Chapter 19 Emma #2
We packed up our picnic things slowly, no one eager to leave. Sarah helped fold the blanket, her movements careful and deliberate. Then she lingered near me, shuffling her feet, picking at the zipper on her jacket.
"Emma?" Her voice was small.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Can I..." She stopped. Started again. "Never mind."
"What is it?"
"It's dumb."
"I bet it's not."
She shuffled some more. Picked up a pinecone, examined it intensely, and set it down. Cole had gone back to check something in his pack, giving us space—intentionally, I suspected.
"Can I call you something other than Ms. Reed?" Sarah finally asked, the words rushing out. "Or Emma?"
My heart stuttered. "What would you like to call me?"
She took a deep, fortifying breath, like she was about to jump off a diving board. "Could I maybe... call you Mom?" Before I could react, she rushed on: "Not instead of my real mom! I know I have a mommy in the stars. But like... would you be my new mom? My here-mom?"
The world went soft around the edges. My vision blurred with sudden tears.
"Sarah," I managed, my voice cracking. I dropped to my knees in the pine needles, bringing myself to her level. "I would be so honored."
"Really?"
"Really. Your first mom will always be your special, heavenly mom. Nobody can ever replace her. But I would love—" My voice broke completely. I had to take a breath before continuing. "I would love to be your here-mom. If that's what you want."
"That's what I want," she said, and threw herself into my arms.
I held her tight, this incredible, resilient, brave little girl.
Her small body shook slightly, she was crying, I realized.
I was crying too. Over her shoulder, I saw Cole standing a few feet away, and he was crying as well, silent tears tracking through the dust on his cheeks.
His expression was so full of love that it made my chest ache.
"I love you," Sarah mumbled into my shoulder.
"I love you too, baby. So much."
"Mom," she said, testing the word. Then again, more certain: "Mom."
"Yeah?"
"Can we get ice cream on the way home?"
I laughed and pulled back to look at her dirt-streaked, tear-stained, beaming face. "Absolutely. All the ice cream."
The hike down was peaceful. My legs ached pleasantly, the good kind of tired that came from using your body.
Sarah walked between us, holding both our hands, occasionally swinging forward and making us catch her.
The terror that had once accompanied every step on a mountain trail was quiet, barely a whisper.
At the trailhead, as Cole loaded the packs into the truck, I pulled out my phone. My father's contact stared up at me. I'd called him weekly for months now, but this call felt different. Bigger.
He answered on the second ring. "Hey, sweetheart!"
"Dad." My voice was steady, clear. "I'm ready. I'm ready to go through Lily's things. The boxes in your garage, the ones I couldn't touch. Can you bring them next weekend?"
A long silence. When he spoke, his voice was thick. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. It's time."
"I'll be there," he said. "I'll bring everything. Thank you, Emma. Thank you for letting me in."
"Thank you for being patient. For not giving up on me."
"Never," he said fiercely. "Not ever."
After I hung up, Cole came to stand beside me. He didn't say anything, just took my hand and squeezed.
"That was brave," he said quietly.
I looked at Sarah, who was trying to catch a falling leaf and failing spectacularly. Then back at Cole, this man who had waited for me, who had been patient when I pushed him away, who had taught me that the mountain could be both dangerous and beautiful.
"I'm learning from the best," I said.
We drove toward town as the sun began its descent, painting the peaks in shades of gold and rose. Sarah fell asleep in the backseat within minutes, exhausted and content.
I watched the mountain recede in the side mirror. The same mountain that had haunted my nightmares. The same wilderness that had taken Lily.
But now, with Cole's hand in mine and Sarah's soft breathing from the backseat, it didn't look like a monster anymore. It looked like what it was, just earth and rock and pine, dangerous and beautiful, full of risk and reward.
Just like love.
I thought of Lily. Not with the sharp, guilty grief that had defined the past year, but with something softer. Gratitude. Understanding.
I get it now, I told her silently. Why you kept going back. Why the risk was worth it.
She'd taught me, in her fierce, short life, to live fearlessly. To embrace the beautiful, risky, glorious mess of being alive. I'd spent fourteen months ignoring that lesson, hiding from it, building walls against it.
Not anymore.
The mountain didn't take Lily. Life did, in its random cruelty. But I was still here. Still capable of joy. Still surrounded by people who loved me.
And I was done, finally at last. I was done letting fear steal that.
"You're smiling," Cole observed.
"Am I?"
"It's a good look on you."
"I was just thinking about Lily."
He glanced at me, careful. "Good thoughts?"
"Yeah." I squeezed his hand. "Really good thoughts."
The road wound down the mountain, toward home, toward the life we were building together. In the backseat, Sarah stirred.
"Mom?" she mumbled, still half-asleep.
My heart swelled at the word. "Yeah, baby?"
"Are we almost there?"
"Almost."
"Good." She burrowed deeper into her seat. "'Cause I'm hungry."
Cole laughed. I laughed. And somewhere, I liked to think, Lily was laughing too.
We were almost there.
And for the first time in a very long time, I couldn't wait to see what came next.