Moonlit memories (#4 of the Miller Family series)

1.Welcome to Fairview

Meghan’s P.O.V.

As I drove into Fairview, the sight of the small town’s familiar welcome sign brought a soft ache to my chest.

"Welcome to Fairview: The Heart of Home" was written in neat, white lettering against a faded blue background, surrounded by wildflowers I remembered as a child. Back then, I had memorized the twisting country roads and every charmingly crooked fence that lined the town. Today, after years of being away, it felt almost surreal to see that not much had changed.

The trees seemed taller, the old diner had a fresh coat of paint, the general store on the corner had a new sign in the window and there was a new restaurant by the town square, but so much was still the same. I let out a breath, easing my grip on the wheel. I hadn’t realized I had been holding on so tightly, as if the sheer strength of my hands could pull me back here to stay. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was home.

Truly home.

The memories slipped in unbidden, like long-lost friends reclaiming their space in my mind. Running through these streets with my little brother, Body, racing the sunset until my mom's voice would call us home from the front porch. But the nostalgia was tinged with something bittersweet. Those last weeks in Fairview had been shadowed by Body’s illness, the way it crept into our lives, reshaping us around his doctors, tests, and treatments. Leaving Fairview had felt necessary at the time, an exodus in the name of healing, but as my family settled in the bustling city, I found myself drifting further away, as if I were a guest in my own life.

When Aunt Beth had called my mom, inviting me to return and help her with the bakery, it felt like a calling.

“Come help me in the bakery,” My aunt had told me over the phone,

“I could use the company, and you could use the fresh start.” Surely, I didn’t need to think twice.

Now, I drove slowly down Main Street, letting the gentle rhythm of Fairview lull me. The town was winding down from the day's rush, and as I passed the bakery, I saw Aunt Beth through the wide glass window, bending over a pan of cinnamon rolls. My heart lifted just seeing my aunt, older now but just as I had remembered, her salt-and-pepper hair tied back with a flour-dusted scarf, still as much a part of Fairview as the bell tower or the gazebo in the square. The thought that I would soon join my aunt in that bakery, breathing in the scent of fresh bread every morning, made my heart flutter. This life, this small-town rhythm, was one I craved without knowing just how much.

At the edge of town, I turned onto Willow Lane and followed it to the small townhouse I would be renting for now. It was modest, with green shutters and a white picket fence, half-hidden under a sprawling oak tree. I could see the front stoop, which sagged slightly under the weight of flower pots, and the curtained windows, softened by lace, hinted at the quaint, cozy rooms waiting for me inside.

I parked, the engine’s hum fading into silence, and stepped out of the car. The late afternoon sun hung low, painting everything in golden light, and a gentle breeze rustled the branches above. I closed my eyes and smiled, inhaling the crisp autumn air and realizing that I had made it.

I was back.

For good, this time.

I placed my hand on the fence, feeling the roughness of the wood under my palm. It was sturdy, solid. It was a small thing, but in this moment, it felt like an anchor, something real I could hold onto. I let myself imagine what it might be like to come home to this place every evening after a day spent in the bakery. To settle into a life of early mornings and late sunsets, to learn the names of the regulars who would stop by for their coffee and pastries, to eventually save enough to call a little piece of Fairview my own.

As I reached into the backseat for my suitcase, I glanced down the street. Kids were biking home for dinner, laughter trailing behind them like ribbons in the wind. A couple sat on their front porch swing, wrapped in a shared blanket, waving as I caught their eye. I smiled and waved back, marveling at the warmth in my chest. It had been so long since I felt that simple sense of belonging. Here, the loneliness that had settled on me in the city seemed to melt away, replaced by something softer, sweeter.

Carrying my bag up the front steps, I fished for the key in my pocket and opened the door. Inside, the air was still, but full of promise. The floors creaked under my steps, the furniture—a mix of Aunt Beth’s hand-me-downs and a few thrifted pieces—added a gentle charm to the space. I set my bag down in the middle of the room and looked around. The smallness, the quiet, the simplicity of it all—it felt like it was exactly what I had been waiting for.

I had just finished unpacking the last box when my phone rang, the familiar tune cutting through the quiet. I didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was. Smiling, I sank down on the couch, feeling my mom’s call like a warm hug from miles away.

“Mom,” I said, drawing out the word with a soft, happy sigh.

“Meghan! Oh, honey, did you get in OK? I was trying to wait until you called, but you know how your dad is—he kept asking every half hour if you’d made it yet.”

I could almost see my mom, standing by the kitchen counter, phone in one hand and her “world’s best mom” mug in the other, with my dad in the background pretending not to hover nearby.

“I made it just fine,” I said, letting my voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Tell Dad he can finally stop pacing now.”

My mom’s laugh came through, warm and familiar.

“Oh, he’s been banned to the living room while I make the call. But I’ll tell him! So, how does it feel to be back?”

“It’s… perfect,” I said, looking around the cozy little townhouse.

“I mean, it’s small, but it’s mine for now, and there’s this huge tree in front and flowers by the porch. And I can basically smell Aunt Beth’s bakery down the street. I feel like I’m home.”

There was a small pause before her mom’s voice came back, softened by a hint of wistfulness.

“I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. You always loved that place. I remember how hard it was to leave. Body was still so little back then…” Her voice trailed off, then picked up again, lighter.

“You were barely more than a kid yourself.”

“Barely a kid with very strong opinions about everything,” I agreed, laughing.

“Remember how I threw that absolute fit about having to leave?”

“Oh, I remember very clearly,” my mom replied with a chuckle.

“You moped in the backseat for hours, convinced that we were ruining your life.”

“Well, at sixteen, it did feel like my life was over,” I teased.

“But seriously, how’s Body doing? You guys didn’t give him too much of a hard time for basically being an only child now, right?”

“Oh, honey, he’s doing fine, out at that new tech job he’s been excited about. And I’ll have you know that he gave us an earful about making sure you call him too, which I highly recommend you do, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Mom, please, don’t worry. I’ll call Body. I don’t want him giving me an earful,” I said, rolling my eyes affectionately.

“Between you, Dad, and Body, I’ll be on the phone so often that Aunt Beth might start charging me rent for standing in her bakery using up her WiFi.”

My mom laughed.

“Well, in that case, we’ll all pitch in! Can’t have you getting evicted over a phone bill before you even settle in.”

My mom sighed,

“I miss you already. The house is too quiet without you here.”

“I miss you too, Mom.” I leaned my head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“It’s weird… I always thought I’d feel like I was abandoning you guys if I left, but now that I’m here, I just feel… right. I think I needed this.”

“Oh, honey,” mom said,

“I always knew you’d need to spread those wings eventually. You can’t live your whole life trying to make everyone else happy. And honestly, you deserve to make a life for yourself, one that’s really yours. And you know we’ll be here, cheering you on.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered, my voice a little shaky.

“And hey, you know, I’m not that far away. You and Dad should come up soon! Aunt Beth would love to see you again as well.”

“Oh, we’ll be there soon enough, especially during the holidays,” my mom promised, her voice brightening.

“Your dad’s already making plans, actually. He says you need ‘properly settled in,’ which is code for ‘snoop around and give his opinion on everything.’ But don’t worry, I’ll keep him under control.”

“I love you, Mom,” I said softly.

“Tell Dad I love him too. And Body—let him know I’ll call him before the end of the week, scout’s honor.”

My mom sighed happily.

“Love you too, honey. And don’t you worry, I’ll pass the message along. Just… take care of yourself, OK? And remember, there’s no rush. You have all the time in the world to figure things out.”

“I know, Mom,” I said, smiling.

“Thanks. I’ll be OK. I’m right where I want to be.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Bye.”

As I hung up, I felt the warmth of the conversation linger, settling into my new space, filling the townhouse with the faint echoes of my family’s voices. It was funny, really; I had come here to start something new, to claim a life of my own, but the love of my family had traveled right along with me, and for that, I felt blessed beyond words.