just like Mom did. Let’s be thankful for a woman who raised us with grace even through the worst parts of her life.”
“Hell yeah,” Finn said.
Hudson turned to his uncle, clearing his throat before he spoke again. “Thank you, Uncle Joseph. I didn’t think I needed to remember my past. I was afraid I’d be angry and hate the world if I did, but you’ve reminded me that our past was filled with love, laughter, and fun. There were some bad moments, but there was a hell of a lot more good times than bad.”
“We can choose to focus on the bad in life, or we can appreciate the good,” Joseph said. “That’s where I wanted you to start on this journey. That’s what I want you to share with Damien.”
“I guess Daisy was right. It’s good to honor our pasts, the good parts, the parts that connect us to those we love the most.”
“I’m right too,” Joseph said, puffing out his chest.
“Are you ever wrong, Uncle Joseph?” Brandon asked.
“Nope. Never,” Joseph said.
Hudson, Finn, and Noah took the fish and cleaned it while Joseph, Damien, and Brandon stayed at the water trying to catch another. Hudson felt freer than he had in a very long time.
He looked down at the water and noticed the look on his uncle’s face as he watched Damien, who was choosing to stand farther away from Joseph and Brandon.
“What do you think is going on with Damien?” Finn asked.
“You’ve been noticing the looks from Joseph as well?” Hudson asked.
“Yeah, every time we meet,” Finn said.
“I don’t know. And I don’t think it will do us any good to ask. I think Joseph will tell us if and when the time is right,” Hudson said.
“I guess we have to wait,” Finn said.
And Hudson was okay with that. He was going to finish this day and night with his family, and then he was going to go tell the woman he was in love with that they could have a past and a future. They could have it all.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Daisy paced back and forth on her deck. She looked out at the land she’d lived on her entire life as her eyes filled with tears. Hudson was gone — he’d gone on his camping trip with his family, leaving her a short message saying he was bending, could she do the same?
“Is your plan to wear out the boards before you move?” Darla asked with a laugh. She was sitting back enjoying the sunshine and a margarita.
“Maybe. If I can’t have it, maybe I’ll just burn it all down,” Daisy said with a pout.
“That’s a good attitude,” Darla said, smiling, making Daisy glare at her.
“I don’t have a very good attitude right now.” She paused then plopped down in the seat next to her best friend. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a bear.”
“You are, and I love everything about you, so I can take it,” Darla told her.
“I just love it here . . . and I’m missing Hudson. I haven’t seen him in four days. Why do I miss him? We’re so different. I believe in the past, in preserving things, while he’s the opposite. He doesn’t want to look back, only forward. He wants to build over what once was, and I find that tragic.”
Darla reached out and took Daisy’s hand. “Why do you want to stay here so bad?” Darla asked.
“Because it’s home,” she said.
“What makes a home?” Darla pushed.
“A home,” Daisy said with a whole lot of sarcasm.
Darla laughed. “I love it here too, Daisy, but changing the land and having Hudson build his dream doesn’t take the land away, it just makes something new where maybe lots of people can have some of the peace you’ve experienced over the years.”
“They’ll ruin it,” Daisy said.
“Answer me this,” Darla said. “Will this property be the same if your grandfather isn’t here anymore? He’s planning to move, so would you still want to be here if you are all by yourself?”
Those questions stopped Daisy cold. “It wouldn’t be the same place without gramps,” Daisy admitted.
“And now that you’ve found someone you can share with, laugh with, and love with, would it be the same without him?” Darla pushed.
“I don’t know. But why does anything have to change? Why can’t it stay the same?” Daisy asked.
“I love that you hold on to the past. It’s something you’ve needed for a very long time because of all of the crap you’ve been through, but can’t you