I sigh heavily, dropping the bags on either side of myself as I trudge toward the well. “Yeah. My mom and I used to toss coins down there and make wishes.” I peer down into the black hole, feeling kindred with it somehow. Empty. Echoey.

“Grandma?” Luke knows all about his grandma Isabelle, even though he never got to meet her.

“Yeah. She named this ranch after the well. When they bought the land Grandpa told her she could name it whatever she wanted.”

“What would you wish for?” He peeks in again, and I put a hand on his shoulder. Watching him lean over the edge gives me full-blown anxiety.

I scrub at my beard with the opposite hand, racking my brain. I can’t remember. That part of my life feels like a lifetime ago. Like another life altogether. “Probably candy.”

Luke’s head bobs in approval. “Smart. Did your wishes come true?”

My lips quirk at that. He never fails to lift my spirits. Knowing my mom, I’m sure a bunch of our wishes did come true. “Usually.”

“Do you have any coins? I want to make a wish.”

Weight lands in my stomach and my lungs constrict. Such a simple request, and yet it feels intensely meaningful. I’m doing with my little boy what my mom once did with me.

I pull my wallet out wordlessly, unzipping the small coin pouch.

“Does it matter what kind of coin?”

“No, bud.” I press a silver coin into his hand but pause as I’m about to put the leather wallet away. With a little shake of my head, I take one more coin out.

One for myself.

“Okay,” I start, swallowing the uncharacteristic thickness in my throat. “On three. Close your eyes.”

Luke’s eyes clamp shut, and a hint of steel flashes on his face. He’s focusing very hard. Taking this very seriously.

I ruffle his hair once, reminding me of silky, coppery strands as I do, and then I close my eyes. “One . . . two . . . three . . .”

The sound of our coins plunking into the water below mingles with the sound of wind chimes on the back porch.

Eyes shut, I wish for Willa.

A life with her.

A family with her.

Gray hair and more laughter with her.

When I open my eyes, Luke is staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” I ask him, needing something lighthearted. Thinking it will be something ridiculous. Something frivolous.

Instead, he delivers a gut punch.

One soft cheek hitches up, and he glances back down into the dark well. “I wished for Willa to come back.”

My eyes burn when I pull him into me, feel his tiny arms clutching at my waist.

And my voice cracks when I say, “Me too, pal. Me too.”

35

Willa

Willa: How is Cade?

Summer: Full hermit-mode. Back to hating everyone. Please come fix him.

Willa: I’m on my way.

* * *