EPILOGUE
Abby
A few months later…
I’d planned it out all week—the small pot tucked away in the corner of the apple shed and the words I’d practiced in front of the mirror. How did you make an announcement like this without simply blurting it out?
The orchard was quiet except for the occasional sound of two branches rubbing together and the soft rustle of leaves. I found Trent exactly where I wanted him—under the old tree, hands on his hips, sun on his shoulders.
He turned when he heard me and gave me that look—the one that made my stomach go traitor-hot. “You’re up to something,” he said, watching me approach. “I know that look.”
“What look?” I answered, innocent as I could sound. Which is to say not innocent at all. I was bubbling with the secret, vibrating with the kind of excitement I hadn’t felt since I was a kid and hid a new kitten in my jacket.
“That look that means you’re about to turn my life upside down,” he said, grinning. “The same look you had when you showed up here demanding to help with the field trip.”
“I have a present for you.”
“It’s not my birthday,” he said, amused.
“It’s not that kind of present,” I said, suddenly nervous. “More of a… future investment.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Future investment?”
Instead of answering, I took the pot from behind my back and stepped forward. The sapling was small—barely a foot tall, thin trunk, leaves catching the morning like tiny green flags. Up close it looked fragile but full of possibility, like a promise in a paper cup.
“I want to plant a tree,” I said. “Our tree. Right here, next to this one.”
“Abby,” he said slowly. “We just planted over fifty new trees. Why do you want to plant another one.”
“Because this one is special.” My voice went soft and steady. “This one represents something new. Something that’s going to grow and become part of our life. Of our legacy.”
I had rehearsed the words until they felt wearable. Saying them now made something in me tremble with fear and a different kind of strength.
He looked down at me—really looked—and for a moment I saw the man behind all the gruff. The tired lines smoothed out, the stubborn set of his jaw relaxed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Apple trees take about eight years to bear fruit, right?”
“Right.”
“Do you know how long it take to grow babies, Mr. Lawson?”
“Babies?” he said, and it came out like hope and fear tangled together.
I nodded. My eyes were wet before I meant them to be. “I’m pregnant, Trent. We’re going to have a baby.”
He took the pot from my hands and set it carefully on the grass. For a beat he did nothing but stare—the world rearranging behind his eyes. Then, sudden and fierce, he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing at all, spun me around, and laughed in a way that made me cry harder with relief and joy.
“You’re pregnant,” he breathed when he set me down. “We’re having a baby.”
“We’re having a baby,” I nodded.
He kissed me then—slow and full. His hands tangled in my hair the way they always did when he wanted me and was terrified he’d asked for too much. “How long have you known?”
“Three days,” I admitted. “I wanted to figure out the perfect way to tell you. I wanted it to feel like—like hope.”
He kissed me again. “Come on. Let’s plant our tree.
” We chose a place close to the older apple tree, but not too close.
He dug with that stubborn, patient focus that made my heart flip.
I helped where I could, tamping the dirt around the roots, whispering silly things to the sapling like it was already family.
“You know,” he said as he smoothed the last clump of earth, “this kid is going to be spoiled rotten. Between you and me and Martha and every kid in your class who wants to be their honorary big sibling…”
I smiled again, but I couldn’t help it. “They’ll be loved.”
He pulled me against his side, and we both looked at what we’d planted. He kissed the top of my head. “They’re going to love it here,” he said. “Just like their mother does.”
“She certainly does.” He grinned crooked, then sobered and looked at me like he was memorizing the shape of me. “I’ll be there to catch them when they fall,” he said softly. “Just like I’ll always be here to catch you. And thank you.”
“For what?” I asked, though I already knew.
“For giving me a family. For choosing this place. For falling into my stupid life and making it worth the trouble.”
I turned in his arms and kissed him, the kind of kiss that says yes to everything—hardship, joy, sleepless nights, all of it. “Best accident I ever had,” I whispered.
We stood there a long time, watching our tiny tree sway.
Our baby would climb these trees, fall out of them, and be caught.
They would smell of apples, know the feel of soil under their fingernails, the sound of wind through the trees.
They would learn to work, to fail, and to love everything they’d been given.
Mostly, they would know they were wanted. Completely. Unconditionally.
Today, we hadn’t just planted another apple tree. We had planted a beginning.
Here’s a little something extra!
Cider Kissed by the Mountain Man BONUS SCENE