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I turned it over in my hands, examining the front. It was a collection of landscapes, from Mt. Denali to the Chicago skyline.
“My son says we need to drum up new business,” the woman explained somewhat apologetically.
I smiled, “Will do.” I followed her husband to his pickup truck, slung the one bag I was taking with me into the bed, and climbed into the passenger seat.
My new driver was much more talkative than the old one had been. He waxed philosophical about small towns and the people in them. He told me all about the librarian and how she wouldn’t let him off the hook for an overdue book, even though he had been to elementary school with her. I was grateful when he finally turned off the main road and began the climb to Macy’s cabin. It was dusk, and magic had settled on the forest. I could hear the songs of birds calling to each other through the trees. We could see just far enough to know that the woods went on forever in all directions. As we drove, a deer ambled past, unconcerned by our intrusion. We pulled up to the driveway and honked the horn.
Abruptly, the cabin door flew open and two children raced out to greet us. Macy and Dillon stepped out onto the porch to supervise, wearing big, welcoming smiles. Nicky and Daisy hopped down the steps to dance around the truck.
“Did you bring us anything? Did you bring us anything?” they cried, clearly more excited about the prospect of presents than seeing their cousin.
I laughed. The old man from the storage place grabbed my bag out of the back and handed it over to Dillon.
“Won’t you come in for some dinner?” Macy asked him.
“No, thank you,” he said with a wink. “My wife’s cooking, and I would be in a lot of trouble if I didn’t save my appetite.”
Macy laughed.
“Here.” I remembered the calendar and thrust it at her.
She shuffled the toddler in her arms to work a hand free. “This is nice.”
“All your storage needs and whatnot,” the man said with a smile.
“Thanks for giving me a ride.” I waved as he got back in his truck and rumbled down the hill.
“Come in.” Macy stood aside to allow me to enter.
I hugged her around her wiggling toddler. I hugged Dillon and fought to detach myself from Nicky and Daisy as they latched onto my legs.
“What did you bring us?” Nicky sang.
“Okay, okay,” I laughed. I grabbed my bag, overwhelmed with the welcome.
“Give her a minute,” Macy said, following us inside.
The family had clearly eaten already, and the kids were dressed for bed. I sat down on the couch and opened my bag. Inside were two little toys I had grabbed at a drugstore on my way out of Austin. It wasn’t anything special, but the kids were overjoyed. I watched them hug their new treasures to their cheeks and accepted kisses as payment.
“Bedtime,” Macy said.
“Mom,” Nicky complained.
“Tammy will be here tomorrow,” Macy promised.
The kids stood up and followed their father into one of the adjoining rooms. There was half a moment of blissful peace. I could breathe the fresh country air and appreciate the smell of the hardwood floors. Then Emily started crying, and Macy had to excuse herself.
“There’s chicken pot pie in the fridge. Help yourself to a beer,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” I didn’t even get up, exhausted from the trip. The cabin lights were warm, exposing a slice of life that was different from anything I had experienced before. Toys were scattered across the floor, a baby Binky and an empty beer bottle on the end table. There were dishes in the sink, but the table was clean. The cabin was lived-in and happy; I could feel it in my bones. This vacation with Macy would be a welcome diversion from single life. I could finally forget the trauma of losing my parents and the ex-boyfriend who had cheated on me and put down roots in a family town. All that lingering pain felt strange on me in this moment, and I could only explain it as feelings of hope.
I kicked my boots off and curled up on the couch to wait for Macy or Dillon, confident that I was going to fit in just fine.
3
MIKE
Istood beside Mr. Bucks, waiting for him to decide what length fence posts he wanted. He owned the hardware store on Main Street and had an order he was trying to fill. He had been old when I was in high school, so who knew how much older he was now. My signature customer service attribute was patience. I just stood still, letting him work the math out in his head.
