Regret Came Too Late

Liam squatted down and studied the wooden plaque carefully. There was no doubt that this was Quentin's handwriting.

He had been one of the most favored children in the Lambert family, and Quentin had personally taught him how to write. Liam could recognize Quentin's lettering instantly.

He brushed some of the snow away from around the grave marker and called over his shoulder, "Dr. Coleman, this isn't someone from your family, right? Is it someone from mine? But why didn't my dad ever mention we have a relative buried out here?"

Wyatt's expression stiffened, his gaze darting away. "Liam, come on. Snow's picking up again. If we don't get moving, the path up the mountain will be impossible."

But Liam wasn't ready to let it go. He leaned in, squinting at the smaller lettering near the bottom of the plaque, until Wyatt suddenly tugged him upright by the basket strap on his back.

"That's enough. Quentin never mentioned this person to you, so clearly, they weren't important. Let's go," Wyatt insisted.

Still unsure, Liam got to his feet and followed Wyatt up the snowy trail.

The storm had picked up. By the time they reached the herbs, they'd been hiking for over an hour.

On the way back down, Liam sniffled and rubbed his nose. "Dr. Coleman, can you tell me more about my dad? I only know bits and pieces-he started running a street stall and worked his way up. Did he do anything big around here?"

he spoke. "Quentin was a good man. Everyone here liked him. These roads? He built most of them himself. When your sister Grace was very sick, he cleared and rebuilt dozens of paths-hoping that he could earn some kind of blessing by doing

lot as a kid. He barely saw her. She was always in

miracle she'd

began processing the herbs, a task that took the

dark. He

him. "The snow's gotten heavier. It's better to stay the night and leave first thing. If your car gets stuck out there, there's no one to

And hey, earlier you mentioned Grace was really sick as a kid... I remember she and Dad coming to Bensville and

came to me when he was out of options. The hospital had already issued a critical notice-he was desperate,

real? The hospitals couldn't help,

looked uncomfortable. "Don't be silly," he muttered, turning away to

it. Instead, he helped set

guest room. The snow had stopped, but the mountain

middle of the night, Wyatt stirred.

In the distance, by the mound covered by daisies, someone

heart skipped