Page 71 of Loud Unspoken Memories

“Okay, they’re calling me over to pick up my car. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

As soon as I’m back to reading my book, Dallas’s phone rings. I look up, surprised. I haven’t heard it ring since I’vebeen here. Either he’s had it silenced this whole time, or he just doesn’t get many calls.

I ignore it and it rolls to voicemail.

A few minutes later, it rings again.

When it rings a third time within another few minutes, I begin to worry. I glance outside and don’t see Dallas, so I spring off the couch and go to his phone. The screen reads “Allie,” and the picture of a beautiful girl is in the background.

Allie.His sister. What if this is an emergency?

Without giving it another thought, I swipe to answer. “Dallas Montana’s phone, can I help you?”

“Um… uh… are you sure this is Dallas’s phone? Is he okay?”

“Yes, it’s his phone, and yes, he’s okay. Can I help you?”

Puffs of air that I’m quite sure are laughter, come through the phone. “And you are?”

“The woman stranded at his cabin after my car ran off the road last week.”

“Lastweek?”

“There’s been a blizzard and I’ve been unable to get a tow truck.”

More laughter coming from the other end of the line assures me there is not, in fact, any sort of emergency. “I’m Allie. His sister.”

“I’m Marti.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Marti.Really, reallynice to meet you.”

I can practically feel her smile. And the insinuation behind her words is as deep as the snow drifts out back.

“I don’t normally answer his phone, by the way. He’s outside right now. But it was ringing so much I thought it might be something urgent.”

“It isn’t. I just know my brother. He doesn’t answer his phone. Texts either. Not unless it’s work related.”

“You work for the winery too?” I ask.

“I do. I’m the events coordinator.”

“That sounds fun. Is there a message you’d like me to relay?”

“An invitation is more like it, to Lucas’s birthday party.”

“Your oldest brother? That’s nice. When is the party?”

I could swear I hear her say ‘wow,’ but I’m pretty sure the word wasn’t meant for me. “It’s Saturday.”

Saturday. Five days from today. It’s like a punch in the chest to think that by then, all this will be a memory, and we’ll be back to living our own lives.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“You could come too.”

“Thanks, but once I get to my son we’ll be heading back to Florida.”

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