1. Abby

1

ABBY

A bby Parker understood the fragility of life. At any moment, everything could change for worse or better. Change for the better was less clear, more stretched over time, subtle as it unfolded. But tragedy? It arrived with shattering brutality, not caring if it left one weeping on the bathroom floor, wondering how anything so horrific could happen to someone so good, so decent. A single mother of two children who lies down on a Sunday afternoon for a well-deserved nap and never wakes? Impossible to understand or reconcile or make absolutely any sense of at all, and yet it was true.

Abby’s beautiful thirty-two-year-old cousin, Ramona, had died from an undetected heart condition, leaving her nine-year-old daughter and six-year-old son to face the rest of their lives without her.

Abby was somewhere in the middle of Nevada when she got the call. She’d been singing along to the radio on her way to her new life in Colorado. She’d accepted a partnership with her best friend from veterinarian school in the small town of Emerson Pass, Colorado, and had all her earthly possessions in her car. Breck had taken over his mother's practice upon her retirement. Since then, he’d married, and now his wife was pregnant thus he wanted more time to spend with them. She hadn’t had to think twice about the offer of a full partnership. The little town was idyllic. His practice was well run. And she’d be working with her best friend. Although cautiously optimistic by nature, she’d felt excited for her new life.

The number had been a Vermont area code, or she might not have answered at all.

Given how Abby and Ramona had once spent many warm summers days daydreaming about the hunky Hayes brothers who lived on the maple syrup farm next to the Parkers’ farm, it was surreal that Logan Hayes was the one who called to tell her. There had been four Hayes siblings, all boys, each as handsome and smart as the other. Apparently, Logan, the third Hayes brother, was now an attorney. Ramona had hired him to put together her will, which included who would take the children should she die unexpectedly.

When she answered the phone, Logan Hayes had somehow known she was in the car. “If you’re driving, I’d suggest you pull to the side of the road.”

She’d known immediately something was wrong. Her palms dampened, and her pulse quickened, knowing what he was about to say before he said it.

“I’m afraid I have some terrible news. It’s about your cousin, Ramona.”

She’d held her breath, waiting.

“She’s passed away. As I’m sure you remember, she has named you as the guardian of her children. Sophie and Jack.”

Sophie and Jack. Motherless.

No, no, no. Impossible.

In shock, she’d listened as Logan rattled off details, not fully comprehending what he was saying.

When Ramona had asked if she would take the children if anything should happen to her, she had not hesitated to agree. What could she say, after all? She and Ramona, other than Sophie and Jack, were the only two family members still living. There was no one else. Ramona’s husband had been killed in Afghanistan during his third tour, prompting Ramona to put her will in place. At the time, Abby hadn’t thought much of it, figuring the odds were slim that Ramona’s children would lose another parent. How much tragedy could one family endure?

Apparently, a lot.

She’d wanted to scream into the phone, demanding Logan Hayes admit it was all a lie. Heart failure in a young woman who appeared fit and healthy? Impossible.

Now, she slowed as she saw the sign for Sugarville Grove. Her stomach fluttered with nerves. She’d only been to Sugarville Grove twice since her mother died. Before that, she’d spent a month every summer in Vermont, delighted to get out of noisy, hot Los Angeles and escape to one of the most beautiful places in the world. Ramona had been her favorite person, more like a sister than a cousin. Her aunt Sally was Abby’s mother’s sister, and the two of them had grown up in the very house that Abby was headed to now.

Although the idea of taking on two children she barely knew was daunting, leaving that work to a stranger was unfathomable. Abby had made a promise, and she intended to keep it. Even though she knew nothing about kids. Animals were more her speed.

As if he agreed, Rufus, her yellow Lab, woke from his nap in the back seat and raised his head.

“Yep, we’re here, buddy. This is our new home.”

Rufus whined and placed his chin on the back of the passenger-side seat.

“You’re a country dog now.”

She heard his tail thumping against the side of the door.

“I think you’re going to like it here. Maybe I will, too. I don’t know.” She’d been excited to live in Emerson Pass. How different could a small town in Vermont be?

Because Emerson Pass wasn’t full of memories like Sugarville Grove.

Sugarville Grove was all tangled up in memories of her mother.

Abby had been only fifteen the summer her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. Sharon Parker had sent Abby out to Vermont for the entire summer. At the time, Abby had felt shipped off, as if her mother wanted to rid herself of anything that distracted her from healing. Abby knew now, however, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, that her mother had merely wanted to spare her the pain of watching the cancer eat away at her until there was nothing left.

Sharon had gone into remission that fall, and Abby had hoped her mother had beaten it. Her mother had been a warrior. There wasn't much she couldn't do, after all, including raising Abby on her own. But it was not to be. The cancer returned the year Abby graduated from high school. It had swept in fast, wrecking her angelic mother. All Abby could do was watch helplessly. Six months after the doctors told her the cancer had returned, she was gone.

Even now, after all these years, the pain of that loss still lived in Abby’s chest. Losing one’s mother, no matter what age you were, left a hole that could never again be filled.

Abby had to take Sophie and Jack, even though she knew she would never replace their mother.

Another soft whine of support came from the back seat. Her good boy always knew just what to say to make her feel better. He was only a year old—a treat to herself when she’d finished her residency. He may still have been a puppy, but he had an old soul. Abby could swear he could read her thoughts and had crawled into her heart in that inexplicable way only dogs could do.

On Maple Street now, Abby passed the country store, then the elementary school. She slowed as she entered the main part of town. Sugarville Grove hadn't changed much, even if Abby’s world had been turned upside down. Same quaint brick buildings and adorable businesses. The town square had already been decorated for Christmas, with sparkling lights and garland strung around old-fashioned lampposts.

Wasn’t it too early for Christmas decorations? No, Thanksgiving was tomorrow, she realized. She’d lost track of the days on her long journey across the country.

She continued on Maple Street through town and turned left onto Rabbit Run Road. There was a sign for Little Bear Lake to her right, but she couldn’t see the water in the dark night. She vaguely remembered stopping at a produce stand with Ramona and her aunt somewhere along this road.

The thought of her cousin made her stomach lurch. How could she be gone from this earth? She’d been so young and vital. She’d been so needed.

And now there was no one, but Abby left. Her aunt was gone. Her mother. And now Ramona.

Not everyone , a voice whispered in her ear. The children are still here. And they needed her.

She passed farms on both sides of the two-lane road, their lights from windows and porches a welcome sight on this dark evening. Soon, the GPS told her to turn right onto the dirt road they shared with the Hayes family. She slowed to a crawl, bouncing along, her hands increasingly tightening around the steering wheel. Lights from the Hayeses’ maple syrup farm twinkled as if welcoming her. Did the handsome brothers still live in the area?

Logan had mentioned that his parents, Grace and Walter Hayes, had been looking after the children temporarily. She hadn’t thought to ask Logan if his brothers still lived in Sugarville Grove. Abby had crushed hard on the eldest of the brothers, Luke Hayes. Sadly, he hadn’t known she was alive. He’d been four years older than Ramona and Abby and had thought of them as little kids. Or they assumed so, anyway, since he never looked their way. Ever.

She and Ramona had discussed the four boys’ merits during long, warm summer days in the tree house, eating candy while keeping an eye on the happenings across the pasture. Luke had been the brooding, mysterious type who never seemed to stop working around the farm. Max, witty and outgoing, had a reputation for being adventurous, claiming he was going to travel the world. Logan had been assertive and the type to challenge authority, which made sense that he’d become a lawyer. Nolan had been easygoing and intelligent, with his head always buried in a book. The Hayes boys had been too busy helping their father run his farm to pay them any mind. But that hadn’t stopped Ramona and Abby from dreaming about someday marrying one of them.

As it turned out, Ramona had married a man from two towns over named John Ellison. He’d been like Ramona, good to the bone. Gone too soon.

At the end of the lane, it forked, with her family’s farm to the right and the Hayeses’ to the left. She turned right into the driveway and soon came upon the house.

“Here it is, Rufus. This is where Sophie and Jack live.”

They were waiting for her. God help them.

She gripped the steering wheel, thinking about what she knew about the children, which, frankly, wasn’t much. Sophie would be ten sometime in the next few weeks. Abby could never remember the exact date of her birthday, but it was sometime around Christmas. Her little brother Jack was only six. He’d just started first grade that fall. Back in September, Ramona had texted their first-day-of-school photograph. Abby had smiled at the sight of the precious children, but it was from a distance, not only of miles but from an absence of understanding anything of what motherhood was all about. Ramona’s and Abby’s lives had taken such different paths. It was hard to remember how close they’d been as children. How similar.

The image of that photograph played before Abby’s eyes. Sophie took after her father—blond and blue-eyed. Whereas, Jack looked like his mother, with dark hair and big green eyes.

Abby had only seen them a handful of times. A few years back, Ramona had brought them to LA for a trip to Disneyland and asked if Abby wanted to join them for a few days of fun. However, it had been impossible to take time away from her residency. She’d been only able to spare a lunch. How she regretted it now.

Why had she not been more present? Kinder? Empathetic.

Remorse and guilt tightened her stomach and dried her mouth.

Despite her self-flagellation, she knew it was not as simple as that. Since she’d graduated from high school, Abby had been consumed with college, then veterinary school, and finally her residency. The days had been blurred from long hours with little sleep and a sense that she must survive the last years of her residency, and then she could begin to live again.

The old farmhouse looked as weary as she felt. There were few lights on, only a faint glimmer from the front porch and from the front windows. She turned off the car engine and sat for a few seconds in silence before opening the door and stepping into the cold air that bit her cheeks and almost immediately chilled her. Her California blood was not accustomed to the frigid temperatures.

“You can do this,” she muttered to herself. “I have to do this, right, Rufus?”

A soft bark and more tail wagging told her she had his full support.

She got out first and then opened the back door for Rufus to jump to the ground. He took off running, barking happily, right into their new life. If only she could be that brave and enthusiastic. She squinted into the darkness, barely able to see him relieve himself at the foot of a sugar maple that grew on the edge of the yard.

Rufus quickly returned, even though she knew he would prefer to sniff every inch of the yard.

“Come on, boy. They’re waiting for us.”

With Rufus trotting next to her, Abby’s boots crunched in fallen leaves from the white oak that she remembered from her youth. It had grown taller and wider in the years since she’d last been here. She remembered the wooden swing that hung listlessly from one thick branch. Abby and Ramona had taken turns pushing each other.

Higher, higher.

Ramona was gone, but the tree remained. Feeling slightly dizzy, she gulped air, taking in the scent of decaying leaves and evergreen trees.

Rufus leaned against her, his strong, warm body giving her strength. She scratched behind his ears, murmuring her thanks to her furry friend.

The dog leaped ahead and then waited for her at the top of the steps to the wraparound porch. She followed, floorboards creaking underfoot as she crossed to the front door and knocked. For a moment, she detached completely from her body. She could almost see herself standing there, dressed in her new winter coat and knit cap over her long, honey-streaked hair. If her LA friends could see her now, they wouldn’t recognize her.

Rufus sat on his haunches, tail wagging, clearly less intimidated and nervous than Abby. She stroked his ears to gather courage.

The sound of feet on hardwood floors penetrated the still, quiet night before the door swung open. There stood Jack, with a white-haired woman in a green sweater and jeans behind him. She knew right away the woman was Mrs. Hayes. Although her hair had whitened, her brown eyes and round face remained the same. And Jack? He looked so much like Ramona that it took Abby’s breath away—brown hair, full pink cheeks, and soulful green eyes. Grief stabbed at her chest. How could this little boy be without his mother? It was wrong.

“Hi, I’m Abby.” She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. She could have a good cry later. Right now, she must remain strong for the children. She owed Ramona that much.

Jack’s face lit up at the sight of Rufus, but he didn’t try to pet him. Instead, Jack stayed close to Mrs. Hayes. Rufus, bless his soul, remained on his haunches, smiling and wagging his tail.

“Abby, welcome to Vermont.” Mrs. Hayes held out her hand. “I’m Grace Hayes. Do you remember me from your visits?”

Abby smiled despite the trembling in her legs. “Yes, of course. The maple syrup family with all the handsome brothers. Mrs. Hayes, how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Please, call me Grace. My boys are all grown now but still handsome despite the antics that turned my hair silver.”

Green eyes peered up at her from cherubic cheeks. “Is that your dog?” Jack asked.

“Yes, this is Rufus.” Should she hold out her hand or kneel and embrace the little guy? What did six-year-old boys want or need? She had no earthly idea. “You can pet him if you’d like. He’s very friendly.”

Jack reached out a small hand and patted Rufus’s head. “Hi, Rufus.”

Rufus licked Jack’s fingers. Abby watched closely, curious to see if the boy was afraid of dogs. Clearly, he wasn’t. He’d grown up in the country, after all. She suspected he was accustomed to domestic and wild animals.

“Come on in out of the cold. I hope the trip wasn’t too arduous?” Grace stood back, gesturing for her to come inside.

“Driving across country isn’t for the faint of heart.” Abby stepped into the house. A burst of warmth carried the scent of woodsmoke and something savory cooking in the kitchen.

“Sophie’s waiting for us in the kitchen,” Grace said. “The girl always has her nose in a book.”

“Thank God for books,” Abby said. “Or none of us would get through life.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Grace asked.

Rufus wandered off, sniffing every nook and cranny, with Jack not far behind. Grace took her coat while Abby stole a quick glance around. The entryway still had the wide-planked floor she remembered, softened by a braided rug, frayed at the edges. A sturdy wooden table held a stack of mail. Floral-patterned wallpaper had become a soft, muted backdrop to framed photos of the children—new additions to the wall since the last time she'd been here.

Grace led her into the living room. Not much had changed. Although Abby hadn’t thought much about the house or happy times she’d spent here with Ramona and her aunt Sally, the room felt familiar and strangely comforting. Furniture, a little tired and worn, included a plaid couch covered with a knitted yellow throw. Two easy chairs sat beside a wood fireplace, where logs crackled and glowed behind a steel grate. Firewood had been stacked in a rack on the hearth. Family photos, a handmade candle, and an old clock that still ticked softly decorated the mantel.

The walls were painted a faint green. They’d been a butter yellow the last time she’d been here. Someone had neatly tucked various toys into a corner basket, and a built-in bookshelf held well-read paperbacks and a few family board games.

A family lived here.

God help her.

Jack ran toward the kitchen, yelling out to his sister, “She has a dog.”

“Does it look the same as you remember?” Grace asked.

“Yes, pretty much.” Abby could feel her scrutiny as the older woman observed the long-lost cousin who was to take the job of a woman irreplaceable to the children. Yet Abby felt no judgment, only a generous curiosity emanating from the woman.

“How are they? The children,” Abby asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. Rufus returned, sitting dutifully by her side.

Grace glanced toward the picture on the mantel of Ramona and the children standing in front of a vintage red truck, probably taken a few years back. “They’re suffering. I’m not sure how much Jack understands, but our Sophie, she’s taken it hard. As one would expect of a girl who worshipped her mother.”

Abby’s stomach convulsed with empathy. “I remember that feeling when my mother died, and I was eighteen years old, not nine. I’m at a loss to understand how this could have happened. It still doesn’t feel real.”

“Yes, we feel the same.”

By we , Abby assumed her husband and sons, but she didn’t ask.

“Do you know how people come up with nice things to say about someone after they’re gone, even if it’s not quite the whole truth?” Grace asked softly.

Abby nodded, smiling, thinking of Dr. Simmons, a professor who had tortured her and her classmates for several semesters before dying suddenly of a stroke. She, Breck, and Arabella, her best friends, had gone to the memorial and managed to come up with a thing or two to tell his wife. “Yes, I do.”

Grace’s eyes filled. “Well, Ramona—she was the opposite. I can’t think of one bad thing to say about her. She’d had a hard time of it after she lost John, you know. Money had been tight. Raising the kids alone. Yet she never complained. She loved those kids more than anything.”

“I know.” Abby’s words caught at the back of her throat.

“Which means she must have known what she was doing, if she left them with you.”

Her kind words nearly crumpled Abby. Tears scratched at the backs of her eyes, but she willed them away. “I’m not sure I’m up for the task, to be honest. I know nothing about children or living in the country.”

“You’ve been focused on other things. Becoming a veterinarian is a great accomplishment and not easy, I’m sure.” Grace had one of those soothing voices, low-pitched and melodic. The voice of a mother.

Which Abby was surely not.

Grace drew nearer and patted her shoulder. “I can imagine you must be frightened out of your mind.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“As a mother of four boys, I can tell you there was nothing I wouldn’t have done to keep them safe and pave the way for a happy life. Again, Ramona would not have chosen you on a whim.”

“We were close when we were kids, but in recent years—well, I wasn’t in touch much. The call was a shock in more ways than one.”

“How could it not be?” Grace looked into Abby’s eyes. “We’re here for you. Anything you need, and I can be here in five minutes.”

She thanked her when really she wanted to say, I don’t know what I’m doing. What if I’m not enough?

Grace, however, seemed to hear Abby’s thoughts. “You’ll never replace their mother, not because you won’t be perfectly capable of looking after them, but because no one can. But you’ll find your way. If you love them, you’ll be enough.”

But I don’t know them. How could I love them?

“Now, come along to the kitchen. We have some warm supper for you. I hope you like chicken stew.”

Despite her nervousness, the idea of a home-cooked meal sounded delightful. “I like anything other people make. I’m not much of a cook.”

“Well, I don’t cook anything fancy myself, but I managed to feed my brood over the years. They’re all over six feet tall, so my simple grub must have done the trick.”

Abby followed Grace into the kitchen, her footsteps muffled by another well-worn rug. Ah, yes, the kitchen. She’d loved it as a child. So many happy meals had been shared at the rough but sturdy table. A large farmhouse sink had its share of chips and scratches in the enamel. Various items and appliances populated the tidy counters. The source of the delicious smell came from a pot simmering on the old cookstove.

Abby’s gaze turned to the slight, pale girl sitting at the rustic table reading a book. Sophie wore her long blond hair in a braid down her back.

“Sophie, Abby’s here,” Mrs. Hayes said. “Can you say hello?”

Sophie looked up, a resolute politeness etched into her face. “Hello.” Dark smudges stained the areas under her big blue eyes.

Abby’s instincts told her they were similar, holding themselves as tightly together as humanly possible, for fear of dissolving into paralyzing grief.

Rufus, who had no problem with shyness, sauntered over and nudged Sophie’s knee with his nose.

“This is Rufus,” Abby said.

Sophie shut her book and took a long look at Rufus, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Hi, Rufus.” She patted his head.

He wagged his tail and licked her hand.

“I already told her about Rufus.” Jack plopped himself down at the table. “When are we eating?”

“Very soon,” Grace said. “Will you please set the table for me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. “But Sophie should help.”

Sophie withdrew her hand from Rufus and stood. “I’ll get the bowls if you do the silverware.”

“What about napkins?” Jack asked.

“I’ll get them,” his sister replied, with a combination of resignation and indulgence in her voice. “But we should both wash our hands.”

Jack obediently followed her to the sink, where he stood on a short bench to scrub his hands. Sophie waited patiently and then did the same.

Sophie looked after him. Like a little adult. No one should have to grow up at nine years old.

“Grace, are you staying to eat with us?” Sophie opened a cupboard where white bowls were stacked neatly.

“Yes, of course.” Grace caught Abby’s eye, and her meaning was obvious. She would not want to leave the three of them alone just yet. Abby nodded her thanks.

Soon, they were all sitting around the table enjoying Mrs. Hayes’s delicious stew, soaked up with chunks of warm sourdough bread. Rufus lay at Abby’s feet, patiently waiting his turn for supper. Abby had his food and water bowls in the car. She must not forget to feed him after they ate.

The children didn’t speak much, but Grace filled Abby in on some details. Since tomorrow was Thanksgiving, Sophie and Jack were out of school until Monday. They’d attend school for a few more weeks before breaking for the winter holiday.

Dread made the bites of stew heavy in her stomach. She would be alone with them for the long weekend. What would they do? And what was she supposed to do about a Thanksgiving meal? Did they have takeout here?

“We’d love to have you for Thanksgiving supper,” Graced said. “Ramona always came over with the kids for holiday meals.”

“Only since Dad died,” Sophie said, deadpan. “Before that we were a real family and didn’t have to accept charity.”

Grace once again looked over at Abby, and an understanding passed between them. Sophie was hurting and angry.

“We’re still a family,” Jack said. “Mom said we were. Remember?”

Sophie didn’t answer; she simply stabbed a carrot with her fork.

“Should I bring anything?” Abby asked. “Or we, I mean.”

“My mom always made Jell-O salad,” Sophie said. “She knew it was our favorite.”

“But don’t worry about bringing anything,” Grace said. “You’ll have a lot to do tomorrow. What about unpacking and getting settled?”

“Where is she sleeping?” Sophie asked, with more than a hint of hostility in her tone.

“I’ve made up your mother’s bed for her,” Grace said evenly.

“Then it’s no longer Mom’s bed,” Sophie said.

“Will it bother you if I sleep there?” Abby asked. “Because I can sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t care.” Sophie shrugged in a way that told Abby she very much cared.

Who could blame her? Abby was a stranger to her. A stranger taking their mother’s room must feel unbearable. Yet what was Abby to do? She was here. They were stuck with her.

But she would sleep on the couch, at least for tonight. Baby steps, her instincts whispered.