Page 11 of Into the Mountains (Blue Grove Mountain #3)

“We won’t be much longer when he changes,” Charlotte insists, pointing a thumb in my direction. She makes her way to the coffee machine, claiming a mug of her own and filling it almost to the top.

“I told you I can’t. All my clothes are packed up as of thirty minutes ago. Unless you want to go through my boxes of clothes and dig out a sweater, you’re stuck matching with me.”

She snarls at me and I can practically hear her groan.

“Hey, what’s a six letter word that finishes the phrase, enemies to—”

“Really, honey?”

“What? I don’t even understand what that means,” George defends himself.

“No ide—” I start to say, but Charlotte interrupts.

“Lovers.”

Everyone’s eyebrows perk up, but she is unfazed as always and just sips her coffee.

“What? Don’t you all read books? You know?

Enemies to lovers? The main characters hate each other at the beginning of the book and throughout the story?

They go on some big adventure, continue to hate and tease each other only to eventually fall in love and then live happily ever after? ”

Silence stretches like taffy, slow and steady, until Sky breaks it. “I prefer friends to lovers,” she says, throwing Jacob a look that I really don’t want to know the meaning behind.

“Alright.” I clap my hands together, breaking the tension, but also bringing the attention onto myself. “We don’t have that much stuff to move and we might actually get it all in the U-Haul. Everything is packed and in boxes besides the coffee stuff.”

“I’ll wash it and put it away in a box,” Isabelle volunteers. I nod at her in thanks.

“I’ll get started on the other kitchen boxes.” George stands, pocketing his crossword and pencil and grabs the nearest box labeled plates.

Hudson and Jacob discuss the best way to get the couch out of the door while Sky and Avery follow Ethan to his room.

Charlotte is standing at the kitchen island, leaning down on it, concentrating on the drink in front of her.

Her hair is pulled back today in a low ponytail, strands coming loose at the front.

Blinders on, I pass her on the way to my bedroom to start grabbing boxes from there. I have a task to focus on, something to take me away from the fact that an ex I never thought I’d see again is standing in my kitchen. There’s an eerie strangeness in the house now. One I want to get away from.

By the time I’m done with the boxes in the bedroom, everyone is busy in other areas of the house.

The living room is packed up and the floors are bare.

The kitchen is free of the boxes that were stacked near the door and the small house is starting to feel a bit bigger, an echo present now that the furniture is gone.

“There’s still one more box in the coat closet, Dad!

” Ethan calls excitedly as he walks by me with another box that seems too heavy for his size.

Hudson sees it too, because as soon as he makes it to the stairs, he takes the box from him and carries it the rest of the way to the trailer, playing the ever so present game of Tetris that shows up when there’s a big move.

With the melody of truck beds closing, and feet shuffling in the grass and thumping on the porch, I make my way to see the box that was left behind in the coat closet to grab what seems to be the last box. Ethan may be right because looking around all I see are bare floors and clear counter space.

The box he was talking about is one that’s on the top shelf, but it’s sticking out just enough for him to see it. I’m still surprised he noticed it, however, I’m not going to be surprised by its contents. I know exactly what’s in it.

I remember going through the house a year or so after Sarah died and finally cleaning out her things.

I donated some of her clothes, the ones Isabelle and Sky didn’t want, which was most of them.

But there were a few items I couldn’t part with and I didn’t feel like I had to if I didn’t want to.

So I stored them away in a safe place—some of the heartache trapped along with it.

My fingers brush the edges of the box as I try to nudge it down.

I’m almost six foot, but when I stored this up here, I had to use a step stool.

It’s already packed and I’m pushing my luck, stretching above my head as much as I can.

My pride won’t let me ask for help though.

Not with this. I want to do this on my own. I think I need to.

I almost get a grip on the box, but I can feel myself start to lose my balance.

The box is off the shelf just enough to tip toward me before I can adjust my hands and I fall back into the wall behind me.

The box and all its contents crashes to the ground and I hear a shatter from inside.

The box or my chest, I’m not sure which.

Small footsteps come running in and suddenly I feel like crying. The one thing I could have kept for him, kept safe and I couldn’t even do that right.

“Dad, are you okay? We heard a crash.” His voice softens when he sees me sitting on the floor, my back pressed against the wall of the hallway, my attempt at holding back tears failing.

“You know, Ethan, I’m not so sure if I am.” I think it’s the first time I’ve been fully honest with him about how I feel. It’s always “I’m fine”, or “of course I’m okay.” I’m always okay.

I’m always okay.

Right now though, I’m not okay. And for once, I don’t feel like lying to him. He’s old enough to know and maybe it’ll help him too.

He comes to sit next to me, mimicking my posture. His arms come to rest around his knees and suddenly he seems so…small.

“I’m not sure I am either,” he admits so softly I almost don’t hear him.

“I thought you were excited about the move?” I ask, looking over. His eyes stay on his knees in front of him.

“I am excited. I’m really excited actually. But,” he hesitates and looks at me. I nod, encouraging him to go on.

“This was our home as a family.” Tears shine in his eyes and that shattering in my chest I heard earlier only grows louder.

“It was.”

“I don’t want to leave her behind.”

Putting my arm around him and pulling him close to my chest, I kiss the top of his head.

“Never,” I choke out. “She’s with us always, Son.

No matter where we go.” And for the first time in a long time, we cry together, not letting go of one another.

Our lifeboats on a sinking ship, we hold on as tight as we can until the seas start to calm.

With one tight squeeze, he loosens his grip and I let him draw back as I grab for the box.

“I couldn’t leave this behind.” I pull it closer and hope when I open it, the shattering sound wasn’t an omen of things to come.

Carefully, I pull out the now shattered picture frame and slowly tug the photo free of the broken glass.

“Maybe we can get a new frame for the picture and hang it up somewhere at the new house.” Ethan’s words sound more like a question than anything else and I feel the familiar sense of guilt well up inside that I put even one picture of his mother away.

This one is from the day before we found out about her diagnosis.

We had no idea what was coming and the two of us are looking at each other like we have all the time in the world to live our lives together with our son.

She had teased me about the teal sweater I wore that day.

I was convinced it was a shade of green and she insisted it wasn’t.

We fake argued about it all day to the point we looked up the exact sweater I bought to see the color that was listed.

Sarah was right. And I still don’t wear teal.

“Whoa, Dad, look at this!” Ethan quickly buries his small hand into the box, diving for whatever it is he sees.

“Ethan, be careful. There’s glass everywhere.”

He listens and uses his other hand to move a few scarves, a box of jewelry, and a few books carefully out of the way. When he pulls his hand out of the box, a bracelet is dangling from his fingers. It’s nothing flashy. That wasn’t Sarah’s style.

It’s a simple gold leather band with an engraved circular pendant in the middle.

“What’s on it?”

Without even inspecting it, he answers. “Erebor.”

“Erebor?” This is something I should know, I can feel it.

“It’s the symbol of Erebor, Dad.” He says it like it should be obvious, but it’s still not. Cue the dad guilt. Again.

He looks up at me and when he sees the confused look on my face, his eyes roll practically to the ceiling. “It’s from The Hobbit, Dad. It’s about time you read it.”

“I’ve tried.” I have. I just can’t seem to retain anything when I do try to read it.

I’ll read a page and then be confused on the next one because I can’t remember what I just read on the previous one.

I’ve never been able to read much. “Maybe it’s time I try again though,” I say, because I can’t help but want to do everything I can to relate to my son in some way.

“Can you help me?” He reaches out his wrist and hands me the bracelet. I secure it to his wrist and study the symbol for a moment. I’ve seen it before in his room and on his collectibles.

“Erebor is the Lonely Mountain, right?”

He lifts his eyebrow in suspicion. “How’d you know that?”

“I may not have read the book, kid, but I’ve seen that movie with you and your mom way more times than I can count.”

The corners of his lips lift slightly. If I wasn’t looking, I would have missed it, but the smile was there. Usually at the mention of Sarah, it’s a lot of tears and heartache. It would be good to have more smiles once in a while.

“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

Before I have a chance to say anything, Ethan bounces out the door toward our family, leaving me here to say goodbye.

And I think I’m ready to do the same.