We walked back out into the bright sunlight and we all shielded our eyes. "Where did you live, Dad?" Jack asked.
"Come on, I'll show you."
We walked a little ways and got to the first worker cabin. Somehow they were even smaller than I remembered. "You lived in all these?" Jack asked.
I laughed. "No, just one. This way." Jack frowned.
"How could anyone live in just one of these? They aren't even as big as my room."
We got to the doorway of my cabin and I paused, taking a deep breath. Grief gripped my chest as I pushed the door open. Jack raced inside and through the two little rooms. "You lived here?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said quietly, my voice scratchy. I cleared my throat. Eden and Maya came in and Eden put her arms around me from behind and hugged me tightly while the kids explored. There wasn't much to look at, though.
I took Eden's hands in mine from the front and squeezed them. And as I looked around the cabin where I'd spent most of my life, what came swift and fierce into my gut was that I forgave them. The ache would last forever, but the bitterness wouldn't. They had made their choices and I was making mine. I let out a breath, and in that breath . . . it was gone.
"I love you," Eden murmured, laying her cheek on my back.
"I love you, too, Morning Glory."
Jack came walking back to us from the other room. "I'm glad life turned out better for you," he said, giving me a sympathetic look. I let out a surprised laugh and ran my hand over his dark hair.
"Yeah, me too, buddy."
We stepped out of the cabin. It was the very last time I ever would.
"Where did Uncle Xander live?" Jack asked.
I squinted behind us and pointed to another cabin a little ways away. "Over there." Xander had built Jack a treehouse in our backyard last year that was just about the same size as the cabin he grew up in. It was hard to believe. And now he owned a company that built large homes all over Cincinnati. My friend, my brother. I was ridiculously proud of him.
We all walked around the small cabin toward the trail. "A mama fwower," Maya said, pointing her little finger at the side of my old cabin. We all turned our heads and right there, growing up the side of the wood were morning glories, vining their way right to the top. Maya had recognized them as the same ones Eden always kept in water on our kitchen windowsill.
"Cool," Jack said, picking one off and handing it to Eden. She turned to me, her eyes wide and full of wonder, and I looked back over my shoulder toward the overgrown fields behind us.
When I squinted my eyes, I saw those deep blue flowers all throughout the weeds, leading right to the edge of the field. The seeds must have blown over to the cabins and now they were growing up the outside of a few. I sucked in a shocked breath. "It took over," I said very quietly, pulling Eden into my side, picturing the small plant I had nurtured so long ago, taking care of it so I could make a princess smile with its gifts.
As pretty as a flower . . . as strong as a weed.
We turned to see our little girl toddling away, following a trail of the morning glories up the edge of the field toward the main lodge.
Jack ran to catch up to Maya and took her hand so she wouldn't fall. As we walked behind them, Jack bent down to pick morning glories here and there until he held a bouquet of them in his hand.
Our feet slowed as we walked past the area that had once been the cellar. It was filled in now, just a large area of new, compacted soil. But the morning glories grew there, too. Eden took in a shaky breath and squeezed my hand. As the kids waited for us, throwing pebbles into a small puddle, we stood holding each other and letting the grief wash over us. This place was hallowed ground.
A very light rain started to fall, almost like tears, trailing slowly down our cheeks and nourishing the morning glories sprinkled across the ground.
After a minute, we were ready to move on. I took my wife's hand as the sky cleared.
We all walked to the grove of trees that stood in front of the entrance to the path that led down to our spring. Eden and I had talked about whether we'd make the steep descent with the kids or not, especially because Maya was so young, but right then, without speaking about it, we both seemed to agree we needed it. We made our way down slowly, me picking Maya up in spots that were extra steep. In my mind I was a seventeen-year-old boy, racing down the path, excitement and anticipation of seeing a beautiful girl lighting up my heart.
When we finally arrived at the first spring below, Jack let out an excited yell and Maya laughed.
"You think this is pretty," I said to Jack, "just wait until you see the other one."
"Other one?" he asked excitedly.
I smiled at him and Eden pointed to the opening in the rocks. All the brush had been moved aside, the first indication that others had been here.