My parents had moved to Bozeman from Alaska last fall. Sadly, all of my grandparents had passed within the last four years, and since my parents no longer had family in Anchorage, they’d retired and moved here to be closer to their grandchildren. Dad had gotten a part-time job at the private airfield—mostly so he had an excuse to leave the house—and Mom came into the restaurant most days to help me cook.
I loved that they were closer. Everyone did. Kali and Max had been overjoyed when they’d moved here, and my kids wouldn’t remember a time when they didn’t have four grandparents at their beck and call.
Like Finn and I when we’d been kids.
“Where did your brother disappear to?” Dad stood to clear his plate.
“He and Cole went to buy more beer. When they get back, we’ll open presents.”
Dad smiled and patted my shoulder. “Everything was delicious. Don’t tell your mother,” he leaned down but didn’t even try to whisper as he grinned at Mom, “but I think you’ve surpassed her.”
Mom just laughed. “I know she has.”
“I ate too much.” Molly slid past Dad and into his empty seat, collapsing and rubbing her stomach. “But it was so good. We need to add that cake to the menu.”
“Or maybe we should make a cake every week, just for the staff to share.”
“Yes!” Molly cheered. “They’ll love that.”
Mom, Molly and I visited for a while until the cake was demolished and the kids were chasing each other around the tables. So while everyone was enjoying the conversation, I left Brady under the watchful eye of his grandparents and snuck away to my office.
I flicked on the light and pulled out my phone, swiping to find the right picture. Then, using the special printer that Cole had gotten me last year for Christmas, I hit print.
A few moments later, I was smiling at the picture in my hands.
Brady was sitting on Cole’s lap. MacKenna was on mine. In front of us was the birthday cake I’d made with a single lit candle in the middle. Brady was staring at the flame with wide eyes while MacKenna leaned over the table, her mouth in a perfect O as she prepared to blow it out for her brother.
I stared at the picture for another second, then went to the desk, getting out a pushpin for my wall.
My wall of memories.
After I’d finished Jamie’s birthday list, I’d contemplated starting one of my own. But plotting the future had been Jamie’s thing, not mine. So I dismissed the idea and settled on something else.
I’d covered one entire office wall with corkboard to pin up special pictures.
I didn’t have a list of things I wanted to do in my life. I had a wall of memories of the things I’d already done.
I had pictures of Nazboo chasing my kids in our yard. Of Cole as he fixed up cars in our garage. Of board game nights with Finn and his girlfriend. Of Molly and her kids carving pumpkins for my porch.
My wall was full of memories I wanted to keep close, and tonight, I’d add one from Brady’s first birthday.
I stepped up to the wall, searching for just the right spot.
There was a small space open next to the picture from the day Cole had proposed. He’d taken me to Glacier and gotten down on one knee in front of Lake McDonald. After I’d said yes and we’d kissed, he’d taken a selfie for my wall, making sure to capture the solitaire diamond shining brightly on my hand.
Next to that photo was my favorite photo from our wedding day. After I’d moved into his house, we’d gotten married in the spring in a small ceremony at a local church. The reception had been catered at The Maysen Jar. It had been such a hectic day that Cole and I had hardly spent time together, so we’d snuck away for a few quiet moments to share a piece of cake at the kitchen table. Just like our first date. Molly had poked her head through the swinging door and caught it on camera.
Most of the others were pictures of the kids. I’d pinned photos from the day each was born. One of Cole kissing MacKenna’s forehead after the nurse had handed her over. One of Jimmy whispering a secret to a swaddled Brady.
I had a couple old pictures from college of me, Jamie, Finn and Molly. I had pictures of all our nieces and nephews. I even had a picture of Tuesday Hastings and her daughter, Kennedy, standing by Jamie’s old truck.
Tuesday had flourished in Oregon. She’d taken a job working with her grandmother at a bed-and-breakfast on the coast. I didn’t hear from her often, but every once in a while, she’d send me a picture with a recipe on the back.
Not once since the night she’d left had she ever come back to Montana. Not even after Cole had put Tommy Bennett in prison for twenty years. Not even after a judge had sentenced Nina Veras with two life sentences in prison for first-degree murder.
Nina wasn’t the only one in prison either. Her boyfriend, Samuel Long, had been sentenced to sixty years without parole for conspiracy to commit murder. He’d denied his involvement, of course, but when the police had found the murder weapon in his house, he’d had a harder time peddling his lies.
And the day of the sentencing hearing had been the day I’d put it all in the past. So had Cole. It had taken some time, but he’d stopped blaming himself for the murders. The hearings had given us both some overdue closure.
Jamie’s parents had attended the sentencing hearings too. They’d sat behind me and Cole in the courtroom as the judge had handed down sentences, but that was the last time I’d seen Kyle and Debbie. I wasn’t sure if they’d ever move on from their son’s death. Now that I had children of my own, I didn’t know if
