Until it came back, and that was that.
Oh, she’d fought hard, and it had been enough . . . the first time.
The second time the cancer had advanced too quickly, and her mother was already weakened by the first battle.
Bridget still missed her every day. Yes, she tried to stay busy so she wouldn’t need to think about how much she missed her mom, but she had so many memories, and there were so many stimuli to trigger them.
That last box of hers was where she tried to keep them stashed away. Notable among the contents were her baby blanket, her mother’s engagement ring, and—of course—the scrapbook she and her friends had prepared on the day of the funeral. It gave Bridget comfort to know that the mementos were all nearby but also safely contained.
Her dogs went nuts again, drawing her away from her idle longing. She peered through the window and spotted the man with the huskies returning. The dogs were gorgeous, one black and white and one all white—probably not a husky at all, now that she thought about it. The man had white blond hair and very pale skin despite the fact he obviously spent time outdoors. Probably took a standing bath in sunscreen before heading outside, she thought with a sad smile.
Bridget herself had never had that problem. She was part Inuit on her father’s side, so her skin turned an alluring shade of light brown after mere minutes in the sun. She often joked that she had two looks—goth girl in the winter, and proud native in the summer. Her dark hair and eyes never varied, but her skin could change so much from season to season that she had quickly given up on trying to wear makeup. Better to have tired eyes than a face covered in the wrong color and sporting a clear line of demarcation at her jaw.
Man and dogs disappeared into one of the side stairwells, and Bridget scooped Teddy into her arms to calm him down. Otherwise the Pomeranian could easily bark for another ten minutes from the pure excitement of spotting another dog.
Jeez. Just how long had she been standing there hesitating over that box?
The sun still hung high in the sky, but that meant nothing this time of year. With the solstice approaching, it wouldn’t sink behind the horizon until around ten that night, which meant she’d be up until at least then herself.
Even though she’d been born and raised in Anchorage, Bridget had never learned to sleep with the sun up. Despite the best sleep mask and blackout curtains her meager budget could buy, her body somehow still knew it wasn’t yet time. That was why she had to keep busy.
Her body was too smart, and so was her heart.
In calm moments like this, both cried out to her, demanding the things they most craved.
Feed me mint chocolate chip ice cream, her body demanded.
Open the box, cried her heart.
And this was the exact reason she carried a little extra weight around her hips and thighs. When given the choice, she always went with the thing that would make her sigh with pleasure rather than sob in agony.
Okay, enough fretting over the box already.
Bridget set Teddy on the carpet, then sent a group text to her friends: I’m all moved in. Come over and check the new place out.
She paused, then added: Oh, and please bring ice cream.
As their excited replies began to pour in, Bridget grabbed the box filled with her memories and buried it in the back of her closet. She pushed the hangers with her maxi dresses over it to add some coverage and then covered it with a stack of folded blankets for good measure.
She knew it wouldn’t be enough to forget the box’s presence, but it was enough to get her head back on straight so that she could focus on all the exciting things that came with her move—like new walking paths for her and the dogs, new neighbors, and maybe even new friends.
MELISSA STORM is a USA Today bestselling author of various romance and inspirational series. She loves books so much, she married fellow author Falcon Storm. Between the two of them, there are always plenty of imaginative, awe-inspiring stories to share. Melissa and Falcon also run a number of book-related businesses together, including LitRing, Sweet Promise Press, Novel Publicity, Your Author Engine, and the Author Site. When she’s not reading, writing, or child rearing, Melissa spends time relaxing at home in the company of a seemingly unending quantity of dogs and a rescue cat named Schrödinger. Melissa maintains active memberships in Romance Writers of America (RWA), American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), Novelists, Inc. (NINC), and the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi). Visit her online at www.melstorm.com.
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