“That was awesome, Dad!” Emmalyn pulls her boots off and shakes the snow on the painted blue steps of the porch. “Thanks for letting me drive the snowmobile. It’s so much more fun than riding on the back.”

“You’re right about that. You scared the heck out of me trying to hold on when you were doing donuts in the snow.” I chuckle. I use the railing to help me get up because my leg is stiff from being out in the cold. “Why don’t you go inside and warm up. I’m going to sit out here on the porch for a few minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Do you want marshmallows?”

“Who drinks hot chocolate without them?” I laugh, and she heads inside.

Wolfe hated marshmallows. He’s been on my mind so much lately that I’ve started having trouble sleeping again. I keep having nightmares of the day he was killed. Sometimes my dreams are so vivid, I feel like they are real. Remembering that day always brings me down.

I woke up lying face down in the dirt with blood dried on my face. I don’t know how long I lay there, but the enemy soldiers must have thought they killed me. They beat me, leaving me for dead. Nothing hurt until I tried to move. I spit the dirt out of my mouth as I tried to roll. I screamed out in agony when I made it to my back. I looked down to see a compound fracture of my right thigh. The pain was so fierce, I turned my head and puked. I told myself I had to get it together if I wanted to make it out of the desert alive. I slowed my breathing and focused on survival and trying to get to Wolfe.

The jeep was upside down behind me. I cranked my head around to look for him. “Wolfe! Can you hear me?” Dead silence. Stretching my arms above me, I pulled myself closer to the jeep, using the door that was open. Beads of sweat rolled off my face from the searing pain in my leg. Ignoring it, I rolled back over so I could look inside. Wolfe was still in his seat, hanging upside down, strapped in by his seat belt. I used the steering wheel to pull myself further inside. “Wolfe, please don’t be dead,” I kept repeating to myself. I knew before I touched him that he was gone. His forehead was caved in, and blood was already dried in his hair. “No!” I screamed over and over, not wanting any of it to be real.

“Dad. Dad!”

“Yeah.” I jump.

“I’ve been calling your name.” Emmalyn hands me a mug of hot chocolate.

“Sorry, baby. I was lost in thought.” I take it from her, my hands shaking from the memory.

She watches me cautiously and sits in the rocker next to me. “I heard you last night.”

“You heard what?”

“I heard you screaming in your sleep. Grandpa stopped me before I went in to wake you up.” She’s scooping up the marshmallows with her finger.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Were you dreaming about Mom?”

Her dark eyes look so sad. “I only have good dreams about your mother.”

“So, it must have been about Wolfe. I miss him too. He would always pretend he was the drummer in a band with me when he would visit.”

I rub the top of her head. “I do miss him.”

“Why do people die?” Her eyes hood over.

“Everybody dies at some point. But, I don’t know why some people die way before they should.”

“Do you think Mom watches over me?” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“She and Wolfe are both keeping an eye on you.”

“What are you guys doing sitting out here in the cold?” My mom pokes her head out the door, interrupting our conversation.

“We’re drinking hot chocolate.” Emmalyn lifts her mug in the air, all signs of tears are gone.

“Well, come inside soon. Dinner is almost ready. David, you have mail on the desk.”

Mom is the only one besides Timber that calls me David. Once I went into the military, I almost forgot I had a first name. We both get up and go inside the warm house.

“Go get cleaned up for dinner, Emmalyn.” She rolls her eyes then heads up the stairs. “Dad must have brought the mail home from the store.” There is a letter from Shay, and she only has the store address.

“Yeah, he stopped by this morning and picked it up.”

Needing to warm up, I go into the living room and build a fire in the fireplace. Once it’s roaring hot, I sit on the plaid couch and make myself comfortable, propping my feet on the ottoman. I unfold the letter, finding I’m eager to read it as my stomach flutters.

I gaze over her handwriting before I start. It almost reminds me of a beautiful song, the way it flows. It’s very similar to Timber’s handwriting. She would leave me handwritten notes tucked away in our house, knowing at some point I would run across them. Some simply said I love you. Others were very sexy, saying what she wanted to do to me. She had a Polaroid camera, so some of them were not notes at all; they were pictures of her smiling, blowing me a kiss, and on occasion, they were shots of her nude. Those were always my favorite and very effective. I would stop whatever I was doing and run home to her.

I clear my head and my throat before I read Shay’s letter, absorbing every written word.

She sounds like someone who does nothing but work. She needs a vacation. I get up and limp across the old wooden floor to the desk in the corner of the room. I take out a piece of paper and pen and write her another letter.

---

Shay,

You sound like you are a busy woman and could use some fun. Jackson would be a great place to take a vacation. I’ll include some brochures from the store so you can see what adventures you could have here. I know a great little stone cottage on the outskirts of town. It keeps rented in the winter with all the tourists, but I could see if they’ve had any cancellations. If you decide to visit Jackson, I would love to meet you.

As far as Wolfe and his father are concerned, they had a complicated relationship. His father was an alcoholic as far back as Wolfe could remember. He was a very closed off man and never let Wolfe into his life. I guess that is kind of obvious since Wolfe had no idea he had a twin sister. He told Wolfe his mom had died and never talked about her. He was always hard on Wolfe. He showed no love toward him at all. It’s amazing that he turned out to be such a good man. I’ll send you a picture of Wolfe smiling so that you can see he is as I described him.

It’s funny you made the remark about the lyrics of music. My wife used to say the same thing. She loved music and was in a rock band for a few years. I was her groupie. She was one of the most beautiful women inside and out that I had ever met. Anyway, she quit the band because the lyrics either weren’t heard over the music, or they all sounded the same after a while.

I know it’s strange, but I do feel a connection to you, even if you aren’t Wolfe’s sister. I would love it if you came for a visit. You could meet my twelve-year-old daughter, who wants to be a rock ’n’ roll star. And, no, most of the time she’s rolling her eyes at me, so I don’t think I’m her hero, more like a pain in her ass. LOL. I do miss the days when she was daddy’s little girl. The hugs are few and far between now. I think between my parents and me, we have spoiled her rotten. I’ve tried to make up for the mother she lost. It’s funny though, how she can be so much like a person she was never around. The fire in her is Timber through and through. Not only does she look like her, she moves like her too. The mannerisms are uncanny. She can be sweet one minute and a spitfire the next, but I wouldn’t want her any other way.

---

“David! Dinner is ready,” Mom’s voice bellows through the house. I leave the letter folded on the desk and make my way to the kitchen to join my family at the old wooden farm-style table.

“Was that letter about Wolfe’s sister? Have you gotten any closer to finding her?” my dad asks.

“No. The woman that lives at the address isn’t his sister. It was a dead-end.” I pick up the mash potatoes and scoop some onto my plate.

“But, you’re still writing her?” Dad raises his shaggy gray eyebrows.

“Yeah, I sent her Wolfe’s belongings before I knew she wasn’t his twin. So, she’s sending them back. Funny though, I get the feeling she’s lost. She does nothing but work all the time.”

“Is she married?” Mom asks.

My fork stops halfway to my mouth. “I don’t know for sure, but I get the impression that she’s not. I know I’ve never met her, but for some reason, I feel akin to her.”

“Have you Googled her?” Emmalyn says sarcastically.

“No, I have not.” I roll my eyes at her like she does me.

“Well, why not. Maybe she’s pretty.” She smirks.

“Just eat your food.”

“You know, I’m okay if you wanted to date someone. I don’t like that you’re lonely.”

I put my fork down. “I’m not lonely. I have all of you.”

“She’s right, David. You need to start living again,” my mother says, pouring me some more sweet tea.

“If you’re referring to Shay, you seem to forget she lives in California.”

“You could invite her here, or better yet, you could go see her.” Emmalyn’s bouncing in her seat.

“I’m not going anywhere. This is our busy season. I did invite her here, but she’s so busy I doubt she will come. I need to focus on finding Wolfe’s sister. I don’t have time for someone else in my life. You, little miss, keep me busy enough.” I point at her.

She hangs her head. “It would be nice to have a mom.”

“You had a mom, who loved you very much.” I glare at her.

She drops her fork on her plate. “May I be excused?” She doesn’t look up.

“You haven’t finished your dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” She pouts, getting up from the table and leaves.

“She wants you to be happy,” my mom says, picking up Emmalyn’s plate.

“What makes her think I’m not happy? I’m happy. I just happen to miss my wife.” I gnash my teeth together and throw my napkin on the table, scooting my chair across the wood floor. I head to the desk where I left the note to Shay.

PS. I was wondering if you are married?

---

I rock the pen back and forth on the desk. I could try to Google her. I open up my laptop and type in Shay Fox. I scroll about midway down and find her company name. There are no pictures of her. Maybe she’s camera shy. There are several reviews written by artists, singing her praises, but not one photo.