The day stretched long and quiet, the mountains wrapping the valley in their solemn arms. After breakfast dishes were cleared, nobody scattered like they usually did. They stayed close, lingering in the living room and out on the porch, the air thick with both sorrow and a strange kind of resolve.
Ryder sat on the porch swing, his hat pulled low, one arm draped over the backrest. Isobel settled beside him, her fingers twined with his, her head resting against his shoulder. He hadn’t said much since confessing to the family, but he hadn’t let go of her hand either.
It was Celeste who finally broke the hush. “Well, October’s comin’ quick.” She folded her hands in her lap, her eyes steady on her son. “And I reckon there’s a barn out back that’ll need clearin’ if it’s gonna hold a wedding.”
