Wrapped in Winter (Seasons in Montana: Winter)

PROLOGUE 15 years ago

I t’s been six days—one hundred and forty-four hours—since my dad passed.

Ninety-two days since the back pain he finally had checked turned out to be cancer.

He had been having back pain for almost a month. Mom finally convinced him to go to the chiropractor. The chiropractor said he felt a lump and sent him for a cat scan. The CAT scan revealed a large mass growing on his spine. Further tests confirmed it was cancer, and now, here we stand.

No notice. No time to adjust. Not that there is ever a good time to lose a parent.

The line of people is never-ending, and I just want to run from this funeral home. The sorrowful looks are too much. My baby sisters haven’t stopped crying, and the sound is grating on my nerves. My older brother is like a zombie. And Mom won’t stop smiling and thanking everyone for coming. This isn’t a party. What the hell is she smiling for?

Nothing makes sense.

But we’re all kids. Mom just turned forty. How do we carry on for another full lifetime without him?

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man and this town will feel his absence for quite some time.”

I look on as my barely seventeen-year-old brother stands perfectly still, the only tremble in his body coming from his bottom lip. I squeeze his hand and he bites that same lip. “Thank you, Miss Trudy.”

“I know you’ll do the right thing by your mother and sisters and step into his role. It’s big shoes to fill, but you can do it.”

Miss Trudy taps his cheek twice before moving down the reception line. “January, you’re the oldest daughter, and you have a big role to fill as well. Your mother is going to need to grieve, and you're going to have to take care of your sisters.”

What about my grief? How can I be expected to step into something I can barely understand?

At fifteen years old, I should be at cheerleading practice and sneaking out of the house on Friday nights, not becoming a second-mom to my two younger sisters.

But for right now? I have to bury that grief, and push on for them.

“I know. I will do my best.”

She gives me a look like my best better be enough and moves away from me.

The pressure bestowed upon us today will last the rest of our lives. It’s a crushing weight that’s forever changed who we are and who we will become, I’m sure of it.