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“What was it like growing up without your parents?”

Her question surprises me, and I blink a few times. No one has asked me that in some time.

“Sorry, there was probably a better way to ease into that topic. I was just thinking of Caleb’s son or daughter and how they’re not going to grow up with their father.”

Ah, now I understand how it came up. “It was tough… at first. But we had Roy, so that made it a little easier. It didn’t replace my parents, but it made the loss more bearable. We still had an adult in our lives who loved us. If it weren’t for him, who knows where we would’ve ended up? We might have been split up.”

Collins’s head tilts. “Do you remember anything about your mom?”

“Not a lot. I was five when she died, so I have impressions of her more than actual memories. The memories I do have are more like snippets than anything, and I can never be sure if it’s a true memory or just something I imagined after being told the story.”

I struggled with that for a long time. Every year that passes, you forget more and more about that person. That’s why when Caleb died, I dreaded every month that passed, knowing eventually I’d forget his voice, or his laughter, or stories that I only remember from my side or Fowler’s when we were growing up. He wouldn’t be there to argue that I had it all wrong.

“And your dad? I know he’s in prison, but I don’t really know the full story.” She raises both hands. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not something I ever really discuss with anyone, but I find myself wanting to tell Collins. I want her to know that no matter how hard life knocks her down, she’ll always have the strength to get back up. “After my mom died, my dad sort of went off the rails. He couldn’t deal. Hollis was a newborn, and he already had three kids at home. Over time, he got into drugs and alcohol, then he got caught drinking and driving. He probably did it hundreds of times after that, but it was years later before he got picked up again. He hit and killed someone, and because that someone was the son of someone important, the judge gave him the maximum sentence.”

“Wow. Jeez, I’m sorry, Ansel.”

I shrug. “It was a long time ago, and he made his decisions.”

I wish I actually felt as nonchalant about it as I pretend I do. The truth is that I’m constantly worried I’ll fail someone I love the way my dad failed all of us.

“Do any of you still talk to him?”

I shake my head. “I think my uncle might, but he doesn’t talk to us about it if he does. Knows we’re not interested in knowing. The funny thing is I don’t think the reason we don’t speak to him is because he went to prison. It’s the years before that, when he was totally checked out as a parent, that hurt the most. It wasn’t like he had any substance abuse issues before that, so it’s hard not to feel like he made the choice to deal with his pain that way. And if he didn’t have four kids at home who needed him, I guess… I don’t know… maybe it would feel different. But he did have four kids relying on him, and he let each of us down. If it weren’t for all that, we’d probably still have some kind of relationship with him even though we hate the fact he got in that car and took someone’s life.”

She cups my face. “That makes sense. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

I twist my face and kiss her palm. “Thank you.” What else can I say?

We’re both quiet for a moment, and I shift to face her better.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She motions toward me. “Have at it. You pretty much know everything. All the terrible stuff anyway.”

“When Caleb first died, I thought for sure you’d move away. Figured there were too many memories here, and you didn’t have any family keeping you here. Why did you stay?”

I thought the moving truck would be at her house a month after Caleb died.

“You might’ve heard me talk about how I was an army brat growing up, right?”

I nod. Caleb mentioned it a few times.

“I never had the opportunity to make the kind of friends who stick because we were constantly moving. It felt like as soon as I started to get my bearings and get comfortable in a new place, we were up and leaving.”

“That must have been hard.” I bring the Thermos to my mouth and drink the hot apple cider.

“You get used to it, I guess. It was all I really knew. It wasn’t until Caleb brought me here that anywhere felt like home to me. I’d heard people talk about that feeling my whole life, but I never knew what they meant. Not until Echo Lake. That’s why I decided to stay. I like that people know you, care about you, check up on you. Like a big extended family.”

My gut twists when I think about my interview in Portland earlier this week. It went well. So well that I won’t be surprised if I’m offered the job. Not only have I not told Collins about it, but after hearing her answer, I know there’s no way I could ever ask her to leave Echo Lake. Even if we did long distance for a period of time, if things were going to be permanent between us, I couldn’t ask her to leave.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m still here.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Now I can’t imagine leaving Echo Lake.” The look she gives me implies that I’m a part of the reason why she wants to stay, unknowingly shoving the knife a little deeper into my guilt.

I abruptly stand. “We should probably get going.”

She blinks a few times in surprise. “Oh, yeah, sure.”