Hunter
Chapter Twenty
Hunter
A melia directed cleanup crews through Pine Haven’s lobby, her natural leadership shining even through bone-deep exhaustion. Early morning light caught gold in her hair as she guided workers around historic beams being reinforced, somehow making dust and construction look like a dance. When she caught me watching, her smile sent a flutter through my heart. Just like that first night, we’d worked late together.
“She’s remarkable.” Claire appeared at my elbow, site reports tucked under her arm radiating warmth from the printer. Her voice carried the same pride I felt watching Amelia kneel to explain restoration details to a curious child, making complicated processes sound like fairy tales.
“The Historical Society approved emergency restoration funding,” she added, shuffling papers with efficient movements.
“Of course they did.” Pride warmed my voice as Amelia’s hands traced the weathered wood, showing the same care her mother once had. “Nobody can resist her when she’s on a mission.”
Claire’s expression softened with understanding. “Your mother’s waiting in the old reading room. Taylor and Van are already there.”
My heart stumbled. After last night’s chaos, we hadn’t had a proper moment together. Having her back still felt like a dream I might wake from. “Would you?”
“I’ll keep Amelia busy,” she promised, moving toward her friend with purposeful steps. “Take your time.”
The reading room held my earliest memories—Mom bringing stories alive from the old leather chair while Dad talked business with the Hortons by the fireplace. Fifteen years hadn’t changed the scent of books and pine, or the way morning light painted warmth across wooden shelves. Now Mom sat in her favorite chair, silver hair catching sunbeams, both achingly familiar and startlingly new.
“Mom.” The word caught in my throat, fifteen years of missing her compressed into that single syllable.
She turned, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Hunter.” Her voice carried all the love she’d held from afar.
Three strides closed the distance between us. She felt smaller in my arms than my memory painted her, but her embrace held the same fierce strength. Her perfume—the one she’d worn throughout my childhood—mixed with fresh mountain air from the open window, bridging past and present.
“My boy,” she whispered against my shoulder, tears warming my shirt. “My brave, wonderful boy.”
“Uncle Hunter’s not crying, is he?” Taylor’s voice cracked as she joined our embrace, Van beside her with Chad. My sister’s tears broke whatever control I’d been clinging to.
“Like you’re not,” I managed, widening our circle to include her.
Mom drew back just enough to see us clearly, her hands trembling as they framed our faces. “Look at you both. I’ve missed so much.” Her fingers traced the story of years in the lines around Taylor’s eyes, the stubble on my jaw—changes time had written while she watched from shadows.
“But you saw it all, didn’t you?” Taylor bounced Chad gently as he stirred against her shoulder. “All these years?”
“Every moment I could.” Mom touched Taylor’s cheek, then reached for Chad with questioning eyes. “May I?”
Van transferred his son to his grandmother’s arms with careful grace. Mom holding Chad, her first grandchild, filled me with a sweet ache. She swayed with the same gentle rhythm I remembered from my childhood.
“He has the Miller’s eyes,” she murmured, tracing Chad’s tiny features with reverent fingers. The morning light caught the moisture on her cheeks.
“And the Miller stubbornness,” Van added, making laughter echo off book-lined walls that had witnessed generations of family moments.
“Katherine Miller, professional baby whisperer.” Taylor teased as Chad settled instantly, tiny fingers claiming his grandmother’s thumb.
“I’ve had practice.” Mom’s eyes found mine over Chad’s downy head, memories shimmering between us. “Watching you with the kids at your baseball clinics. You’re so good with them, Hunter. Just like your father was.”
“I tried to make him proud.” The confession scraped raw from my throat.
“Oh, baby.” Her free hand found mine, warm and sure despite the years between us. “He was always proud. So am I.”
Morning quiet wrapped around us as we shared stories, filling in blank spaces with love and understanding. Mom told us about watching from afar, working with the FBI, and never being more than a few hours’ drive from our lives. The old clock marked each revelation, each healing moment with steady ticks.
“The hardest part,” she adjusted Chad’s blanket with practiced hands, “was not running to you in difficult moments. Your championship loss, Hunter. When Grams died. Taylor and Van’s wedding.” Each memory trembled in her voice.
“All this time,” I watched the sunlight dance across book spines, “right at the edges of our lives.”
“Protecting us,” Taylor leaned into Van’s steady presence, “like you always did.”
Mom’s smile turned soft as she looked between us. “I see how you protect each other now. Your own little family. And growing...” Her eyes sparked, knowing warmth my way. “That Horton girl... she’s special.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Mom...”
“What?” She bounced Chad with natural ease, his baby sounds filling quiet corners. “The way you look at her... it’s how your father used to look at me. Like she’s the answer to every question you never thought to ask.”
“They’re disgustingly adorable.” Taylor nudged my shoulder. “You should see them working together. Like they share one brain.”
Van chuckled, drawing Taylor closer. “Like someone else I know.”
“My children,” Mom’s smile included Van, who’d been family since baseball diamond days, “all grown up, all in love. All I ever wanted was your happiness.”
“We are,” I assured her, truth settling warm in my chest. “Especially now.”
A gentle knock broke the moment. Claire stood in the doorway, professional but apologetic, as the scent of coffee drifted in with her.
“Sorry, but the Historical Society board arrived early. They need signatures...”
“Go,” Mom squeezed my hand, her touch familiar as sunrise. “We have time now. All the time in the world.”
Taylor’s stories about Chad’s birth and Van’s proud papa commentary followed me down the hallway, the sounds of family whole and healing echoing off pine walls.
The Historical Society board filled Pine Haven’s conference room, skepticism melting into impressed nods as Amelia presented restoration plans. I watched from the back, content to see her shine in morning light streaming through newly repaired windows.
“The community center will focus on environmental education,” she traced blueprints spread across the antique table, her mother’s bracelet catching light as she gestured. “Teaching the next generation to protect what makes this valley special.”
“Just like your mother,” a board member said softly, respect warming his voice.
The comment caught Amelia off guard briefly, but she recovered with grace, her smile softening like morning frost. Through the window, Michael coordinated volunteers, making amends in practical ways. Morning sun stretched shadows across grounds where generations had built memories.
Sandra approached with fresh documents still warm from printing. “Everything’s ready for the trust formation. We just need to establish community board members.”
“Already have suggestions.” I thought of Tom Parker’s security expertise and Marie’s business sense—people who’d proven their commitment through years of loyalty.
“Hunter.” Amelia’s voice drew me like gravity. She stood by the window, morning light creating a halo in her hair. “You disappeared earlier...”
“Yeah.” I moved to her side, drawn as always to her warmth. “Had some family time with Mom. Taylor and Van brought Chad.”
Understanding softened her features. “Good. You needed that.”
“She wants to meet you properly,” I observed her reaction. “When things settle down.”
“I’d like that.” She leaned slightly into me, vanilla and coffee mixing with the morning air. “You okay?”
I pressed a kiss to her temple, overwhelmed by rightness. “Better than okay.”
Sandra cleared her throat gently. “Not to interrupt, but there’s something else you should see.”
The newspaper she handed us carried the scent of time and cedar like it had slept in an old chest. Its headline read: “Local Children Win Environmental Science Fair.”
Two girls smiled from the yellowed photo, barely teenagers, proudly displaying their water conservation project. Their expressions were bright with accomplishment, unaware of how their paths would weave together.
“Is that...” Amelia’s voice caught, her finger trembling against the image.
“You and Taylor,” Sandra smiled. “Your mothers kept this. It was in the safe with the other evidence.”
“I remember this.” Amelia traced the photo with gentle fingers. “Mom helped us research. We won first place. She was so proud...”
“You were already protecting Pine Haven,” I murmured. “Even then.”
Her eyes met mine, full as mountain lakes after the spring thaw. “We’re still protecting it. All of us.”
Through the window, our community worked as one. Michael and Claire coordinated volunteers with synchronized grace. Taylor treated minor injuries while Van entertained children with baseball tricks, his professional skills bringing joy. Mom rocked Chad while talking with longtime guests, bridging time’s wide river.
“Look what you’ve built,” I breathed against her hair.
“What we’ve built,” she corrected, turning in my arms. “Together.”
Sandra slipped away as Amelia looked up at me, the morning light catching gold flecks in her eyes.
“You know,” she said softly, her eyes holding that mix of playfulness and depth that never failed to catch my breath, “we never had that dinner date.”
“True.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger. “Though we said ‘I love you’ while disarming a madman, so...”
Her laugh warmed me like a sunrise. “Romantic.”
“Give me a chance to do better?”
“Always.”
The small box in my pocket held possibilities like seeds waiting for spring. Through the window, I caught Mom’s knowing smile, Taylor’s excited grin, Van’s subtle thumbs up.
Looking at Pine Haven, my family, and Amelia in my arms, I knew Mom was right.
The future was bright.
And this time, we’d face it together.
All of us.
Some traditions were worth keeping.
Some changes are worth embracing.
Some loves are worth waiting for.