31. Epilogue
Epilogue
Derek Two Years Later
I never thought the anniversary of Chelsea's death would ever feel like a positive day or that there would be any joy to be had but leave it to fate to prove me wrong yet again.
Faith holds both pink and blue roses in her hands as we walk hand in hand over snow-covered headstones to tell Chelsea the good news.
"Ugh," Faith says when she pulls at her white puffer jacket.
"What?" I ask.
"I look like a giant marshmallow in this thing, and I'm just starting to show it," she explains.
"You're wrong," I say proudly. "You look beautiful."
"I keep waiting for this glow to show up."
"You are glowing, though."
"Yeah, I glow with sweat once I'm done throwing up every morning. And whoever called it morning sickness has to be a man because that shit lasts all day," she insists.
"Agreed," I nod, knowing it's best to agree with her when she goes off on a pregnancy symptom tangent.
When we get to Chelsea's grave, I take my hand and wipe away the snow, bringing her headstone to its former glory so Faith can carefully lean down and lay the flowers down.
"Can you guess our big news, Chelsea?" Faith asks, a smile beaming on her beautiful face.
"She wants to know if it's a boy or girl," I say, pointing to Faith like I'm tattling on her. "But I want to be surprised, so she can't say it out loud."
"I still don't how you wouldn't want to know!" Faith says. "The minute the doctor told me, I knew Chelsea had something to do with it, which is why I don't need to say it aloud."
"With what, you getting pregnant? That's funny because I thought I was the only other person there," I laugh.
"She has to have had something to do with it," Faith grins. "I mean, why else would the baby's due date be her birthday?"
I'm not the biggest believer in all of what happens after we die, but after nearly losing Faith to a psycho stalker, I'm gradually changing my tune. It was quite a coincidence when the doctor estimated the baby's due date, one that I couldn't explain away. After losing Chelsea, I never imagined myself loving someone as much, if not more than her as I do with Faith.
"I think he's going to be a great dad," Faith says to Chelsea's headstone. But when she looks back up at me, her smile is replaced with concern when she sees the worry written all over me.
"What's wrong?" she asks, taking my hand in hers.
"I'm a little scared," I admit, kissing her forehead.
"Why?"
"I'm worried that I won't… that I won't love the baby as much as I love you. I love you so much that I don't want the baby to get shortchanged, you know?"
Faith smiles and shakes her head. "That's not going to happen. I was asking a co-worker about that same thing."
"Yeah? And what's the verdict?"
"Love isn't quantifiable. It doesn't run out," she says like it's the simplest fact in the world. "You don't run out of love. Your heart just gets bigger."
"Is that the case?" I ask, my heart feeling a bit lighter from the guilt I've been feeling.
"That's been the majority verdict amongst my co-workers with kids," she nods. "The love never runs out, so that's one less thing you have to worry about."
"It never runs out?"
"Nope, and it never goes away. It'll never leave," she insists. "Can you live with that?"
The thought of a love that never fades lifts every ounce of fear and guilt from my heart, especially when I see the peace in my wife's eyes. When I promised her forever, I knew it wouldn't be long enough, but knowing there's more love on the way makes up for it.
I lean in and kiss her lips, inhaling the scent of fresh snow and warm vanilla perfume, grounding me in this perfect moment—a moment I want to hold onto forever, along with the lesson I didn't know I needed.
A love that never leaves. Count me in, I think to myself.
"Absolutely," I whisper, sealing the promise with another kiss.
***
On the way home, my phone buzzed with a notification from the front door camera. Faith, who was driving, glanced over and saw it was a FedEx delivery. "They placed the package between our front doors. I wonder what it is?" she mused aloud.
We made a quick stop to grab some coffee for my pregnant momma, and soon, we were pulling into the driveway. As we passed by, I noticed a dark SUV parked a few houses down. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to see if anyone was inside. Before getting out, I swept the cameras around the house to ease my mind, but as we drove past that SUV, flashbacks hit me hard.
Once inside, I grabbed the envelope from the hallway table. Helping Faith out of her coat, I felt an undeniable urge to warm her up the old-fashioned way. Backing her against the wall, I slid her sweater over her head as she kicked off her boots. "You look like you need to be warmed up from the inside out," I whispered in her ear, trailing kisses down her neck, savoring the light moans escaping her lips.
"I do. I love it when you warm me up," she breathed out, arching her back and threading her fingers through my hair, guiding my mouth to her taut nipples. We locked lips in a passionate kiss that sent a surge of desire through me. Our pants found their way off, discarded in the hallway as I walked her back toward our oversized couch. Her breasts, now freed from her bra, sat higher, tighter, and more tempting.
"Sit down, sit back, and pull your knees to your chin," I instructed, my eyes never leaving hers. She obeyed, her legs out in front of her, and before sitting back, she quickly took me into her mouth. The way she worked her tongue made my insides swirl with pleasure, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and lust. I pulled back, insisting, "You first." But Faith was relentless, grabbing my hands to hold her breasts as she slid my erection between them. "Is this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice dripping with seduction.
Gently, I lifted her chin, rubbing her lower lip with my thumb. "It's one of many; lay back now," I murmured. Her long curls cascaded behind her as she dropped her legs apart, and I fell to my knees, my fingers teasing her. She arched her back, moaning in anticipation. "Will it be one, two, or three today?" I teased, sliding one finger in, then two, stopping just before three, knowing it wasn't her favorite. I took a moment to admire her—her curvy, thick body, the swell of her belly, and how wet she was for me.
"What's wrong? Why did you stop? Don't stop," she pleaded, trying to pull my hand away and motioning for me to climb on top of her. "Fuck me now!" Her voice was music to my ears, a symphony of need.
Just as I was about to give in, a loud knock at the door and the doorbell ringing broke the moment. "No, no, no, do not answer that," Faith groaned, frustrated as the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, I pulled out when I heard a woman's voice from the other side of the door, insisting we open up right now. I tapped my watch and responded through the doorbell, "We'll be right there," in the most annoyed tone possible.
Faith dashed to the bedroom to put on clothes, and I followed suit. Both of us laughed, though clearly annoyed. "We are not done yet, babe," I promised her.
"You promise?"
"Not even close to being done; I promise we will finish later."
Back in the living room, Faith grabbed the envelope and settled onto the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, while I answered the door. To my surprise, my former client, Mrs. Sampson, was standing on the porch. "Well, are you going to invite me in, Derek? It's a bit cold out here," she said.
"I apologize, Mrs. Sampson; please, come in," I said, my mind racing with concern and questions. How did you find my house? "Wally told me where to find you and your new wife. I wanted to follow up on the letter I sent you, and FedEx showed it was delivered today. I had one of my men watching your home until you arrived so I could speak to you personally; the guilt I have for sending a letter was eating at me." She paused, looking at us both. "I do apologize for interrupting your afternoon, but this was very important, and I wanted to be with you both to digest this."
"I'm not sure what the letter says, I haven't read it yet," I confessed, leading her to the living room. Faith sat cradled in the corner of the couch, reading the letter. Tears streamed down her face.
"Faith, dear, let me explain how this happened," Mrs. Sampson said softly, sitting down next to her, gently rubbing her leg.
"What is going on? Why is my wife crying? Can I see the letter, please?" I asked, my heart pounding.
As I read the letter, my eyes widened, and my throat went dry.
My dearest Derek and Faith,
My heart is hurting as a mother, but I feel obligated to inform both of you that my son, Gregory Sampson, and your acquaintance, Ryan Wilson, are now deceased. A freak accident affected multiple lives on the day they both left this earth, causing immense heartache and imbalance in the lives of their families.
However, I felt obligated to personally deliver this information to you so that you can both find peace in your hearts and move on. I have enclosed a copy of the death certificates for verification.
Sincerely, A broken-hearted mother,
Mrs. Sampson
The letter slipped from my fingers as I stared at Faith in disbelief before turning back to Mrs. Sampson. "How...how did these two even connect? Was it a fight in prison? Did Ryan escape, and no one informed us?" I blurted out, the words tumbling out faster than I could process them.
"Derek, dear, please sit down," she said, patting the couch beside her. I took a seat on the L-shaped part, facing her.
"After you took a leave of absence from the field, Gregory checked himself out of rehab yet again. This time, he stayed states away from me; he would call randomly asking for money but never disclose his true location. I believe he was just living on the road, maybe town to town?" Mrs. Sampson explained, her voice trembling with the weight of her memories.
"It turns out that Ryan was being transferred to another prison to carry out his sentence. However, the SUV he was traveling in was speeding, as was the truck Gregory was driving." Tears welled in her eyes as she continued, her voice breaking. "Gregory was drunk, really drunk. There were open bottles in the car. He hit the SUV, killing Ryan on impact as he was sitting on the passenger side in the back. The others survived with broken bones and hospital stays, but Ryan and Greg died on impact."
I reached out, gently taking Mrs. Sampson's hand. "I'm sorry that you lost your son. Regardless of his past or the demons he was fighting, he was your son, and you have the right to grieve as a mother."
"So, let me get this straight, your son, who killed our Chelsea, and Ryan, who tried to kill us, are both gone—gone as in dead?" Faith asked, her voice heavy with a mix of relief and sadness for Mrs. Sampson, who was grieving the loss of her son.
"Ryan's parents are deceased, and he had no siblings," Faith mumbled, still trying to process the information.
"My visit today was to make sure you understood that the two people who hurt you both so terribly can no longer do it again. You are pregnant, and I didn't want this stress on you. Mom to mom, you need to be as unstressed as possible," Mrs. Sampson said, her eyes filled with sorrow and guilt.
"When I got word of the accident, I wanted to know who was involved so I could personally apologize to the family. My heart sank when I saw that Ryan had charges against him for attempted murder against both of you. I felt obligated to let you know right away that you do not have to worry about that man being put on parole or escaping prison. As harsh as that may sound, your mental health is just as important. I know what it feels like to have people watching your every move and wanting to hurt you. I don't want that for you." Her words were heartfelt, yet they stirred a deep anger in me. Anger that her only son couldn't get his act together, ruined other people's lives, and shattered his mother's. I don't believe he knew just how deep a mother's love goes.
"Mrs. Sampson, may I give you a hug?" Faith asked, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached over and wrapped her arms tightly around Mrs. Sampson, holding her as she cried. Faith soon followed, tears flowing as she apologized for her loss.
After digesting the news, I felt a weight lifted from our shoulders. "Mrs. Sampson, please stay, have tea, and..."
"Oh, thank you, my dear, but I do have other business I need to attend to, and I would love to take you up on that soon if I may."
"You are welcome here anytime."
"Oh yes, about that," Mrs. Sampson handed me the thick envelope from her purse. I took it, feeling its weight, unsure what it could hold. She watched us closely as I opened it, revealing a stack of papers and several large checks.
"What's this?" I asked, flipping through the papers and seeing legal documents, title deeds, and bank statements.
"It's my way of making things right, even though I know I can never undo what has been done," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "The deeds are for my property, my house—well, now you own it. It was to go to Gregory, since he has departed life, I felt I needed to gift it over. It's yours now, along with the accounts associated with them. I've also included a substantial sum in the checks; these are from his life insurance and what was going to be left to him when I passed. Consider it a gesture of goodwill to help you start fresh, to give your family the life you deserve."
I stared at the papers in disbelief, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what she was offering. Faith squeezed my hand, her eyes wide with shock.
"Mrs. Sampson, we can't possibly accept this. It's too much," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. The thought of being financially secure and never worrying about money again was tempting—especially with a baby on the way.
"It's not too much," she insisted gently. "It's what I owe you both. Gregory's actions destroyed so much, and I know this won't bring back your dear friend or erase the pain, but it's a start. Please, take it. I want you to have it."
Faith and I exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between us..
We both understood that accepting this gift would change everything. It wasn't just about us—it was about our future, about giving our children the best life possible. But before we could accept, there was one more thing we needed to make clear.
"We'll accept it," Faith said, her voice steady. "But on one condition."
Mrs. Sampson looked at us with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What is it?"
"You have to be involved in our family," stepping forward. "We want you at every family event, every birthday, every holiday. And the kids will know you as Aunty Sammie. If you're giving us this gift, you're not just helping us—you're becoming part of our family."
Mrs. Sampson's eyes filled with tears, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't expected this, but the emotion in her eyes said it all. "I don't know what to say. I have never had a counteroffer like that," she stammered, her voice thick with emotion.
"Say you'll do it," Faith said softly, a gentle smile on her lips. "Say you'll be there for us."
A tear rolled down Mrs. Sampson's cheek as she nodded. "I will," she whispered. "I'll be there for all of you. Thank you... thank you for letting me be part of this."
We stood there for a moment, the weight of what we'd just agreed to sink in. This wasn't just a financial arrangement—a commitment, a promise to stay connected and build something beautiful together. After a moment, Mrs. Sampson straightened her shoulders, trying to regain her composure. "I should go now," she said, her voice trembling slightly. I've taken up enough of your time and have so much to do. I want to go baby shopping amidst my other laundry list of things to do." The smile on her face was unexplainable.
"I'll show myself out." She walked quickly in her heels and opened the door, sticking her head back in: "You, too, should finish your afternoon rendezvous." With that, she quickly shut the door behind her.
Faith and I stood in the living room, processing what had just happened. Then, Faith turned to me, her eyes shining with determination. "We have a lot to talk about," she said, gesturing to the envelope. "But first, I think we need to finish what we started."
I grinned, feeling a surge of warmth and love for the woman beside me. "You're right," I agreed. "Where were we?"
Faith pulled me close, her lips brushing against mine. "Right about here," she whispered before capturing my mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. The world outside faded away as we lost ourselves in each other, knowing that we had each other no matter what came next—and that was all we needed.
Later, as we lay entwined on the couch, the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows, Faith rested her head on my chest. "What do you think we should do with everything Mrs. Sampson gave us?" she asked quietly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on my skin.
"We’ll tackle it together," I promised, wrapping my arms around her. "One step at a time."
The End