Page 72 of Timber Ridge

I reach into my bag and take out Cubby the Bear. I’ve never left it behind. Where I go, it goes—until today. It was one of the first things I grabbed when the cabin caught fire. Handing it to Hailey, I say, “This is a very special bear. Hold on to it until I come back.”

Her eyes widen as she clutches it. “Do you promise to come back?” she asks, her voice filled with desperate hope.

“I do,” I whisper, trying to hold back my tears. “I love you.”

Those words only add fuel to the fire, and her cries grow louder as she tightly holds the bear to her heart.

Guilt washes over me. Leaving Hailey feels like abandoning her, but I know it's a necessity. It hurts me as much as it hurts her, but we all need time. You can’t jump into forever headfirst. That stupid saying about setting something free and it coming back if it's yours echoes in my mind. As I walk away, I feel the weight of every step.

May moves forward, her frail arms pulling me into a tight hug. “I just got you, and now I have to give you up,” she whispers. “Are you sure about this?”

Tears stream down my face as I hold my grandmother. “No, but I have commitments,” I say. “You should come to Arizona and visit me.”

May shakes her head, her eyes filled with a lifetime of wisdom. “My place is here, child.”

Next is Eliza, who hugs me fiercely and whispers in my ear, “You know he loves you. Don’t be an idiot.”

I nod, tears blurring my vision. I turn to the rest of the family and friends, each goodbye making the weight in my chest heavier.

Lucas and Tommy hug me, their faces solemn. “Thank you, Miss Moore,” they say in unison.

Kane steps forward, his eyes red and puffy. He pulls me into a tight embrace, his voice a choked whisper. “I’ll wait for you. Please come back.”

The intensity of his hug, the desperate need in his voice, makes my chest tighten with emotion. The strength of his arms around me etches this moment into my memory. I pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, then lean in for a kiss. It's not a simple goodbye kiss, but one filled with all the love and longing that words can’t convey. It's as if we're trying to store up enough of each other to last until we’re together again.

When we finally break apart, my lips tingle with the memory of his touch. “I love you,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “I’ll be back for school breaks, holidays. As often as I can.”

His eyes search mine, as if trying to etch this moment into his soul. “I love you. Always.”

I nod, unable to speak, my emotions too overwhelming. As I step onto the floatplane, I glance back one last time. Hailey chases me to the edge of the plane, still crying. She hands me her quartz rock. “It's my favorite. Hold on to it for me,” she says.

I take the rock, feeling an ache deep within. Kane stands there, his shoulders heavy with the weight of this goodbye.

As the plane takes off, I clutch the rock and stare out the window, feeling my chest splinter with each moment that takes me farther from them.

Hailey’s cries still echo in my ears, and the realization of what I’m leaving behind hits me like a tidal wave. I wonder if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.

Tears stream down my face while my mind replays the painful goodbye. Did I make the right choice? What if Amanda leaves again and Hailey gets hurt by both of us? What if Kane can’t forgive me for the choices I made? What if I can’t forgive myself?

I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm of doubts raging inside me. I think of the promise I made to Kane, to Hailey. I think of coming back for school breaks, holidays, and whenever I can. I have to believe this is just a temporary separation, a painful step toward a better future.

The plane rises higher, and the town below becomes smaller. I close my eyes, praying that one day, the pain of this goodbye will be replaced by the joy of a new hello. Until then, I have to hold onto the hope that love will be enough to bring me back to them.

My return to Arizona is stark and unforgiving. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning the air into a suffocating blanket of heat. Sweat trickles down my back as I sit in my mother’s old house, the broken air conditioner doing nothing to alleviate the oppressive temperature. The house needs a lot of repairs—peeling paint, creaky floors, and plumbing that’s seen better days—but it's all I have right now.

I glance at the clock. The seconds tick by slowly, each one a reminder of how far I am from Alaska, from Kane and Hailey.

My new job as a testing coordinator is a far cry from what I imagined. Instead of the vibrant, chaotic energy of a classroom filled with children, I’m stuck in a sterile office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and spreadsheets. The daily grind of administering and coordinating standardized tests is empty of the joy that teaching once brought me. I miss the laughter, the curiosity, the moments of connection that made every day worthwhile. I don’t miss the gross things like boogers and farts, but I’d take them just to hear a student giggle or stand tall because they are proud of their accomplishments.

I miss Hailey’s bright eyes and endless questions. I miss Kane’s steady presence, his touch, his love. The distance between us seems like an unbridgeable abyss, each day apart stretching it further.

Every evening, we have Zoom calls. Seeing their faces on the screen is a bittersweet comfort. Hailey’s giggles and Kane’s reassuring voice bring some solace, but it’s not the same. The screen creates a barrier that their voices and images can’t fully penetrate. I hate to admit it, but the calls aren’t enough. They can’t replace Hailey’s small arms around my neck or the strength of Kane’s embrace.

The nights are the hardest—the quiet moments when my thoughts drift back to Kane and the evenings we spent together, his touch lingering on my skin like a ghost. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about when I’ll be able to visit. Until then, I hold onto the hope that love will be enough to bridge the distance.

For now, I distract myself by tackling the endless list of repairs the house needs. I paint, fix the creaky floors, and attempt to wrangle the ancient plumbing into working order. But the effort is hollow. Each day is a struggle, each moment a reminder of what I left behind. The decision to come here, to give Amanda and Hailey space to build their relationship, seems more like a sacrifice than ever.

One evening, as the heat of the day begins to fade, I sit by my open window, hoping for a breeze. I close my eyes, imagining the cool, salty air, the sound of the waves, the feel of Kane’s arms around me. A tear slips down my cheek, quickly followed by another, and before I know it, I’m sobbing uncontrollably. I question everything I’ve done—every decision I made, but I believe in fate, in the universe guiding us to where we need to be. The call to come back early was another sign, a nudge telling me it was time to go. If I’m meant to return, the universe will show me the way.

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