The trail was showered in sunlight, but the early signs of falls were all around us. Withered leaves clung to their branches for their last few moments of life and their scattered peers littered the soil, having already cut loose from the perch to return to the earth. A recent rainfall had carved long, thin trenches in the dirt trail. Some real ankle twisters.

I carried Denni's backpack and my duffle, where I'd tucked Dad safely inside between my sweatshirt and socks. She had tromped ahead of me taking in the scenery and stopping to examine every pinecone and fallen leaf. My motives for walking behind her had been purely dirty. It was fun as hell to watch her strut along the path with her long legs and perfectly pert ass.

I imagined briefly what it would have been like to hike the trail to the cabin with Emma. She would have whined and complained the entire time. But I'd never bothered to ask her along because I knew she'd have no appreciation for my dad's little cabin in the woods.

I could see the dark green metal roof and tattered brick chimney beyond the tree canopy. "It's just up ahead," I called to Denni.

"I can see it," she called over her shoulder. "Ahh! I love it. It reminds me of a hobbit's house. You didn't tell me it had an arched door and round windows."

I caught up to her.

"He bought it from guy who was a set designer for Disney studios. He wanted the place to be whimsical."

Denni threw her arms around my neck. "Thank you for letting me tag along. I'm having a blast."

"I'm glad.”

Dad hadn't been to the cabin in the six months before his death because he had been too weak to make the hike. Forest litter carpeted the gray stepping stones leading up to the front door. It took some coaxing to get the key to turn in the lock, but the door popped open.

I paused before going in.

Denni took hold of my arm and squeezed it. "This is the first time you've been here without him, isn't it?"

My throat tightened like it always did when I thought too hard about how much I missed him. "Yeah." It was the only word I could choke out.

I stood for a moment longer and then pushed open the door. It was all still the same, the dark blue blanket covering the faded little couch, a thrift store find, the lamp that had a cheesy resin eagle holding up the light bulb in its beak and the laptop on the wobbly wooden desk sitting at the back window, a window that looked out over the deck and the forest. I don't know why I thought it would have changed since our last trip. Maybe only because it didn't seem right that everything looked normal as if nothing had happened, as if Dad hadn't died.

I dropped the bags on the worn green rug sitting in the center of the small room. I took a deep breath, thinking somehow I might catch a scent of his aftershave or the spearmint gum he chewed after the doctor told him to quit smoking or else. Unfortunately, the gum habit started too long after the or else.

I walked over to the laptop and ran my fingers over the smooth metal case. "He was about a third of the way through a book when he decided he just couldn't write anymore. He said the chemotherapy clouded his mind and erased his creativity. I found some of his notes and an outline in his desk at home. It was a political thriller. Ironically, he'd waited his whole life to write a blockbuster, and I think this just might have been it."

I felt the warmth of Denni's body as she stood right behind me. "Well, then, there's only one thing for you to do."

I looked back at her.

"You need to finish your dad's blockbuster."

I laughed off the idea, but her eyes held that passion I'd seen so many times in the short time I'd known her. "I'm serious, Luke. It was meant to be."

I shrugged it off again, but the idea was now firmly planted in my head. I doubted anything would sprout from it, but it was there now. Thanks to Denni.

I needed to shake off the melancholy that had swept over me, or spreading ashes was going to be even harder. "Hey, I think there's a can of coffee in the cupboard. Dad was a big coffee drinker. Would you like a cup? Then I can start a fire. The canopy of trees blocks the sunlight, so this cabin tends to stay cold no matter what the weather."

"I will make the coffee if you start the fire."

"Sounds like a plan." I pointed toward the kitchen. "Second cupboard from the right, top shelf."

Fifteen minutes later, the cabin had come to life with the rich aroma of coffee and the astringent smoky scent of pine glowing in the hearth. Denni rested her head against my shoulder as we stood sipping coffee and watching the flames grow. I felt so at ease with her. So happy. As if I would never need another person in my life as long as I had Denni. I wanted badly to tell her, but the words stuck in my throat. I had no right to profess love for a woman I’d just met, a woman who had her own path in life, whatever that path was. I had no right when I was still bound to Emma, even if that connection seemed to be breaking with each passing day.

"I think I'm ready to spread out the ashes. A breeze always kicks up in the afternoon, not exactly ideal for spreading ashes."

Denni held her coffee with one hand and wrapped the fingers of her free hand around mine. "I'm here for you, buddy."

My throat thickened again. "I'm really glad you're here, buddy."

Denni took my coffee and returned the cups to the kitchen while I dug through my bag for the urn. We met at the sliding glass door, which was stuck shut as usual. I gave it a shake to loosen it.

The chilled scent of pine drifted over the deck. A squirrel had been nibbling a fallen pinecone on the railing. It spotted us and ran off with its treat.

Denni followed me out to the railing. Her arm pressed against mine, and I was glad to have her so close.

Evergreens of every shape and size stood around creating uneven shadows across the deck.

"My dad used to say the trees looked like obedient soldiers guarding his cabin." I pointed to one that was about six feet tall and full enough to moonlight as a Christmas tree in a bank or mall. "Dad planted that one when he first bought this place. It was a thin little twig with a few pine needles, but he took care of it and it flourished. He called it Harold."

Denni giggled and the lyrical sound fit perfectly into the picture postcard setting.

I lifted the urn and removed the cap. "Well, Dad, you're home." My voice wavered. Denni reached up, pushed my hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek. I took a deep breath and tossed the gray dust out over the landscape.

"I'm not too sure how I'll get along without you, Dad." I wiped discretely at my eye. "I'll miss you." I placed the urn on the railing and watched as the ashes floated in every different direction and around the bases of the trees.

I turned toward Denni. She threw her arms around me. I held her tightly.