So today, if it was a good day, he’d be able to force out a few phrases and swallow some corn and potatoes. If it was a bad one, he’d grow frustrated at one of the simple tasks they were trying to reteach him, he’d refuse dinner, end up throwing a fit, and need to take one of his special pills to calm him down.
During the longer stretches when Ellie was off from the firehouse and Amelia was busy with the kids, sometimes she forgot the reality of her father’s situation. He’d always been a heroic figure in her life, his white hair and mustache matching his white chief’s shirt perfectly. She’d always thought he looked more like an action figure than a firefighter. But even though he looked so dignified in his dress uniform, her favorite memories of her father were of him wearing an old firehouse tee shirt and tinkering on a project in the garage, mumbling to himself while combing his mustache with his fingertips. She never quite knew what he was working on, but it always had him engrossed.
When her mother was still alive, Amelia loved to watch the way she’d float into his workspace at dinnertime and touch a small spot between his shoulder blades. Then, like she had pressed a button, he would turn and kiss her lightly; his mustache looked like it was tickling her top lip, his hands always resting lightly on her hips like too much pressure would break this fragile, beautiful thing he held in his grasp.
On the day his wife had died, Amelia’s father, still shaken up from the accident and after being forced to leave his wife’s broken body behind in that cold, empty hospital room, had gone straight from the car into his workroom in the garage. Amelia put six-year-old Ellie to bed alone and then spied on him from a crack in the door as he broke apart whatever it was he was creating on that workbench. Piece by piece, he ripped and threw and screamed until the room was covered in pieces of metal and wood. Then Amelia’s hero cried. He cried longer and harder than she had ever known her father could cry.
When the rage had subsided and some semblance of the man she knew had returned, she quietly snuck into the room and put her small, shaking hand between her father’s shoulder blades. He jumped slightly at her touch and then looked up from the table of scattered parts in front of him. She’d never forget the redness in his eyes, the evidence of pain in the trails of tears on his cheeks. She was afraid of the “broken man,” afraid that she would never find the “action figure man” again.
But then he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, his mustache tickling her brow, and pulled her in for a fierce but comforting hug. From that day forward, her father wasn’t her hero because he was an action figure; he was her hero because he was a man who, despite being broken, found a way to still be there for his children. He managed to wake up every morning, go to bed every night, and repeat these actions until they were a family again.
Collin pushed Chief Brown up the steep ramp, Ellie following closely behind. She carried her father’s black workbag over her shoulder like a mother walking her child in to a playdate.
“Hi, Daddy.” Amelia leaned over and kissed her father on his forehead and tried not to remember all the times he’d done the same to her. “I made your favorite dessert—Mom’s shortcake. The girls helped.”
“Um me.” Chief Brown tried to speak. His head bobbed up and down, and Amelia told herself that he smiled. Ellie tried to translate like she always did.
“Yummy? Is that what you are saying, Daddy? Amelia, Daddy thinks that sounds yummy.” She spoke loudly, her voice raised loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It drove Amelia a little crazy when Ellie did the whole translation thing, but there wasn’t any reason to make her stop, so she just internally rolled her eyes and went with it.
Amelia readjusted her focus up about a foot. “Collin, thanks for coming. We’re so happy to have you.” She brushed her hand over his shoulder, and Collin gave her a broad smile.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His reddish-blond hair was combed to one side in a stylish swoop, his dark-rimmed glasses walking that careful line between utilitarian and stylish. Though Caleb had never had the confidence of Collin, there was something reminiscent of the Caleb from her youth in his younger brother’s look.
“Dad can go over by the TV. The game is about to start,” Ellie suggested, and pointed to a large flat-screen television in the corner. Collin pushed Chief Brown into the living room as Ellie pulled her sister in for a hug.
“Good day, bad day?” Amelia asked, pulling back from the embrace. Ellie shrugged with one shoulder in a way that reminded her of little Kate.
“Good day, I guess. Let’s knock on wood, ’cause dinner could be interesting.”
“Yeah?” Amelia tugged on her sister’s long ponytail and urged her into the house. “Are you planning to announce your plans to run away with the circus?”
Ellie stopped cold and took her sister’s hand. Her dark eyes were always inviting to Amelia, like there were some secrets trapped inside that she could find out if she could just look deep enough.
“Not exactly with the circus . . .” Ellie held up her left hand. A solitary diamond set in the center of a platinum band stared up at Amelia.
“What? Ellie!” She yelped loudly at first and then had to ramp down her voice when Collin raised his eyebrows knowingly at her. “When did this happen?”
“Earlier today. I’ll tell you the details later. I want to surprise the girls. Caleb doesn’t know either . . .” Ellie hesitated and glanced around the room before adding quietly, “Or Steve, and I know he doesn’t love Collin.” She mouthed the name. “So, yeah, could be an interesting night.”
“Oh, Steve’s a softy when it comes to you, L. He’ll be ecstatic. I’m so happy for you! Have you set a date?”
“Yeah, um, after Collin’s graduation next year.” She swallowed hard, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “He is going to keep his apartment and do his rotations in Frampton.”
Amelia paused, looked at her sister and then at the glittering ring on her hand. She should be happy: her sister was engaged, was going to live in the same town as her. Amelia could bring her ice cream when she was pregnant, help weed the garden in the spring, go caroling in the winter . . . They could be neighbors and sisters and friends.
But there was a problem. In all the time she’d known and loved her sister, there was only one place Ellie had always wanted to live.
And that was anyplace but Broadlands.
CHAPTER 7
ELLIE
Tuesday, May 10
10:36 a.m.