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“When did you get a new car? What happened to your truck?”

“Yesterday.” He says with a shrug, pushing the button to start the car. “The truck wasn’t safe enough. So, I got a new car. Mamá is taking the truck out to the ranch house so they can use it out there. It will be more useful to her than it will be for me now.”

“Fine,” I grumble, my eyes already wanting to fall closed from exhaustion.

Slowly, he pulls the car out of from beneath the carport awning and begins our drive home.

I’m genuinely too tired to argue with him, so I lean back in my seat, glancing over my shoulder every couple of seconds to check on Bridgit.

The car ride is quiet, and I’m grateful for the silence. My eyes drift closed for a few minutes, and when I open them again, I don’t recognize our surroundings.

“Marshall? Where are we going? This isn’t the way home.” I say.

“We are going home.” He says, his smirk smug enough for me to want to smack it off of him.

On any other day, I would fight him, but right now, I’m just too tired.

Finally, our surroundings begin to seem familiar, and I realize where we are headed.

“Marshall. We can’t go to the new house. There’s nothing there.” I protest.

He glances over his shoulder at me, and panic seizes my chest.

“Eyes on the road.” I snap.

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles. “Just trust me, Elsie.”

When we pull up to the house and park in the driveway, I finally spot Marshall’s truck, or instead his old truck, in front of the house.

“Marshall, is your mother here?” I ask.

He puts the car in park and turns around in his seat.

“And if she is?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I... I...”

I’m at a loss for words, for once.

“Come on.” He says, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the car.

Before I can get myself unbuckled, Marshall is already unclipping the carrier from its base and taking our daughter into the house.

“A little help?” I holler after him, but instead of Marshall turning back to help me out of the car, suddenly, his mamá is before me, helping me out and lending me her support.

“Oh, mi hija! I’m so glad you’re here.” She says with such genuine delight in her voice that it brings a smile to my face. “I hope you love what we did with the place.”

“Did?” I mutter softly.

As we walk through the front door of the old ranch-style home, I see what she means, though.

At some point in the past week and a half, since Marshall and I got the keys, someone had come into our new home and completely decorated and furnished the entire house.

As I wander further into the house, I take in everything around me and notice how even all of my books and other personal possessions have been thoughtfully displayed throughout the home.

“Did you do this?” I manage to get out.

When I turn to look at Marshall’s mother, she has a beaming smile on her face.

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