Amelia
Chapter Twenty-One
Amelia
M om’s office held the peace of the early morning, sunlight streaming through newly repaired windows to paint diamond patterns across the worn carpet where she’d once walked. My fingers found the smooth edge of her desk, polished by years of her touch, while the familiar painting watched from pine-paneled walls. Fresh coffee mingled with old books and mountain air, stirring memories with each breath.
A floorboard creaked in the doorway. The scent of Dad’s aftershave reached me before his reflection appeared in the window—standing straighter now as if the truth had lightened a physical burden. Silver threaded his hair in the morning light, but his eyes held a clarity I hadn’t seen in years.
My throat tightened at the sight of him whole again. “Just thinking.”
His footsteps whispered across the carpet as he joined me, studying the painting where Mom and Richard Miller stood before a younger Pine Haven. “Your mother spent every sunrise here.” His fingers trembled against the desk’s edge. “She’d stand right where you are now, planning her day, coffee getting cold while she watched the mountains wake up.”
“Did you know?” The question escaped before I could catch it, carrying years of wondering in those simple words.
Dad’s breath caught. His hand found the painting’s frame, steadying himself. “Not all of it. She protected me too, in her way.” A tear caught the morning light as it fell. “Knew I’d try to stop her if I understood the danger.”
The silence between us softened like fresh snow, no longer heavy with secrets but gentle with understanding.
Dad’s jacket rustled as he withdrew an envelope, the paper worn soft with age. Mom’s handwriting flowed across the front, achingly familiar. “Found these in the house. Letters she wrote you, one for each birthday she’d miss. After...” His voice cracked. “After she was gone, I couldn’t...” The envelope shook in his hands.
My fingers trembled as I took it, feeling years of unspoken love pressed between paper. “Dad—”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his touch carrying decades of love and regret.
A shadow in the doorway drew my gaze to Michael. He shifted his weight like the uncertain teenager he’d been that night, dawn stretching his shadow long behind him.
“Come in.” The words came soft as morning light. “This belongs to you, too.”
Michael’s shoes whispered against the carpet as he joined us. The morning sun warmed the canvas that had watched over Pine Haven, over all of us, for so long.
“Family meeting without me?” Hunter’s voice carried warmth as pine and coffee scents announced his arrival.
My body swayed toward him instinctively, seeking his steady presence.
His fingers laced through mine as he nodded to Dad. “Contractors are here about the community center. And Mom’s asking about lunch.”
Dad straightened at the mention of Katherine Miller, something flickering in his eyes. “I should speak with her. About everything.”
“Dad—” Michael started, but Dad’s shoulders squared with newfound resolve.
“No more hiding. It’s time we all talked. Really talked.”
Michael followed him out, pausing to squeeze my shoulder in the same protective way he always had since I was a child.
Hunter’s arms slipped around my waist, his warmth steady against morning’s lingering chill. “You okay?”
I turned to find his eyes soft and concerned. “Getting there.” My fingers traced the familiar pattern of his shirt buttons. “Thank you for being patient with all this family drama.”
His laugh rumbled against my palms. “Like the Millers are any better? Mom’s already planning Sunday dinners for everyone.” Joy brightened his voice at the casual mention of ‘Mom’.
Warmth spread through me at the image—our families healing together, building something new from old wounds.
Hunter’s eyes crinkled with that look that promised mischief. “Speaking of building, I have something to show you.”
“The contractors—”
“Not about that.” His fingers twined with mine, tugging gently. “Come on.”
We wound through Pine Haven’s halls past Claire orchestrating social media updates, past Taylor bandaging a volunteer while Van’s baseball tricks drew children’s laughter. Everyone’s eyes followed us with barely concealed excitement, hidden smiles playing on their lips.
“Hunter—”
“Almost there.”
The deck where everything began had transformed. Soft blues and greens echoed the mountain view in new furnishings. Flowering plants spilled over railings, their sweetness mixing with pine-scented air. Overhead, lights hung like captured stars waiting for dusk.
My hand flew to my mouth. “When did you—”
“Last night, after you fell asleep at your desk.” He rubbed his neck, a gesture that always betrayed his nerves. “Had help. Mom’s quite the gardener.” Pride colored the word ‘Mom’.
Tears pricked at the image of Hunter and Katherine working in darkness, creating beauty together.
“The thing is,” he guided me to the railing where valley colors painted the morning, “we never got that proper first date. And I thought, maybe...”
A table waited, set with bear claws from Marie’s bakery. Cinnamon and sugar rode the mountain breeze.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you.” His voice dropped low, intimate. “How you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking. The way you grip your coffee cup on hard mornings. Your courage that first night when everything fell apart.”
“Hunter—”
“Let me finish?” His hands found mine, thumbs tracing my knuckles. “We did everything backward—crisis and confessions and ‘I love yous’ while facing down madmen. But you deserve romance too. Real dates. Quiet moments. A chance to just be us.”
“I love you.” The words came soft as morning light, carrying everything my heart held. “Backwards and forwards and every way in between.”
His kiss tasted of coffee.
A delighted squeal broke the moment—Claire trying to hustle a grinning Taylor away, their whispered argument carrying clear in the mountain air.
“Sorry!” Taylor’s eyes danced with joy. “Just checking if you need anything!”
“Besides privacy?” Hunter laughed against my hair, arms still warm around me.
“Good luck with that.” Van appeared with Chad, who babbled a happy greeting. “Pretty sure your mom’s watching from the lobby.”
Sure enough, Katherine stood with Dad and Michael, all pretending to be absorbed in paperwork while stealing glances our way.
“Our families are ridiculous.” But happiness bubbled up like spring water in me.
“They’re ours though.” Hunter held my chair with old-world courtesy. “Now, about that first date...”
The afternoon wrapped around us in gentle conversation. Mountain air warmed as Hunter described youth programs, his eyes lighting with each detail. I shared environmental education dreams, carrying Mom’s work forward. Our visions twined like Katherine’s flowering vines.
“I used to dream about this,” he said, reaching for my hand and drawing patterns on my skin.
“Lunch on the deck?”
“Just being with you. No crisis. No deadlines. Just us.”
Katherine’s flowers perfumed the breeze while Claire directed photography below, making chaos seem orchestrated.
My fingers found the photograph I’d discovered that morning. Two teenage girls smiled from the science fair victory, youthful faces bright with determination and friendship.
“Taylor and me. So young...”
Hunter traced the time-worn edge. “Same smile, though. The one that lights up your whole face.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “You didn’t know me then.”
“I noticed you.” His voice held quiet certainty. “Every time you visited Taylor. Every family gathering. I just never thought...”
“And now?”
His eyes held mine, full and steady. “Now I’m never letting you go.”
“Good.” I squeezed his hand, feeling strength flow between us. “Because I have plans for us, Hunter Miller.”
“Yeah?” His smile warmed me more than the mountain sun.
“Big plans. Pine Haven plans. Life plans.”
Before he could respond, Claire appeared. Excitement rather than apology brightened her face as she clutched her tablet.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the Historical Society sent the final trust paperwork. And...” She drew a sharp breath. “There’s something about your mother’s environmental research, Amelia.”
The leather folder she offered carried Mom’s office scent. Inside, familiar handwriting-filled pages—water samples, soil tests, wildlife patterns. But more lay beneath. Maps marked with unknown locations stretched back decades, each note precise and purposeful.
My hands shook as understanding dawned. “These aren’t just about Pine Haven. They’re about the entire valley. Mom was tracking ecosystem changes, building a case for...”
“A National Conservation Area,” Claire finished softly. “The application was nearly complete when she... All it needs is...”
“Community support.” Hunter’s hand warmed my shoulder. “Which we have now.”
I met his gaze, seeing the future bright in hazel depths. “Think bigger?”
Through deck doors, our families failed at pretending not to watch. Dad and Katherine bent close in conversation, healing old wounds word by word. Michael showed Taylor something on his phone, their easy friendship returning. Van demonstrated pitching technique to Chad, whose cheerful sounds rode the breeze.
“They’ll all want to help,” Hunter murmured against my hair.
“Good.” Mom’s research weighed solid in my hands, promises filling each breath. “Because this is just the beginning.”
His eyes softened. When we hugged earlier, the small box pressing against my side seemed to pulse with possibility.
But that surprise could wait.
Right now, we have a conservation area to plan, a resort to rebuild, and a first date to finish.
And this time, nothing would interrupt us.
Mountain air carried Katherine’s flowers, Mom’s legacy, and our future—the perfect recipe for tomorrow.