26. Alana
ALANA
W e drive past the main street of Hope, past Amos's apartment, past the elementary school, and we keep going past streets of houses until we come to an old neighborhood on the edge of town. The houses here loom in the darkness, three storied mansions on large sections of land.
Some are lit up but others are dark, with overgrown grass and windows boarded up. Remnants of a more prosperous time.
Amos parks in front of a large house at the top of a steep street that's completely dark.
Orange light from a streetlamp illuminates a rusty fence that borders the property, but the grass is recently mowed to perfection.
Fresh dirt shows where weeds have been pulled up between the paving stones as I follow Amos to the front door.
"Does someone you know live here?" I whisper, although I'm not sure why I'm whispering. Maybe because it's dark, and it feels like we're going into a haunted mansion.
"Not yet," Amos says.
He takes my hand and I follow him up the steps to the porch, avoiding one that has a rotten plank missing. A security light comes on, bathing the place in a warm glow. The porch has been recently swept, like someone's made an effort to tidy it up, despite the missing boards and threadbare door mat.
I expect Amos to ring the bell, but instead he takes out a key. It catches in the rusty lock, and he has to wiggle it before it opens.
"It needs a few repairs," he says, which is an understatement.
When the door creaks open, I'm met with a long narrow hallway that branches off to a staircase on one side and doorways on the other. I expected the interior to be old, like a lot of these old houses are, with fifties decor still in place. But the place is completely stripped.
"Amos, what is this place?"
A smile plays on his lips, but he doesn't answer my question. "Let me show you around."
Bare floorboards creak as we walk over them. The first room he takes me in has an old-fashioned fireplace against one wall. The grate looks like it hasn't been used for decades. But the room is big. There's no furniture in any of it, but I can imagine a family living here.
Next is a large room that joins the kitchen. "The dining room," Amos says, moving his hand expansively. "Room for a large table or two."
The kitchen has a huge eight burner stove top that looks to be in surprisingly good condition and a huge wooden kitchen island.
Upstairs the rooms are smaller and there are a lot of them. Four rooms that could be bedrooms on the first floor and a shared bathroom. Upstairs is the same, but one room is bigger than the others and has a private bathroom adjoining it.
"What was this place?" I ask. "There are a lot of rooms."
Amos smiles mysteriously. "It was a boarding house once."
We're in the main bedroom, and he opens a sliding door that leads to a small balcony. Up here on the third floor, I get a view of the back yard. It's big with a wooden fence enclosing it and a wooded area beyond the fence.
I stop on the balcony and turn to Amos. He's grinning broadly, and I voice my suspicions. "Is this yours, Amos?"
His smile broadens. "No. It's ours."
I frown, not understanding what he means. He can't have bought us a house. "Ours?" I say dumbly.
"I saved most of my money when I was in the military. It was enough for a deposit. It needs a lot of work." He gestures to the plain walls and lack of furniture. "But the boys will help, and we'll make this into a home. For us."
I stare at him as realization dawns. "You want me to move in here with you?"
He takes a step toward me and places his hands on my shoulders. I shiver at the contact, not realizing how much I've missed his touch.
"I never gave up on you, Alana. You had to put Kyra first and I respect that, but now we can be together as a family if that's what you want."
I gesture to the house. "But all this . . . it's so big. So many rooms."
He slides a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.
"That's for all the kids who need somewhere to live.
Before I met you, Alana, I had no idea of the need out there.
There's room here for us to become foster parents or however you want to play it.
We can take in emergency kids or take some in permanently.
We can adopt more kids or have our own. If we put bunk beds in each room and three beds in the bigger rooms, then there's room to take in plenty.
Hell, I'll build more rooms in the garden if that's what you want.
You might not be able to help every kid, Alana, but together we can help many. "
Tears sting my eyes as emotion wells up inside of me. "You bought this place to take in foster kids?"
"No," he says. "I bought this place for you. And whatever you want to do, I'm with you. If you'll have me."
He slides down on one knee and takes a small box out of his pocket.
My heart leaps into my throat. "Amos." I gasp his name as I realize what he's about to do.
"I couldn't have gotten through the last six months without you, Alana.
Since the night we spent together, I knew you were the only women for me.
I've been patient, I've waited for you, but I don't want to wait another moment.
I want to join our families together and start our lives together. Will you marry me?"
I clasp my hands over my mouth as emotion swirls inside me. It's all so sudden, and yet, so right. The last six months, keeping Amos at a distance, have been agony, but I did it for Kyra. Maybe it's time to do something for myself.
"Even if you say no, I'm gifting this place to you," Amos says.
"So don't say yes for the house. Say yes because you feel the same way I do.
Say yes because you need me the way I need you.
Because being apart for even one more day will destroy me.
Say yes because it's the only answer you could possible give. "
I look into his eyes, so open and full of love, and there's only one answer to this question.
"Yes. Yes, yes! I'll marry you, Amos. With or without the house."
He slides the ring on my finger and then his arms are around me, lifting me off the floor.
I'm laughing and he's laughing, and as he spins me around, I feel a release I didn't know I needed.
For so many years I've been putting the kids first. And it feels good to make a decision because it's what I want.
Tears course down my cheeks, and when Amos sets me down his face drops in dismay.
"I didn't mean to make you cry." He wipes his thumbs across my cheeks, wiping the tears away.
"They're happy tears. I can't believe you did this. This house is perfect."
He barks out a laugh. "I'd hardly call the crumbling walls and creaky floorboards perfect."
"Those things can be fixed."
He keeps his arms around my waist and I lean against them to look back at him, my fiancé. "This is the most thoughtful gesture that anyone could make. But it won't be easy."
"I know." He nods. "But we'll work through it."
He kisses my tears away and with his warm breath on my cheek, a new sensation grips my body. It's been six months since I slept with Amos, and now every move he makes has my body waking up to his touch.
He must feel the same, because he gives me a hooded look and his lips brush mine. I lean in for more, but he pulls away.
"Come on." He slides my hand into his and pulls me toward the door. "I haven't shown you the best bit yet."