Page 128 of When the Smoke Clears
She drops the knife into the sink and wipes her hands on a dish towel. “I’m going to apply at the hospital, and I was also eyeing that pediatric practice downtown.”
“Both solid,” I say. “Which one feels more like you?”
Her eyes soften. “Kids. I love working with them. They light up when you walk in. So, the pediatric practice seems perfect.”
“Sounds good. Are you okay waiting if nothing’s open right away?”
“Are you kidding? You got me that papasan chair and set it on the deck so that I could read in the sun. I can spend the next two months happily curled up there, waiting for my name on the schedule.” She grins, then reaches out and squeezes my hand firmly. “Thanks for believing in me.”
“Always.”
“Have you given any more thought to trying to find out more about your biological father?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
I shake my head. “No, it’s honestly the last thing on my mind right now.”
“Understandable,” she murmurs, her hands deftly wrapping cling wrap around the salad bowl. “Are you ready to go?”
As ready as I’ll ever be.
I rub my clammy hand on my worn jeans as we drive through the wooden gate to the ranch. My visits to the family have been sparse, consumed mainly by the overwhelming logistics surrounding Nathaniel’s death.
Soon, we’ll meet with Nik to sift through the contents of his will. God only knows what secrets or surprises might lie within those pages.
For now, we’re all attempting to move forward, one tentative step at a time, as Isla put it—our new normal. Yet, despite the brave face I wear, a knot of guilt twists in my stomach.
No one has pointed fingers, but the thought of facing my family at dinner for the first time since his death makes my heart race with unease. Isla gently places her hand over mine, her touch warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be fine.”
I put the truck in park, my gaze lingering on the front door that’s seen so many of our family’s battles. Memories press in—how often I dodged these dinners to avoid Nathaniel’s presence. And now, with him gone, the irony cuts deep: I’m still reluctant to walk inside, still haunted by him.
As we step out of the truck, the porch door creaks open, and my mom appears in the frame. She looks diminished somehow, her presence shrunken by grief.
The bulky sweater hanging from her shoulders emphasizes the hollowness in her once-vibrant face, the sharpness in her cheekbones that wasn’t there before. But when her gaze locks with mine, the years and losses melt away. Her eyes ignite with that same fierce, unwavering love I’ve known all my life.
She opens her arms wide, and I step into her embrace, the familiar scent of her perfume enveloping me. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Luke,” she replies, her voice tinged with relief and warmth. “I’m so happy to see you.”
She plants a gentle kiss on my cheek, and I move aside to let Isla step forward, her bright smile as welcoming as the sunshine, the salad cradled in her arms.
“Isla,” Mom says with genuine affection, wrapping my girlfriend in a hug. “How are you?”
“I’m well, Elizabeth.”
“Everyone is here except for Savannah,” Mom explains, gesturing for us to follow her into the cozy living room. “She had a last-minute errand to run.”
In the bar area, my siblings and Gabe are gathered, their laughter and animated chatter filling the space. They turn as we step inside, faces lighting up with welcoming smiles.
Eden springs forward, wrapping her arms around me with enthusiasm. “Luke!” she exclaims. “So glad you’re here.”
She then moves to Isla, enveloping her in an equally enthusiastic hug, her joy infectious.
Next, I am greeted with firm handshakes from my brothers, their smiles wide and eyes bright, exuding a relaxed and welcoming energy.
Chase looks me over. “How’s your shoulder?”
I rotate my shoulder in a circular motion, feeling a slight twinge but also the relief of healing. “It’s getting better every day. I’m going back to full-time work on Monday.”
“That’s good,” Dalton chimes in, nodding approvingly.
