"Don't worry. We're doing the right thing."

The setting faded in and out, Marion's face smiling at her daughter, and then the clap of lightning as the thunder roared.

"Hold on, Amy!"

"Mom!"

"Hold on, Amy!"

They were sliding, rubber on the wet dirt road, and then they were falling, spinning, rolling…

"Hold on…"

The thunder roared again and then she was five. She was watching her father at the rodeo as the crowd behind her took over the thunder's roaring. Lou was beside her, squeezing her hand tight enough to cut off circulation as Tim Fleming was trampled under the horse.

But the lightning struck brightly again, and Lou was screaming.

"Daddy!"

It changed again, standing on the porch clinging to Marion's hand as Tim closed the car door, pulling out of the drive.

"He never looked back," Mom always said… but Amy swore he did. Just once. Tears streaming down his face.

"I don't really remember much hugging back then…"

It changed one more time and Amy found herself in the sable beside Lou, Tim in front of them. He turned to leave, muttering: "I'm not that far out of reach these days. Just a couple of miles down the road…"

Amy snapped awake, gasping for breath.

Tears streaked her face, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand and snuggled back under the quilt, closing her eyes to go back to sleep. The fabric still smelled like Marion, having once been made by her own hands. That had been long ago, though.

It had been when Lou rode horses and tap danced. It had been when Mom had come in whenever her daughter had a nightmare. It had been when Gramma Lyndy had been there with hot chocolate whenever Amy couldn't sleep. When Dad would pick her up and swing her around.

But now Lou was detached, and Mom and Gramma Lindy were gone, and Dad…

"Just a couple of miles down the road…"

Amy pushed her covers away. She climbed out of bed and dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt. She zipped her boots up, put her phone in her pocket, and pulled on Mom's old sweater before quietly opening the door to her bedroom.

She imagined Grandpa bursting through his door, gun in hand, as she made her way down the hallway. The man slept insanely lightly, but there wasn't a noise. The sun was only just starting to rise.

Amy left through the front door and ran to the barn to saddle Spartan. She climbed onto him and took off down the road in the direction of the river.

"Hold on, Amy…"

Mom?

"Hold on, Honey…"

"Mom?"

Marion's voice was in the wind, following Amy everywhere she went. The tears started again, trailing down her face and dripping off her chin. She descended the ridge to cross the river before climbing the hill on the other side. Spartan's every motion was smooth, soothing most of the time, but she found no comfort in it, now.

Tim was there, as she'd hoped he'd be, on his horse watching the cattle. Amy remembered his early hour sleep schedule even when he was married to Mom. He'd always gotten up early, taking a nap sometime during the day to make up the sleep.

As she came over the top of the hill, she pulled the horse to a stop, not moving or speaking. Her face was still wet, the tears not wanting to stop their slow journey down her cheeks. She couldn't talk. She suddenly wondered what stupid notion in her mind had told her to go to Tim, of all people…

And then he turned.

"Amy?" His voice called worriedly. "Amy? What are you doing up this early? And here?"

He turned his horse and nudged it forward, walking toward his fifteen-year-old daughter. Amy didn't know what to reply. She hadn't gotten this far in her plans. She would get here and everything would be okay…

But Mom was still gone…

Something in her broke again, a sob wrenching its way out of her heart and leaving her gasping for breath. Tim's worried expression became even more concerned. In less than a moment, he'd galloped over to her and dismounted, grabbing the bridle of Spartan.

His hand carefully removed her foot from the stirrup and then gripped her thigh, pulling her to the side. She slipped out of the saddle and his arm around her waist brought her to the ground.

He still handled her as though she was five.

Amy settled with both feet on the ground, Tim grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"Amy, Honey. I need you to talk to me: Lou, Jack. Are they okay?"

She nodded, still overcome by tears. Tim visibly relaxed.

"Are you okay?"

"N-no… w-well, it's just… M-Mom…"

And then he understood.

One of his hands moved from its place on her shoulder and the other drew her in as his arm settled around her. He felt her forehead fall against his shoulder, the tears soaking through his blue button-up in seconds. Her hands grasped desperately at his back, her nails scratching him as her fingers tangled in the fabric and released it over and over again.

"Take a deep breath, Amy," he told her gently. "You're going to be alright. I promise. Dad's here."

She followed his directing, her lungs heaving as she drew in a deep, shuddering breath and released it, slumping against his chest. Harsh sobs tore their way out of her and left her trembling against his chest as he did the only thing he could, kissing the top of her head and tightening his embrace, holding her for the first time in over ten years.

The wind touched her hair, once blond. It was red, now, though. She had Marion in her blood, but she was visibly his daughter, too.

Ten years.

He'd missed ten years.

As carefully as he could, Tim gently lifted her and cradled her in his arms. Amy's arms slipped around his neck reminding him of a time long ago when he'd carried her to bed in this fashion.

He held her tightly, curled up against his chest, and swayed gently, shushing her. Her breathing slowly evened out, the tears slowing down as Amy nuzzled her face into her father's shoulder, tightening her arms around him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Honey," he told her. "Never. I'm never leaving you ever again. I promise."

Her eyelashes fluttered closed with exhaustion and she drew a deep, shuddering breath in and then went completely limp. Tim didn't move, his daughter curled up asleep in his arms like a newborn.

Her phone rang in her pocket and he hastily worked it out and flipped it open, noting "Grandpa" on the caller ID.

"Jack?" he murmured in a hushed tone.

"Tim?" Jack sounded surprised. "Why do you have Amy's phone? She's missing-"

"No, it's okay…" Tim jumped in. "She's here. I've got her."

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah…" he looked down at her. "Yeah… I think so."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Jack told him.

"Don't," Tim told him. "She just fell asleep. I'll take her back to my place. Bring her 'round a little later. She was pretty upset."

Jack breathing on the other line was the only thing that filled the silence, and then he said, "Alright, then. Thanks, Tim."

"Thank you, Jack."

He flipped the phone closed and paused for a moment, thinking. Amy whimpered in her sleep and he looked down at her quickly, ensuring she was still asleep. A small smile fell over his face and he gently placed a kiss in her hair.

"Hold on, Amy…" he whispered, his breath shifting her hair just a little. "Hold on, Honey…"