PART I

"This is your sister's last wish, Emily," Mrs. Roberta Green said to her youngest daughter while handing her a folded document filled with words that Emily ignored.

Roberta's voice boomed through the lushy living room, the other sounds that were usually heard at that time of the day seemed to have vanished to Emily's ears. No  vibrate red cardinal chirping, no footsteps from Sarah, the adorable woman who had helped with the house chores for years.

Emily's throat closed. As if it was under the pressure of an invisible force. The mention of her elder sister felt foreign and disturbing. Time did that. The past she'd ignored and the memories she'd put away to avoid any reference about Jane pushed through. Present and kicking in.

Jane was dead.

How was it even possible? How was it possible for Emily to feel affected about it? They haven't talked to in more than fifteen years. How was it possible Emily could miss Jane's  cheeky gaze while they stole a whole batch of homemade cookies, yet on the other side, she wasn't able to remember her voice?

"Take the letter, Emily."

She complied, her pale hand reached out and unfolded the letter.

It was typed. Impersonal and formal. Mostly directed to their parents. The last paragraph, though, read:

To my young and only sister, I leave my home and everything that comes with it.

I hope that, with time, you'll find the courage to forgive me and question the decisions we both made in the past.

You dealt with my absence and with our parents when you shouldn't have. You were too young and moldable. I hope this message comes to you in time. You have so many wonderful things ahead...

I will always love you, despite you probably believed otherwise.

Your sister,

Jane

Without noticing it, tears broke free, moistening the tight flesh on Emily's cheeks. She wiped them away with no hesitation, quite aware of how the sight of her crying disturbed her mother.

"How did she die?" Emily asked, her voice composed despite the shaking chills that rippled through her body.

"We called the executor. He didn't say much." Roberta paused. Her eyes eluded Emily's. "Only that she died at night, at home. A month ago."

A sting, like a knife twisting in an old wound, burned her chest. She was thirty-three years old, only five more than Emily.

"A month?" She repeated confused and looked down at the paper she held in her hands.  Then she looked to Roberta. The letter was written three weeks ago. "How long have you known?"

The accusatory tone didn't go unnoticed by her mother. Her brows puckered. "The same as you."

Emily's gaze diverted from hers , yet not exactly from embarrassment. She had reason to ask that question. After all, it wasn't the first time her mother used her "tricks" to deal with her. Over the years, Emily had ignored them but since Freddy broke their engagement off a bit more than a year ago, she was starting to notice.

Instead of confronting, Emily had recurred to conciliation. In her twenty eight years of life, defying her parents lead nowhere. That's why she had adopted an accepting attitude instead.

Or better, meekness; as her ex-fiancé would say.

Emily's head began throbbing.

"Your father booked a plane ticket for tomorrow."

"Why are you so determined that I go?" It was difficult for Emily to decipher the intentions beneath her mother's façade. Jane left them when she was barely nineteen years old to never come back; it bittered Roberta and Jack to the bones, it cracked their pride of perfect parenting. They couldn't tame Jane, so they focused on Emily. The younger one, the fixer. The daughter that would try to mend her broken family, despite it wasn't her responsibility.

"So you can get over it and move on with your life here. With your family, where you belong," Roberta declared lightly, stirring the green tea before her. "Your flight to Oregon leaves in the morning."

"Oregon?"

"She's lived there for the past nine years."

—x—

The conversation with Jack was an exact replica of the one between daughter and mother. With him, things flowed more naturally despite his strict nature and high standards when it came to "his only daughter," as he used to say. He expected her to come back to Charlotte in less than a couple of days, with renewed energy and ready to take over the family business.

"The remodeling project for the Coleman's starts in December. A week from today," he reminded her, reshuffling the papers on his glass desk and closing his notebook. The small, yet modern office they owned in Olde Whitehall was empty except for them. "Do you have the plans ready?"

Emily sighed, letting her slim body sink further into the chair. "Yes. Everything's ready. But, please stop blocking my schedule with clients I can't take."

"I thought you were well enough to come back," Jack tilted his head. His wrinkled gaze connected to his daughter's, searching for an answer in her amber eyes.

"I am. But don't push it." Emily responded, her patience vanished with every passing second. He was well informed about what the doctor had said. She'd made sure to explain him more than once: she had to adapt to the "new normal," which was quite different from the person Emily was a year ago.

The resolution in her voice caused Jack to blink in surprise. "I'll send you all the information. A car at your name will be waiting for you in Portland. Call me when you get there, okay?" he added softly as a sign of surrender; he then tousled Emily's still short hair and kissed the top of her head before leaving.

—x—

Late November's weather was the time when it swung in Oregon. Time of the drizzles, the brief moments where the sun peeked through the heavy clouds, giving people the chance to savor the last moments of sunshine before the days become brisker and darker.

Emily arrived to Portland International Airport with itchy eyes and tired muscles. Achieving sleep the previous night had been a struggle, invaded with the memories of Jane, with the things they never said and the regrets of the things she could have done but decided to postpone for her parents' sake.

She had boarded the plane mistakenly hoping to get some rest during the flight, but when it landed every inch of her body screamed for mercy.

She walked towards the exit area feeling her limbs heavier than ever, each movement was achieved with great effort.

I should have taken a sleeping pill last night, she admonished herself dragging her carry on through the crowded halls. The two hours flight was a poor compensation for what her body needed after the chemotherapy treatment she'd endured last spring.

As soon as she stepped out the the wintry exterior, a soothing breeze caressed her skin making Emily forget about the pain, the treatment and even about her parents, whose presence guided every decision she'd made.

She breathed in the cold air, letting it come in her body and, for the first time in years, she headed where the rental company was with expectations about the near future. About what she'll find out about Jane's life, about what she'd missed in the past fifteen years.

She would have the five long hours that lasted the car ride to Joseph, where Jane's house was, to let her mind wander through millions  of possibilities. What did Jane do with her life ? Did she live free, with no concerns, as she longed when she was only a teenager?

Emily smiled. Despite losing contact with Jane, she wished her sister accomplished everything she wanted. She hoped her takeoff was worth it.

Her curiosity didn't last long.

Much to her dismay, when she reached the square booth where the car rental was, she found out no driver had been hired for her. Only a Ford F-150. A truck. Joseph was more than 300 miles away.

"You can return the truck the same day your departure flight," the forty something woman from the rental company explained with a warm smile on her face. "Here's your keys. The GPS is set with the route."

"Thank you." Emily's enthusiasm diminished instantly. How was she supposed to endure a five hours drive on that monster truck when her body was screaming for a bed and a decent  night sleep? Her father should have taken that into account before "taking care of things."

Coursing between gritted teeth, she tossed her bag inside the back seat and, with the last ounce of strength she could muster, jumped in.

—x—

If it wasn't for her weariness that caused her fingers to tingle and eyes to feel heavy, Emily would have enjoyed the landscape that lead her deeper and deeper into the estate. She would have revealed in the rugged coastline that she discovered bordering Columbia river. She would have sighed at the sight of the parched fields that slowly turned into rolling hills. And probably, she would have gasped at the astonishing view of Wallowa snow-capped mountain range, flanked by a dense evergreen forest that seemed deep and daunting.

Finally, minutes before nightfall, her gaze noted that the fences that binded the fields at the side of the road became neater and more polished. It didn't take long to cross the small town of Joseph and leave behind the low, picturesque houses guarded by the mountains.

Emily had the GPS to thank for how easy Jane's house was to reach. Located in the west side of the town, the two floor wood-made cottage was built in a secluded glade, sheltered by different species of pines and spruces. Everything looked insignificant next to them, even the charming construction before Emily's eyes.

Despite the darkness had fallen, she took a glance at the house and distinguished the graceful lines of the walls, the weathered finished windows and the front door. A warm orangey light slipped through them.

No matter how little she remembered Jane and how little did she know her, Emily could recognize the flower bed beneath the windows and the lanterns along the gravel path were all Jane's touches.

Making an extra effort, she sauntered the trail that lead her to the front door. As she moved forward a relatively large dog appeared from the back of the house, making her halt. The mousy furred hound wagged its tail as he approached her, easing Emily about its threat. The animal walked with some difficulty, showing little interest in her before leaving her sight.  

Finally, once in the threshold, she knocked on the door.

Twice. And twice again. 

The silence magnified the sounds around her. The treetops whispered  against a gust of wind, the hoots made by a lonely owl.

She looked around, wondering if there was someone home. It seemed like it. The lights were on.

"Hello?" Emily called. She tried to catch a glance through the curtains of the tall rectangular windows that flanked the door.

All of a sudden, the wooden entrance swung open, freezing Emily in her place. A man stood on the other side, his serene gaze rested on hers.

"You must be Emily." He spoke as calm as he appeared to be; the sound of is voice, deep yet silky, was like the crash of waves against a rocky beach. Beneath the soothing surface, there was fervor, excitement.

"I am," she squeaked when she realized he was waiting for an answer. She squinted at him, hoping to discern his face with the backlight. With his peppered stubble and disheveled hair he didn't strike her as the executor who had contacted her parents. "Are you...?" She couldn't recall his name.

"Gabe." He offered a hand which Emily took with no hesitation. His gentle manners dissipated any trace of mistrust against this man. "Come in."

"Thank you." In all her years being initially timid with strangers, Emily was carefree about the fact that she had no idea who the man inviting her in was. The numb sensation drained her muscles, a sudden drowsiness took over her.

"Let me help you with that." He took her carry on and guided her in across the hallway towards the living room.

Wood logs burned in a slate covered fireplace, the flames curled and sway, flicking subtle shadows against a bourbon corduroy sofa and bookshelves.

"Please, make yourself at home," Gabe asked. "I'll leave this in your room. Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Maybe a beer?"

"A beer would be great, thank you." Emily knew she should restrain from drinking. Even though alcohol  and breast cancer recurrence was not proved, it was linked to other forms of cancer. It's only one drink, Emily. It's not that you have one every day, she said to herself.

Gabe disappeared upstairs and then swiftly went to another room, which she assumed was the kitchen; from where he returned with two bottles of beer.

"Here you go."

She gave him a courtesy nod and allowed herself to sink further on the couch. The mushy surface welcomed her instantly but she was far from relaxing. The identity of Gabe was still a mystery.

The grayish circles around his indigo gaze didn't come unnoticed. Neither did slouched shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met before. How did you know my sister?" The question was out there, unfiltered. But Emily didn't repress the impulse.

Gabe let out a strained breath and drank directly from the bottle, making a soft suction noise when he was done. "Jane and I were close- "

"Close and in husband and wife? Couple?" Learning such piece of information, brought Emily to the edge of nerves. Jane didn't mention anything about being in a relationship, let alone being married.

"I can assure you, it's not what you think," Gabe replied with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Emily's shorn eyebrows creased together. Who was the man who was hosting her and moving around the house like he owned it?

"I don't understand... How did you know who I was? And why did you have the keys to her house?" She didn't mean to sound accusatory, but he was providing answers in dribs and drabs and Emily was exhausted.

"We lived here. Together."

Emily's mind went blank. No matter how hard she tried, Gabe's words made little sense to her ears. So they had a relationship? Or it was simply platonic? It seemed strange, even the free-spirited Jane.

The lack of answers caused a squeezy sensation reach the pit of her stomach. 

"I see..." she croaked. A rippling pain reached her forehead, her eyes itched. The night was proving to be more awkward than she imagined.

"She told me she had no family left. So I became one after the diagnosis."

PART II

After the bomb Gabe dropped the previous night, Emily needed an entire sleeping pill to go through the night without losing her mind.

During their quiet breakfast the next morning, he gave her a handmade leather journal.

"It was Jane's," he explained before standing up and collecting her empty cup of green tea. "I'll come back tomorrow. You need some space. There's not much left from Emily in the house, only what you'll find in the chest box in my bedroom. Go through it, take whatever you need."

"Thank you," she managed to mumble, sensing the uneasiness growing inside her. What would she find in that journal?

He gave her a lopsided grin. He met her stare across the dining table. Looking further and through his brooding facade, Emily saw sprinkles of kindness in his attentive eyes. He didn't speak much, but neither did Emily. Gabe was, to her surprise, attentive. The night before he'd made dinner and refused to accept her help when she offered. His efforts to make her feel welcome were evident and because of that she was grateful.

How strange Jane had ended up with a sweet man like him. Gabe was, for what Emily had seen, quite different from the men her sister used to date. For a start he was around her sister's age. He was easy to approach, he even seemed kind and caring.

He turned around and walked out of the kitchen, where a small bag was waiting for him.

"So you were married?" She closed her eyes. Groaned. She suddenly realized that when he returned, things would be explained.

He halted on the threshold and spun to look at her. His height allowed him to walk through the door by only six inches. He ran a hand through his combed black hair which Emily noticed it curled by the ends.

"Yes." Was Gabe's reply. "But you should read her diary before we get to talk. I think everything will make a whole lotta sense if you do."

Emily held the diary tightly in her hands, not noticing her knuckles had turned white as paper. Reading Jane's handwriting resuscitated all the demons she'd killed during her sister's absence; and she wasn't ready to face them, not yet. It was too soon and her body was still listless despite the eleven hours sleep.

She blinked several times before putting Jane's diary down on the counter. The words she'd read belonged to one of the first entries of the journal. The frustration leaked from the lines like lava that corrode Emily's flesh second after second.

Reading the story from the complete opposite side, seemed like a novelty. Yet not precisely in a good-kind of way.

It embarrassed Emily.

She didn't remember things being like that. That was not the Jane she remembered. All she could recall was the vicious words she'd heard, the underestimation. Even the mockery.

She dwelled on the memory when Jane 'accidentally lost her' in Marshall Park on a Friday night so she could have some privacy with her boyfriend. Emily had just turned eleven; the experience was so dramatic that she still had goosebumps when she relived it in her head.

For her, it became obvious that Jane didn't want her around, and that moment changed their relationship for good.

All kinds of feelings pushed through the barriers she had built with great effort. She needed to unmask them in order to comprehend them; so she figured the answers could be in the box Gabe mentioned the previous day.

The room he occupied on the first floor seemed big enough for a single person. An ashy plaid duvet covered a double bed, which was guarded by night tables with their respective lamps. He had little possessions, except for the books that crammed on the shelves above the two-door walnut cupboard. On its surface, Emily's gaze found the chest box that Gabe mentioned.

Despite being inside a room that wasn't hers, Emily didn't feel like an intruder. There was something cozy inside that secluded part of the house.

Losing no time, she opened the wooden box.

Inside of it, plenty of photographs lied. Many of them were taken years ago, possibly stolen from one of their family albums.

"I thought you were glad you left Charlotte," Emily said out loud, a trace of sadness touching her words. Perhaps Jane was carried away when she wrote some of the words in her journal.

Almost hearing her heartbeats, Emily retrieved one of the photographs where Jane appeared carrying a five-year-old Emily piggy back on the beach. Jane's toothless smile made her grin. She'd lost both front teeth and looked like an old lady.

She then found a photograph of her eleventh birthday party. Emily remembered that day very well. It seemed like yesterday when her parents gave her the most expensive bicycle, adorned with pink laces hanging from the matching handlebars. She was exhilarated, squealing and jumping all over the place.

Jane... well, her excitement waned second after second. And the photograph caught that moment quite clear.

Her wavy ink-like hair fell partially on one side of her face, as she gaped at her younger sister blowing the candles.

Did Jane hate her that much? The answer to that question was on the journal that rested on the bed by her side.

The change of pace, smoother lines of Jane's handwriting revealed Emily was now reading the thoughts of a different person. The line of thinking seemed clearer, focused, even more mature; Emily was thirsty to keep learning about this strange woman that was her sister. In those words, she witnessed a passage of time in her sister's life. The scars that she tried to heal as the months went by.

Roberta called Emily through FaceTime that day.

Yet Emily wished she hadn't. Facing her mother after everything she'd discovered about Jane, seemed emotionally draining. Gabe, however, was there with a precooked meal and his soothing nature. It wasn't all bad news for Emily, after all.

"You were supposed to be on that plane today. How much longer are you staying in that forsaken place?" Roberta asked taking a glance at Emily's surroundings.

Thanks to her anticipatory nature, she  had put in her EarPods before the conversation begun. She knew too well that her mother spoke her mind, paying little attention to whoever was around.

"Whatever it's needed." Emily sighed and rolled her eyes, forgetting the camera was on.

"Don't give me that look, young girl," Roberta admonished her.

"Mum, stop it. I'm not 15 anymore," Emily snapped, she had never talked to her mother like that.

"Who is that man over there?" Ignoring Emily's outburst, Roberta asked.

"I'll explain when I get home." Speaking about Gabe in front of him would be impolite.

"You never struck me to be that kind of woman."

Emily's nostrils fluttered. That was enough conversation for one day. "I'll change my plane ticket. I'll let you know when I'm going home. Bye, mum." She hung up before Roberta could say anything else.

The video call left her exhausted, and it had lasted less than five minutes. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"Everything okay?" Gabe's voice came from her side, his dark blue gaze meeting hers.

"Yeah, that was my mother." She shifted on her seat, trying to hide the flush on her cheeks.

"Ah." He nodded, his brows arching in response. "Jane told me about her."

"What did she say?" Emily knew it already. She'd discovered a lot of Jane's thoughts in her journal, thoughts about their family and about her as well. Thoughts Gabe probably read.

He gave her an understanding look before sitting next to her. "Sometimes families are complicated. I'm sure her side of her story is as valid as yours."

Emily's throat closed,  effected by his words. No one had ever told her such thing. Not even Freddy, who had judged every single decision she'd made.

"That's very sweet of you," she croaked, swallowing her tears. Gabe's presence filled the void in  Jane's absence. It shouldn't though. She would be back at home;  that void would continue to torment her.

"You know -  when I was ten, my older brother asked me to shave his head," he spoke calmly, his expression serene while all his attention was focused on Emily. "My mum found out and grounded me for a month. Tim, my brother, didn't say he was the one asking me to do it. Still, he got a piece of her mind as well."

"That's how it's supposed to be." She knew what he meant. That she shouldn't feel guilty for the things she'd done in the past. However, after reading Jane's dairy, Emily understood the responsibility was shared. "Parents shouldn't take sides. My mum and dad did. It only made it worse."

"I agree with you."

A faint smile touched Emily's lips in signal of appreciation and, feeling slightly coy, she brushed the short strands of hair that fell over her forehead.

"Can I ask you something?" Gabe trailed cautiously. Emily nodded and noted his eyes moving across her features and hair. "How long has it been?"

Her heart stopped beating for a second. Or so it seemed. She gulped and wringed her fingers together.

"It-it was only last spring. How did you know?" Her therapist had done a great job empowering Emily. She  let her hair breathe free, but perhaps to stop using her wig was a bad idea after all.

"I read a lot about cancer recovery. But Jane didn't get as far as you did." Gabe's somber voice was all she could hear. His face was drained with the desolation of a man who'd lived a heart wrecking experience.

"She had cancer?" The air missed Emily's lungs. With every breath she took, the anguish reached higher and higher until it consumed her entirely, smothering Emily with sobs she couldn't control.

"I-I'm sorry." Gabe wrapped an arm around her shoulders to bring her close, his hefty body enveloped her in a tight hug.

She sunk into the warmth of his embrace, beholden the protective nature of this man. She heard him sniff and, in response, her hold tightened around him. Gabe had endured Jane's illness until the very end, he probably saw things that anyone would try to forget.

Slowly, their struggled breathing steadied, their embrace loosened and they broke apart.

"No one told me she was sick," Emily sniffed.

"She refused to receive any treatment." Gabe coughed. His head shook, frustration was evident in his voice. "She passed away here. With morphine. Her last day was very peaceful."

Emily caught sign of the way he spoke. Her last day. Only the last one. She knew the ending. She didn't want to know how the rest went.

"Thank you for taking care of her. I'm sure she loved you very much." She gave Gabe a soft squeeze to his hand. For the little she'd known Gabe, he seemed to be a kind hearted man. The kind of man she wished she had by her side instead of Freddy.

"I know she did.  Jane was one of the best friends I had." Gabe battled with words. A nervous hand ran through his disheveled chocolate hair. "She helped me out when I was in need, and I promised I'd do the same for her."

Emily didn't know how to respond. His behavior made little sense. 

"Jane and I were partners. We invested in this cottage..."

"I know. I read about it." Emily cut him, the anxiety amped with each pause he made.

"She asked me to marry her so the cottage project continues to exist."

PART III

Since the last conversation with Gabe, Emily's mind was restless. Instead of spending her time alone, finding comfort in her own bedroom, she took long strides along the property, bordered by a fresh creek that extended miles away and reached the deep Wallowa National Forest.

Despite the water running, the forest provided a numb silence that she cherished with all her heart. Solitude.  She wanted, especially after reading the last entries in Jane's diary.

The narrative became gloomier as she turned the pages. The mood overwhelming. Her sister's  last days  must have been a battle. A silent one. One  she'd chosen to fight by herself.

Emily wished she could understand it, that she could empathize with Jane's decisions, but she couldn't. Their stories had many similarities, but also many contradictions. It wasn't her place to judge Jane's life and dying choices. She'd lived her life as best as she could.  No one, not even their parents, could take that away from her.

The treetops whispered as the swung with the cold breeze that started to blow. The sun had given up on trying to break through the dense grey curtains of clouds above her head. The air smelled of wet soil and freshness. Joseph had a special charm, she could see it now. She could feel the nature with every sense, the experience was complete and utterly fulfilling. 

No wonder Jane had picked this  place to live.

Emily couldn't resist  the regret that  reached her guts. She strived to be the woman her conscience pushed her to be; the woman who could fill the void left by Jane, the woman who would carry the family name in the years to come. Coming to Joseph, though, sprouted a question in her head.

Why?

She'd done whatever was in her power to keep the family together, she'd endured a disease at her short twenty-eight-years-old. And yet, her conscience kept taunting her about  her failures, with the things she could have done but was too afraid to do.

Emily had pushed Jane away even before she was gone. Now she could see it. Not only she'd lost the chance to have a second shot,  she'd lost the opportunity to seize happiness when she could.

But it wasn't too late  to change the course of her life.

After everything she had been through, Emily realized. She'd was given a chance to find happiness.

"Emily?" A man's voice, which she soon recognized as Gabe's, called.

She spun around. He stood near, his cheeks glowing red, his breathing ragged.

"Hey."

"I was looking for you," he breathed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I needed some me-time," she excused, not missing the deep lines that appeared on his forehead. "I lost track of time. How long was it since I left the house?"

"Five hours." He came closer, his toned legs pushing through the pastures. "I thought you were lost."

Her head shook. "I followed the creek."

"That was smart." He nodded and then looked around for a moment. "I guess you read the diary."

"Uh-huh." Emily still tried  to process  what  Gabe's roll was in all of this. He obviously had one or he wouldn't be there bringing it up. Giving Jane's diary.

"Listen, I- " he hesitated for only a second before taking Emily's hand. He  guided her to sit on a timber bench with him. "I don't know how to say this, without you thinking, I want to trick you."

"Why don't you try?" She felt his raucous hand against hers and the honesty in his words.

"Our project - Jane and mine- was all we've got. We were friends,  I should have never married her. I don't know why I agreed. She could have easily written a will and left her part of the house to you." His voice was barely a whisper, soft; it held  affect like the air charged with electricity before a storm.

"I promise you, I'm not trying to cheat, Emily. Read the diary," he pleaded, releasing her hold before using it to comb his already messy hair. "It's all there. Just, please don't take it away from me."

"I won't." How could she? What right did she have? The house was not hers by mere luck. "But I have to ask you, what am I supposed to do with it? My parents expect me to go back home. And I don't have the economic resources to help you keep the cottage."

"I'm not asking you to. It's just... I wish it was simpler."

"I'm sorry you got caught in all this mess."

"I didn't 'get caught,' I came here voluntarily," he joked making Emily snigger.

"Even though you regret it now," she pointed out.  His expression mirrored hers.

"I regret marrying Jane, not being her friend and partner," he let out a deep breathe, his shoulders relaxed. "All I'm asking is: keep the house. It's yours. Jane wanted you to have it. And I mean you, not your parents." He searched for a signal in her gaze. He only found it shining, her eyebrows quivered. "You don't have to do anything, just let me run it."

Emily smiled. "I'd never take it away from you. It's yours."

Emily saw his features softening, the grin tugging the corner of his lips seemed so genuinely sweet that warmth unexpectedly rushed through her.

"I wish Jane tried to contact you because I'm sure you'd have forgiven her in a blink of an eye."

"We'll never know." She tried to dismiss his compliment, not to be affected by the way his eyes bore into her or his hand returning to her touch.

"Let's pretend we do."

—x—

The flight back to Charlotte didn't exhaust her as much as the one she'd taken a week ago.

Gabe drove her to Portland, taking a chance to talk with her during those long hours on the road . Those were his own words.

The short stay in Joseph turned out to be life changing experience; even more than cancer.

The truck she'd rented moved across road 84 as they left the bushy forests behind. The landscape became vast and greyish; the soil arid. She would miss the dusky greenery that started to kiss the borders of the trees back in Joseph.

"Do you like Charlotte?" Gabe's voice asked, stealing her attention.

"I lived there my whole life." She shrugged, unsure what to answer. She'd gotten used to seeing the rolling hills, the green lushy parks and the neat corners of the city.  Oregon though ... it exceeded her expectations in many aspects. "Joseph was really beautiful. No wonder Jane picked it as her home."

"Maybe you can come back," Gabe offered, directing a quick glance towards her. "There will always be a place for you in the cottage."

"I guess I could come back." As Emily felt her skin warming up, her stare glued to her folded hands on her lap. She liked Gabe. His gentleness didn't dwindle as the days  went by, quite on the contrary. The more time they spent together, the more comfortable she felt around him.

He was forward, but not in an invasive kind of way. He spoke his mind. His words  didn't distress her.

"I'll like that very much."

His hand held out for her and, without hesitation, she took it. Her skin tingle where they touched. She grinned at the new sensations that assaulted her body, at the persisting pumps of her heart. 

"Me too."