Page 73 of What Remains

"And Seth..." Josie's eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat before moving away. "He... he saved us."

Liz looked at Seth differently than, gratitude plain and unguarded in her expression. She stepped forward and held out her hand.

"Thank you."

Seth shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to⁠—"

"No." She squeezed his hand firmly, refusing to let him deflect. "I do. If it weren't for you..." Her voice cracked under the weight of the thought. "I would have been all alone."

Seth had no answer for that, so he simply nodded.

Liz drew a slow breath and glanced back toward the house, managing the ghost of a smile. "Come on. It's warmer inside."

The farmhouse smelled exactly as Josie remembered—wood smoke and coffee, old pine floors, and something baking in the back of the kitchen. Her chest tightened, and she had to stop in the doorway just to breathe.

"It still smells like home."

A faint smile touched Liz's lips. "I couldn't let that disappear."

The kitchen looked almost untouched by everything that had happened beyond its walls. The same oak table where they'd done homework as girls, the same faded curtains their mother had sewn by hand years ago, the cast-iron pans still hanging above the stove in their familiar row. Even the little ceramic cookie jar shaped like a chicken sat exactly where it always had.

Josie crossed the room and rested trembling fingers against it. "I broke this once."

Liz laughed softly. "You were ten. I remember Mama yelling for a solid hour. I must have been six, hiding under the table."

"Mom glued it back together."

"She said it had 'character' after that."

The sisters shared a brief, fragile smile before the silence crept back in.

"This place is incredible," Jay said, taking it in.

Liz glanced around the room she'd fought so hard to preserve. "It's still standing."

After everyone had warmed up with coffee and a quick meal of canned stew, Liz offered to show them around. "If we're going to have this many people here," she said, "you should know what we've got."

They pulled their coats back on and stepped outside, where the ranch stretched peacefully beneath the fresh snow.

"It isn't much," Liz admitted as they crossed toward the barn, "but it's enough."

She slid open the weathered door, and two horses immediately lifted their heads: a chestnut mare and an aging gray gelding.

Josie's eyes instantly filled with tears. "Daisy..."

The mare walked straight to her without hesitation, and Josie buried her face against the animal's warm neck. "I thought..." Her voice broke. "I thought I'd lost you too."

The mare huffed softly into her hair as if in answer.

"I almost let them go," Liz said, stroking the gray gelding's neck. "But I couldn't. They deserved better."

“You keep them safe all this time?"

Liz nodded. "They're old; But they're family."

She pointed toward the far paddock, where a handful of shaggy goats wandered through the snow, nibbling at hay she'd scattered earlier that morning. "The goats are still around too. They've actually done pretty well out here. Stubborn things."

A small laugh broke through Josie's tears. "Well, they were Mom's."