Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Hunter was just telling us about when you two saw the bear in your house,” Joe says, and I look at Hunter.
“Your face when you saw the bear was funny, Mom, and the way you screamed.” He laughs, and Aubrey starts to giggle.
“I was surprised. It’s not very often you turn around in your kitchen and find a bear standing there.”
“True, baby,” Zach says softly, and my belly melts a little when our eyes lock.
“Are you guys ready for dessert?” Joe stands, and all of the kids say yes.
“Good, we’re having my grandma’s salmon berry pie with vanilla ice cream.”
“Salmon berries,” I whisper, and Joe looks at me and smiles.
“Wanna help me?” she asks.
“Sure.” I follow behind her, feeling Zach run his fingers over mine as I pass him. By the time I enter the kitchen, Joe has already gotten the ice cream out of the freezer and is pulling the foil off that was covering the pie. “Do you want me to scoop?”
“Yep, drawer next to the fridge,” she says, and I get the scoop then stand next to her at the counter.
“I haven’t had salmon berries in forever. They don’t have them in Seattle,” I say, as my mouth waters. Salmon berries are similar to raspberries or blackberries, but the colors vary between oranges, yellows, and sometimes pinks, but the taste sets them apart, because they are sweet but a little bit sour as well.
“They’re hard to come by if you don’t live in Alaska. I make jellies in the summer and freeze as much as I can, but by the time winter is over, we are always out of them.
“I need to take Hunter berry picking and learn how to can them myself.”
“I’d be happy to teach you, and if you let me know when you’re going picking, the girls and I will come along.”
“I would love that. I found some of my mom’s old canning stuff, so I’d love to learn how to use it.”
She smiles a small smile, nodding, then asks, “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“No,” I say softly, wondering if I should remember her.
“You were young, maybe six the last time I saw you,” she replies, then goes back to the pie. “Your mom would bring you along when we went salmon berry picking in the summers. That’s why I made this pie tonight. She told me once it was your favorite.”
“It is, but I don’t remember.”
She nods, sliding a piece of pie onto the plate in front of me. “Well, you look just like her. Paul said you did, but when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t believe just how much you look like her. She was a good friend to me. I know I wasn’t around when she passed away, but if you need anything, I’m here now.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, and she nods again.
“Paul’s really glad you’re home. He talked about you a lot over the years, and always wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should,” she confides.
“I forgot,” I whisper to myself, closing my eyes briefly.
“Pardon?” she asks, placing another piece of pie on a plate.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling emotional. “I forgot about this.” I motion around at everything, because it is everything. “I forgot this is why I was happy here. I blocked it out.”
“I still don’t understand, sweetie.”
“Having people care about you, even people who are strangers,” I explain, and her mouth goes soft.
“I forgot too, until I moved back. It’s not the same anywhere else, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I agree, and she bumps my shoulder with hers.
“You’re lagging behind, sweetie.”
Laughing, I get to scooping out the ice cream, and then we call the kids into the kitchen and they swarm like a starving pack of lions. By the time we are all done devouring our dessert, it’s time to call it a night, and it’s one more night I wish didn’t have to end.
Chapter 8
Shelby
Waking, I feel Zach behind me in bed and can’t help but smile as I open my eyes slightly.
“I know you’re awake,” he says against my shoulder. Feeling his lips there as he places a kiss, I soak in the feeling then roll over to face him.
It’s been a little over three week since we had dinner with Paul and his family, and since then, we’ve told the kids we’re seeing each other and had dinner together every night, bouncing between Zach’s house and mine, with Aubrey and me cooking and the boys doing the cleaning up, unless we ate out or ordered a pizza. It’s been nice—more than nice. I love having Zach and the kids around, and I know Hunter does too.
“Are you still asleep after all?” he asks with a chuckle, taking me out of my thoughts. He runs his finger down my cheek, causing my eyes to slide closed.