For the second night in a row, Penny hadn’t slept. At some point around 3:00 a.m., she’d abandoned the notion all together. Curled up on the chaise lounge, she kept her eyes glued to the front door in case Chip miraculously decided to come home on his own.
Nearly the entire town had helped her scour every nook and cranny looking for him, but they’d finally paused the search for the night, promising to resume in the morning. And Cassie had insisted she try to get some rest, although the effort had proven to be futile.
A gentle knock stirred Penny from her thoughts, and she immediately scrambled to her feet.
The door eased open, and Cassie poked her head inside, a warm smile illuminating her features. “Guess who’s home?”
A joyful sob caught in Penny’s throat as Cassie set Chip on the floor.
“You found him!” Falling to her knees, Penny laughed through tears of relief as Chip waddled toward her.
The little stinker didn’t appear remotely contrite as he nudged her palm with his head as his form of hello.
“Actually,”—Cassie amended—“Colt did.”
Penny’s gaze flickered to her friend’s face in surprise. “Colt?”
Cassie lowered herself to the carpet, sitting cross-legged. “When most of us went home to sleep, Colt asked Bill Tucker if he could borrow Peggy Sue. Something about pigs being great at finding truffles, so maybe they could track down a tortoise, too.” She smiled. “I don’t know if Peggy Sue actually proved useful, but they roamed around the nature trail all night until they finally found Chip down by the creek.”
Penny’s heart raced as she listened to Cassie’s story. Colt had searched all night to find him? Tears threatened to spill anew.
Cassie’s features softened as she tilted her head, studying her expression. “Colt asked me not to tell you he was the one who found Chip, but I thought you should know.” After a pause, she asked gently, “What happened between you two? According to Luke, Colt said you had the perfect date on Saturday. But when I saw him this morning, I’d never seen him look so miserable.”
Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, Penny kept her gaze on Chip, nuzzling his head with the tip of her finger. “Things… didn’t work out between us.”
“Why not?”
All the disappointment and pain from the night beneath the flickering street lamp came rushing back, and Penny blinked rapidly, trying to stave off her burgeoning tears. “Because he’s leaving, Cass. For a long time. And I don’t think he has plans to come back. Not permanently, anyway.”
Cassie remained silent for a long moment, mulling it over. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
Taken aback, Penny straightened. “What do you mean? What can I do? I asked him to stay, and he said he can’t.”
“Did you ask him why?”
“No.” Penny bit her bottom lip in an attempt to curtail its quivering. “I didn’t see the point.” She winced at her own lie. “That’s not entirely true. I… didn’t want to hear his explanation. Whatever his reason, he’d chosen it over being with me. And I didn’t think I could bear it.”
Cassie’s green eyes filled with compassion, and she offered a small nod in understanding. “Last Christmas, I left Poppy Creek without telling Luke if and when I’d be coming back. At the time, it was an act of hopelessness.”
Penny waited in patient silence for her to continue, recalling bits and pieces of what had transpired between them.
“Well, as you know…” She trailed off, a dreamy, contented smile curling the edges of her mouth. “Luke came after me. And weeks later, when I asked him what went through his mind in that moment, you know what he said?”
Penny gave a slight shake of her head.
“Luke said he knew there were things outside his control, but he also knew if he didn’t try everything in his power to fight for me, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. And if he’d learned anything from losing his father, it was that he didn’t want to leave this earth with regrets.”
As Cassie’s words seeped through the cracks in her walls, Penny wasn’t quite sure how to process them.
Cassie leaned forward, her gaze earnest. “If you were to die today, what would you regret not doing?”
To Penny’s surprise, the vision of a faded white envelope flashed before her eyes.
Even before Colt reached Luke’s workshop, he smelled the invigorating aroma of sawdust and varnish.
And when he stepped through the sliding barn door, he was immediately struck by the breadth of the space. Lumber in every width, length, and wood grain imaginable, shelves bursting with an assortment of fasteners and fixtures, and more power tools than Colt even knew existed—all neatly organized. Not to mention the array of expertly crafted furniture in various stages of completion.
At the crunch of wood scraps beneath his feet, Colt drew his brother’s attention from his current project.
“Hey.” Luke acknowledged him with a quick glance before giving the strange object one last swipe with the square of sandpaper. At Colt’s frown of confusion, Luke explained, “It’s a quilt rack for Frida Connelly. Apparently, she’s outgrown the three others I’ve already made her.”
“Her place must look like a quilt museum by now.” Colt flashed a lopsided grin, too tired to form a full-on smile.
“You look terrible,” Luke pointed out, setting down the swatch of sandpaper. “I suppose it has something to do with your heroic, middle-of-the-night rescue of one wayfaring tortoise. And perhaps whatever happened with said tortoise’s owner.” Striding to a mini fridge in the corner, he cracked open the small door, revealing an assortment of glistening bottles. He removed a cream soda and a sarsaparilla, handing the latter to Colt.
“Thanks.” Colt popped off the cap on the edge of Luke’s drafting table.
“Want to talk about it?” His brother used the same method to open his bottle, just like their father taught them, much to their mother’s dismay.
“Well, I’m not here to build a birdhouse,” Colt said ruefully.
Chuckling, Luke nodded toward his workbench, while he perched on a backless barstool.
Once settled on the bench, Colt leaned forward, both forearms poised on his thighs while he stared at the sawdust-covered floor. “How’d you do it?” he finally asked, barely loud enough for Luke to hear him.
“Do what?”
“Quit Dad’s practice when you knew how much it meant to him that you’d taken it over?” His tone held no censure, only urgent curiosity.
“It wasn’t easy,” Luke admitted after a long, thoughtful pause. “Ultimately, it was something Mom said that helped me make the decision.”
Colt glanced up, watching his brother closely. “What did she say?”
Luke twisted the bottle in his hand, the dark, amber-colored glass glinting in the sunlight streaming through the open door. He took a sip before slowly lowering it, as if collecting his thoughts. “She said Dad would be proud of me. Not because I’d taken over his practice, but because of the man I’d become.” His voice thickened with emotion, and he roughly cleared his throat. “She said as parents, they try to pass on what they know, but at some point, you have to lean into the person God created you to be, and their wisdom becomes a guide more than an ultimatum.” Luke paused, studying him intently. “Why do you ask?”
His palm moist from condensation on the bottle—and perhaps nerves—Colt wiped his hand on his shorts. “Dad made me promise him something before he died. And I’m having a hard time keeping it. Truthfully, I don’t know if I want to keep it anymore.”
Silence filled the space between them, save for twittering birds in the distance.
They’d never discussed how Colt was the last one to see their father alive. Or how he’d been the one to watch him die.
“What was it?” Luke asked gently.
Colt squeezed his eyes shut as the vision of his father’s frail body lying in the hospital bed forced its way to the forefront of his mind. He could still hear the beeping of the heart monitor and smell the overpowering aroma of cleaning supplies mingled with the white peonies his mother kept in a vase by the window.
His father had just finished lamenting their unused plane tickets, and how he’d promised their mother a trip around the world. She wanted to dance on the beach beneath the moonlight and taste exotic foods she couldn’t find in Poppy Creek.
With trembling fingers, his father had reached for his hand. At the memory, Colt gulped against the emotion lodged in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the sensation of his father’s cold, limp grasp or how his once large, meaty hands had turned to papery skin and bones.
Wrenching his eyes open, Colt met his brother’s gaze. “He made me promise not to waste a single second of my life, but to live each moment as if it were my last. Dad regretted not taking Mom on that trip, missing out on all the experiences they’d dreamt about all those years. I think he didn’t want me to get stuck here, always saying one day I’d live my life, but never actually doing it.”
Realization lit Luke’s hazel eyes. “That’s why you’re always traveling, pushing the limits, and never settling down.”
“I never minded before,” Colt disclosed with complete sincerity. “I viewed my promise to Dad as a gift, for him and myself. The adventures I’ve had… they’ve all been incredible. I’ve done things most only dream of. But…” He trailed off, a brief glimpse of Penny’s radiant smile derailing his thoughts.
All at once, he missed her so much, his chest hurt. He set the bottle of sarsaparilla on the workbench, unable to drink another drop.
“Colt,” Luke said slowly. “Did you ever think Dad’s thoughts may not be as interconnected as you assumed?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Dad regretted not having those experiences with Mom. But telling you not to waste your life doesn’t necessarily mean the same thing.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” Colt’s voice rose a little in frustration.
Luke set his bottle on the drafting table and leaned forward, his brows lowered in careful consideration of his next words. “Maybe Dad wasn’t expecting you to live a high-octane life. Maybe he simply meant don’t miss out on the things that matter to you. For Dad, it was not taking Mom on that trip. But for you, it could be something else. Or maybe someone else.”
As his brother spoke, a tremendous weight lifted from Colt’s shoulders. And for the second time in forty-eight hours, unshed tears pooled in his eyes.
All these years, he’d operated under a solitary—and faulty—assumption.
But in hindsight, he wouldn’t necessarily do anything differently. He appreciated his wealth of experiences.
But looking forward…
His new perspective could change everything.