But she got it now, what home truly meant. She hadn’t missed out on some town where she could put down roots and grow old in. She’d missed out on making the kind of friends who became your chosen family.
For now, she and Cole were their family. And that’s how she’d treat them.
“Hey, you know how the fairies make magic boxes?” Cole asked. “What if we made memory boxes? You guys can fill them with all the things that remind you of your parents.”
“Like what?” Paisley asked.
“Well…does your dad still have that green baseball hat?” he asked.
Paisley smiled. “Mommy makes him keep it in the garage.”
“It stinky,” Evvie said.
“That’s because it was his fishing hat.” Hailey remembered how they’d take turns whacking the bill. It’d go sailing into the lake, and Darren would dive in to retrieve it every time.
“How about I get it, and you guys take a look around for all your favorite things?” Cole asked.
“Oh, I know.” Paisley got up. “Come on, Evvie. Let’s get our blankies.”
Cole set the littlest one down, and the girls, still holding hands, headed into the closet. “When I get the hat, I’ll grab the boxes from the car. Be right back.”
“I was so wrong about you.” She could see she’d taken him off guard because he jerked to a stop. “There’s nothing superficial about you. You’ve listened to me, apologized to me, and you’ve never once—not for a second—run from the scariness of our situation. You handle the hard questions like a champ. I see you, Cole Montgomery. And I’m so sorry I didn’t before.” She quickly headed after the girls.
In their parents’ closet, Paisley’s little bottom poked out from a row of dresses. She emerged with a storage box. “Look.” Opening it, she pulled out a baby blanket.
“This is so pretty.” Hailey ran her fingertips over the embroidery.
“Mommy made it for Evvie.” Next, Paisley pulled out a pastel pink and blue throw. “This one’s mine.”
Since her friend couldn’t sew, Hailey had offered to make quilts for the girls, but Lindsay had insisted on doing it herself. For Evvie, she’d bought a kit, and for Paisley, she’d taken a knitting class. Neither blanket came out perfect, but both held all the love Lindsay had for her children. “Your mommy loved you so much. These are amazing.” What else would they want? “What else would you like to put in the memory box?”
“The rocks we painted?” Paisley asked.
“Sure. Go grab them.”
Cole came back into the room with a stack of framed photos. “We don’t want to forget these.”
“For sure. They can tell us about each picture. That’s how we’ll keep the memories alive. Oh, you know what might be fun?” She turned to the girls. “You can tell us about all the trips you’ve taken and things your family did together, and Cole and I will write them down and put them in the boxes.”
“That’s a great idea.” He smiled at her warmly.
Evvie thrust a sweatshirt at her. “Dis Mommy.”
Hailey got a distinct whiff of Lindsay’s perfume. “Did your mommy wear this a lot?”
“Yes.” Evvie nodded with such sincerity. “Mommy weared it.”
As the girls continued to collect things—their dad’s walking stick, his watch, and a pair of ratty slippers—Hailey went into the bathroom and found the bottle. She’d spritz it on their stuffed animals to keep their mom present for them.
She’d also take the jewelry box just in case there was a family heirloom in it. Anything she could pass along to the girls as they got older would be cherished. At three, Evvie knew her parents the least, so Hailey would be sure to tell her stories.
As they headed back to the car, loaded with boxes, Hailey said, “That was good. Tough but good.”
He popped the trunk and set the boxes inside. “I’m damn glad we’re in this together.”
“Me, too.” Her heart clutched.
She could see it so clearly, the four of them together.A family.