Page 28 of What We Keep
“I just got a job. You didn’t have to do a big celebration.”
Maggie pressed her lips together as she untied her apron and hung it on a hook by the pantry door.
“Elsa, I cook dinner every night. I love to have a reason to celebrate anything.” Her gaze sobered as she studied me quietly. I put the last dish in the dishwasher and closed it, feeling unsettled, my belly jumbled with uncertainty.
“I’m guessing you didn’t celebrate many things growing up at your house.”
Emotion knotted in my throat. I cleared it, took a slow breath, and shook my head. “No, not really.”
“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
I looked at this warm and kind woman who had been through so much of her own loss. As a little girl, I remembered feeling lonely and out of place, making up stories about families in my head. The Silvers and Heartfire Falls had been the pinnacle of what I imagined a family should be. Six rowdy boys, one girl, and two loving parents.
Those were the details I had pieced together about them. Of all the kids, Bree was the only one who ever happened to see me in Heartfire Falls when I used to sneak over. She had been kind and told me I could come over anytime.
So much had changed for them. Their father had died. Then Bree. And now, Maggie was worrying about me.
“Maggie—” I twisted my hands together and drew in a sharp breath. “I’m okay. Things were fine after we moved. I loved my dad. He was just…” Pausing, I tried to think of the right words. “So into his off-the-grid life. He took it a smidge too far,” I offered with a little eye roll.
Maggie laughed softly. “You seem more than okay. I know what it’s like to sometimes be okay, but also have bad days and just need someone to listen. So I’m here if you ever need that.” She paused, appearing to consider her words. “Your dad loved you very much.”
I blinked away the tears stinging my eyes. Before I could say anything else, Maggie crossed the kitchen and pulled me into a comforting hug. When she stepped back, she placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “There’s nothing you could have done, and there’s no sense in even thinking that. You’re not allowed to beat yourself up for overthinking things that you can’t change,” she said firmly.
A little laugh sputtered out. “It helps to be reminded.”
Maggie stepped back. “Sometimes we end up in situations we don’t know how to remedy. When that happens, we do the best we can. I don’t think your mom knew how sideways it could go when your father got sick. And I’m so, so sorry you had to be there for it.”
My grief around this felt old, like a stone worn smooth. “They sent me to therapy, you know. I definitely understand that I can’t change the past. I can’t undo it. I just have to learn to live with it.”
“I’m glad you came back,” she said softly.
“I needed to. I’ve missed Alaska ever since we moved.”
She reached out, tapping her fingertips under my chin lightly. “That’s how it should be. Sometimes a place holds something for us. No matter how much you talk yourself into worrying, you are welcome here and always will be.” I felt her words in my heart and knew she meant them.
Tommy came skidding into the kitchen, abruptly snapping through the moment. “Grandma!”
Maggie glanced down at him, ruffling his hair. “Yes?”
“I’m out of toothpaste.”
She chuckled. His interruption was the perfect way to lighten what had become an emotionally loaded conversation. “All right, let’s go find you a new tube of toothpaste.”
Tommy glanced over at me. “Happy get-a-new-job day, Elsa,” he announced with a wide smile.
“Thank you.” I waved goodnight and slipped out of the main resort to walk over to the barn.
I’d forgotten how beautiful the stars were in Alaska. There was almost no light pollution out here, so the stars glittered with brightness. My breath misted in the air as I stopped along the small rise between the resort and the barn. Leaning my head back, I felt wide open inside.
“Wow,” I breathed to the sky.
The stars appeared so close, as if I could reach up and hold one in my hand.
When I was little, we’d go out and look at the stars whenever we could, and my dad would point out the constellations to me. Now, it felt like the stars were watching over me.
I resumed walking, my footsteps crunching on the frosty ground. As I walked up the stairs, I wondered if Haven was here. The apartment was quiet when I walked in, and Haven’s room was dark with the door left open, so I assumed he was out.
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