that kept getting caught up in the vacuum. Earl Earle had promised to put the boxes into the appropriate caskets before burial.

  Rachel had brought a book that a friend had given to Scott when his father had died. Beautifully illustrated, Lifetimes explained life and death in a sensitive, caring way to children suffering a loss, explaining that everything, plants, animals, birds, fish, and people, had their own special lifetime. That there’s always a beginning. And always an ending.

  “And the in between,” she read quietly to the avidly attentive children who’d grown hushed as she’d turned the pages, “is living.”

  Sophie, who was only there for Jack, had chosen not to speak. But Jack had insisted that he’d wanted to say something.

  “I had the best mom and dad ever,” he said. “Mom gave me this string when I was a little kid.” He pulled it out of the pocket of his dress jeans. It was four wool threads: blue, red, yellow, and green woven together. “She said that it repa . . . repr . . .”

  “Represented,” Sophie said from where she was standing against the wall with Austin, who was wearing a Lexi-approved basic black dress she’d bought to wear to last year’s Cattleman’s Association banquet. Standing with them, Sawyer was in a dark suit borrowed from Cooper and dress boots that appeared to be the same ones he’d worn to the couple’s wedding.

  “Yeah. Represented,” Jack said with a decisive nod of his red head. “That’s it. It means that it’s like us. Mom, Dad, Sophie, and me. And that as long as I keep it, we’ll all be together. No matter what.”

  Austin felt the tears stinging against the backs of her lids again. So much for swearing not to cry until they’d gotten through all this. “Did you know about that?” she quietly asked Sophie.

  “Yeah. She gave me one, too. I use it as a bookmark in my diary.”

  The diary Austin had stuck into the suitcase at the last moment. She’d seen the woven threads, never knowing their significance. “That’s very special.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So,” Jack said. “Because Mom and Dad’s special lifetime ended, we’re going to bury them, like we did Riley. Though not at Austin’s ranch,” he tacked on, looking over at Sophie as if worried she’d yell at him again for getting it wrong. “But in a special place Sawyer and Austin found for them in the cemetery, where Sawyer’s mom is, too. But they won’t really be gone, because they’re always going to be watching over us, and we’ll always be connected. Because of this string.”

  He blew out a breath. “And I guess that’s all I wanted to say.”

  He sat down as the children clapped, the same way they had when Rachel had finished reading the book. In the back of the room, Rachel was passing the box of tissues to the parents, many of whom were openly sniffling, while others dabbed at wet eyes.

  The children seemed less affected, some even raising their hands to ask questions about life and death to a deacon who ran the youth programs. Rather than a sad occasion, it seemed more a celebration of Tom’s and Heather Campbell’s lives, as Austin had told the children funerals should be. And when Kasey Montgomery, who headed up the choir, stood up to sing Jack’s choice of “Circle of Life” from The Lion King, every boy and girl, who’d all probably watched the DVD a dozen times, at least, jumped up to joyfully sing along. While in the back of the room, another tissue box was brought out and passed around.

  They’d been blessed with a bright, warm, and sunny day, so the children were able to go outside i
nto the church courtyard and send iridescent soap bubbles floating into the blue sky while Sawyer and Cooper helped Sophie and Jack plant the two elm trees they’d bought yesterday in memory of their parents.

  After that emotional twenty minutes, Austin was glad that neither she nor Sawyer had opted to say anything personal during the adult service. She knew she wouldn’t have made it through the funeral mass without bursting into tears. Which she nearly ended up doing as the caskets had been carried out to “Amazing Grace” being played on a set of bagpipes by a member of the volunteer fire department wearing the Clan Campbell tartan.

  And finally, as they’d stood there while Father Cassidy concluded the funeral service, looking past the caskets toward the reflection of the puffy white clouds in the clear blue waters of Glass Lake, Austin understood about Sawyer’s dad’s bench beneath the tree. It was a perfect place. A calm place. One she thought the couple, who’d spent so many happy family times on that very lake, would have approved of.

  She’d seen the Carpenters sitting in the back of the church, which had been filled to standing-room only, as she’d filed out with the family behind the caskets. Her eyes had met theirs for a moment, and she’d wanted to let them know in some way that they were not to blame. But they quickly looked away. The devastation of the events had shown on their faces, and she could only hope that they’d found some comfort in the service. The fact that they hadn’t come to the interment suggested acceptance might be a long way off.

  She’d just made a mental note to ask the priest, Cooper, or maybe even Ryan if there was anything that could be done to ease the couple’s minds and hearts when Kira Taylor, Sophie’s honors science teacher, came over to her.

  “I was glad to see Sophie looking well,” she told Austin after introducing herself. “We’ve been worried about her.”

  “It’s been difficult, but she has a lot of love and support.”

  “I knew she would, which is why I haven’t wanted to disturb whatever stage of grief you all are in right now,” she said, a bit of the soft, magnolia South in her voice. “I was going to email you, but decided that was too impersonal. Do you have any idea when Sophie will be coming back to school?”

  “Probably in another day or so,” Austin said. “We’re sort of playing everything by ear.”

  “Totally understandable. We weren’t sure, being so close to the end of the year, that she’d be back at all. We were hoping she’d at least be able to make graduation.”

  Graduation? How could she have forgotten about that? Heather had gotten Sophie a certificate for a mother-daughter mani-pedi. And planned to surprise her with an appointment to have her ears pierced while they were at the spa, which Sophie had been asking for since fourth grade.

  “I expect so.”

  “I’m glad. She’s achieved some special awards, and I’d hate to have her miss receiving the recognition she deserves. So, we’ll be looking forward to seeing you next Saturday.”

  “Absolutely,” Austin said as her mind spun. “I’m sorry, things have been so hectic. What time was that again?”

  “Five thirty. We wanted to leave time for parents to take their graduates out to dinner.”

  Another note to self: Ask Rachel for a reservation for four. No, she amended, glancing over at her father, who was sitting in his cruiser, talking with Fred Wiley and Cal Potter. Make that five.

  36

  THE OTHERS TOOK the children back to the ranch while Sawyer and Austin spent thirty minutes at the funeral luncheon, listening to stories of how Heather and Tom had impacted so many lives. After leaving the others still sharing memories, they drove to Colton’s law office for the official reading of the will. They weren’t the only people in the room. Although the couple hadn’t had a great deal of money, they’d always been generous, which had continued beyond their death.

  They’d given bequests to the Modoc County and River’s Bend Food Banks; Our Table, a local nonprofit focusing on providing the community with locally grown, accessible, and affordable food; and Project Linus, a national nonprofit that provided homemade blankets for children in need. There was also a gift to the volunteer fire department to aid in the search and funding for a full-time professional fire chief.

  While the others were not a surprise, given the couple’s long-held advocacy to fight hunger and Heather having woven countless blankets for Project Linus, Austin had to wonder if one reason for the fire department being included stemmed from that fried chicken grease fire.

  The rest of their estate, as Colton had already told them, had been put in a trust for Sophie and Jack, with Austin as guardian.

  “Whew,” she said as she and Sawyer drove out of town. “I’m really glad you had that idea to make yesterday a quiet one. Because this has been one of the longest days of my life.”

  “It’s partly the pressure to make everything turn out well. Not just for Tom and Heather’s memories but for the kids.”

  “Exactly.” She thought back over the day. “Did Sophie seem different to you?”

  “Other than looking too grown up for comfort?”

  “It was more than that,” Austin mused. “She seemed to be really at peace for the first time since all this happened.”

  “That’d be great if it’s true. But it seems awfully fast.”

  “I know. But just for today, I’m going to be optimistic.” She told him about the graduation. “Her teacher says she’s going to get some awards.”

  “I’m not surprised. She’s smart as a whip and super responsible.”

  “That undoubtedly comes from being older.”

  “Yeah. She’ll probably grow up to be just like Coop. Playing big sister to Jack even when they’re in their eighties.”

  “Probably. She didn’t seem overly upset that Madison didn’t show up.” Austin would be eternally grateful for the mean girl’s absence.

  “Maybe she’s wising up. That girl is trouble.”

  Yet another thing they agreed on.

  *

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Green Springs, Jack was out with Cooper, Buck, and Scott playing horseshoes.

  “Good thing for the windows the horseshoe pit is far from the house,” Rachel commented dryly as Jack’s horseshoe went sailing over the post.

  “The kid could end up with one helluva sports career,” Sawyer said. A second horseshoe landed even farther than the first, a good three feet left of the target. “Though we’ll have to work on control.”

  Sophie, who’d gone directly to her room after arriving home, came downstairs dressed in jeans and a pink T-shirt with a silk-screened rainbow and unicorn on the front. Always be yourself, it read. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then be a unicorn.

  “Did you mean what you said about me having my own horse?” she asked Austin.

  “Of course.”

  “Then can we go look at the horses now?”

  There was nothing the girl could have asked for today that Austin wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to try to give her. This, fortunately, was easy. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s go steal some carrots from the refrigerator.”

  Carrots in hand, after stopping to get a halter and a lead rope, they went out to the pasture where the horses were grazing beneath the spreading arms of a tree growing next to the natural springs that had given the ranch its name.

  “Which one is mine?” Sophie asked.

  “Let’s call her and see,” Austin said. Then cupped her hands together and called out, “Misty!”

  A copper-red mare immediately lifted her head, whinnied, then came trotting toward them.

  “I guessed it’d be the gray horse,” Sophie said. “Is she named after Misty of Chincoteague?” The series of books about the wild ponies had been Austin’s favorites, and she’d loved sharing them with Sophie over the years.

  “No.” The sorrel came up to the fence and nickered. “She was born on a morning the fog was rolling in from the river, like ghosts floating in the air, so thick you could hardly see your hand in fro
nt of your face.” As soon as she’d said the ghost reference, Austin wished she could pull the word back. “Here.” She handed Sophie a carrot in hopes of distracting her. “She loves carrots even more than sugar cubes. Hand her one.”

  Sophie held out the carrot. She’d been around horses enough at Green Springs that she had a healthy caution but no fear. “Hi, Misty. I’m Sophie. And we’re going to be very best friends.”

  The horse had always been mild-tempered, affectionate in a way not every horse was, and easy to train. When she lowered her head after finishing off the carrot, Austin knew for a fact that Misty and Sophie would be well suited.

  “She likes you. And wants you to touch her.”

  “Good Misty. You’re so beautiful.” She ran her hand down the flaxen mane that matched the mare’s tail. “I thought this was going to be the worst day of my life,” she told Austin as she rubbed the horse’s forehead. “But it turned out to be really good. I saw my mother and now I have my very own horse.”

  “You saw your mother?” The revelation was stated so casually Austin wasn’t certain she’d heard right.

  “She visited me right before the funeral,” Sophie said as Misty nudged her. “Can I give her another carrot?”

  “Sure . . . Before the funeral?”

  “That’s why I didn’t open the door right away. Because she was telling me about my life and Jack’s, how our futures were going to be amazing, and that she’d always be with me.”

  “That’s very special.”

  Sophie turned away from the mare just long enough to smile. “Isn’t it? She couldn’t remember what heaven’s like, but that’s okay because she told me it’s wonderful.”

  The girl had always had an active imagination, but Austin had the feeling that she wasn’t making this up. “If there’s anyone who could pull off a visit like that, it’d be your mom,” she said. “Did she visit Jack, too?”