Epilogue
Our song was a flowing melody, quick and steady, intertwined with speeding trills and imperfect measures. My eyes streaked over the music in front of me and down to the strong hand that played deftly beside my own. A laugh bubbled in my chest.
“Turn the page!” I exclaimed.
From the corner of my eye I saw James’s other hand flick to the music and move the sheet we had finished out of my way. “Play faster,” he said. I heard the smile in his voice.
My fingers bounded over the keys and every muscle in my body tightened in concentration.
My heart soared, and James chuckled beside me as he struggled to keep up.
The song was almost over, and we finished with a dramatic flourish.
The resonating sound echoed off the walls until it had faded into silence.
And then the room burst into applause.
I looked up at James, who sat beside me on the bench. He smiled, and the sight fluttered my heart as it always did. “Well done,” he whispered. Then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
I laughed and ducked my head. “We have an audience,” I berated.
He raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him. “Well, in that case…”
Before I could object he pulled me against him and kissed me, deeply and slowly, making me melt and momentarily forget our spectators.
“See what they think of that,” he whispered against my lips.
I pulled away, laughing and blushing even worse than Clara.
I swatted his arm, shaking my head at the wink he threw my way.
The pianoforte had been a wedding gift from the Abbots.
It was the very instrument that had been in their sitting room for all those hours I had played it.
Mrs. Abbot had insisted that we have it, even as I had tried to refuse such a generous gift.
But it had been moved to our little home the day of our wedding six months before.
And it hadn’t moved since. The pianoforte fit so perfectly here with its chipped keys and fading colors.
Our house was small, but it was comfortable, safe, and much more of a home than I had ever known. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I glanced over my shoulder, smiling without reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Abbot sat on the end of our uneven sofa, with Lucy and Rachel crowded on the other end. Clara and Thomas sat on the chairs closest to the pianoforte.
Clara wasn’t clapping—her hands were occupied with her squirming baby, Henry. She planted a quick kiss on his sagging, round cheek and his tiny fingers wrapped around a strand of her hair. He pulled and Clara gasped, laughing as she held him at a distance.
“Naughty boy, Henry!” Sophia rushed to Clara’s side and tapped the baby’s nose with one finger. “You will hurt Mama!”
I smiled and rotated on the bench so I faced them. I leaned against James. Sophia adored her little brother. I watched as she smoothed the fuzzy tuft on top of his head. He reached for her hair but she skipped away, shaking a finger at him. James’s laugh rumbled against me.
Sophia hurried over to where we sat at the pianoforte. “Aunt Charlotte and Uncle James! Your song was very pretty.” She stepped closer and plinked out a few notes on the keys beside me. “It’s my birthday tomorrow,” she announced for the tenth time that day at least.
“You are growing up far too fast,” I said.
James and I had already crafted a crown from the flowers in our garden that I planned to have her wear on the special day.
I had picked several different colored ribbons to intertwine with the flowers, and James had helped me assemble them.
It had turned out beautifully. I hoped she would like it.
The longer I had been here, the more I realized that the simple gifts that came without cost were always the sweetest.
Clara piped in from across the room. “You will love what Aunt Charlotte and Uncle James have for your birthday gift.”
Sophia squealed and clasped her hands together in excitement. “Is it cousins? I would like to have cousins. Very much.”
The room erupted in laughter and Sophia eyed my belly carefully. James smiled. “No cousins yet, my dear, but perhaps for your next birthday we might have such a gift for you.”
She jumped into a twirl, clapping. James laughed and tugged me closer, planting a kiss on top of my head. Sophia climbed into her father’s lap and leaned over to tickle Henry’s face with the lace cuff of her sleeve. My breath released as a sigh.
Everything in this room was beautiful. There was nothing more I wanted. Even with winter thick in the air once again, I knew there was much joy to be found—much warmth despite the cold and the dreary sky. Spring would always come again to Craster, and a love as true as ours would always last.
James’s hand slid around mine and I held onto it tight.