were now driving to a small town called Hope Falls. We’d been on the road for about thirty minutes and her phone had alerted her at least a hundred times.
“Are you sure you want to do this today? I can ask Kyle if we can push the interview until tomorrow.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
I wanted to argue with her and tell her that no, she wasn’t fine. I wanted to take her to our hotel room and hide her away from the world. I wanted to protect her from anything and everything that could possibly hurt her. Logically, I knew that was impossible, but right now kidnapping her and seizing all electronic devices felt like exactly the right thing to do.
“Wow, how beautiful.” Josie leaned forward and stared out the windshield at the pine trees lining the majestic Sierra Nevada mountain range that was the backdrop as we passed the sign welcoming us to Hope Falls. “This is just…stunning.”
“It is.” The scenery didn’t hold a candle to her beauty, but I didn’t think this was the right time to tell her that. She was dealing with enough without me hitting on her. Not that that’s what I would be doing, but it might come off that way.
“Is it just me or does every town we’ve been to seem like it is a postcard come to life?”
“Yeah.” I’d thought the same thing, each town definitely held its own charm. The lightning bugs on Firefly Island. The crystal blue river in Harper’s Crossing. The stone castle in Whisper Lake, and now the mountain vista in Hope Falls.
In my teens and even early twenties, I would’ve never appreciated these small towns the way I did now. I’d spent so many years exploring other countries, foreign landscapes, and international destinations and I knew that I’d needed to do that. But now, now I was feeling more and more that my life was taking a different turn. I was pretty sure that the woman seated beside me had something to do with that.
My mom had always loved the song “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police. It was like the song had been written about Josie. Everything she did was magic.
During the flight, I’d passed out after being awake for over twenty-four hours. I hadn’t planned on sleeping, but before the seatbelt signs had turned off, I was out. When I woke up, my head was resting on a pillow and a blanket was over my lap. I’d asked her if she’d done it and she’d nodded as if it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal. To me.
She was dealing with a personal life crisis, yet she’d taken care of me. Just like she’d picked up the snail and set it out of harm’s way. Or coaxed Charlotte out of her shell by playing nail salon after a long two days, when I was sure she’d rather have just had a beer and relaxed.
Small gestures of kindness, when no one was looking, were a huge deal to me. In this documentary, I’d heard people talk about what love was to them and, although I’d never been in love, I’d had a front-row seat to my parents’ marriage. We’d been interviewing people for the last two days about love, but Walker and Dolly Briggs were the gold standard of love in my book.
And I’d seen the little things that my parents had done for each other. The way that my dad always made sure that there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for my mom when she woke up. Or the way my mom made sure that my dad had ten minutes to unwind after coming in from a hard day of work on the farm, before being bombarded with questions, and the chaos of having nine kids.
It was in the way my dad would notice the dark circles under my mom’s eyes when she’d take too much on, and make sure she got a “mom’s night off”—which meant that from sundown to bedtime, us kids were not allowed to complain, ask for anything, or even argue amongst ourselves.
I watched it firsthand. I’d witnessed what two people who respected one another, loved one another, and were a true team could do.
I think on some unconscious level, I’d always viewed their relationship as an anchor holding them down. I’d thought that once you had that sort of love, and especially if you had kids, your life was no longer