Chapter 15 Moses
MOSES
I woke to the gentle sound of rain against the hotel window, the gray morning light softening the edges of the unfamiliar room.
Beside me, Rhett slept peacefully, his features relaxed in a way they rarely were during waking hours.
I allowed myself a moment to simply watch him, to memorize the rhythm of his breathing, the way his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, the silver at his temples that caught the subdued light.
Today was the day. After a week that had transformed my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined, we would be leaving Gomillion; Rhett to Boston, me to Atlanta. Back to our separate lives, our established routines, the reality beyond this bubble of reconnection and revelation we’d been living in.
The weight of impending separation pressed against my chest, making it difficult to breathe normally.
We had a plan, the three-month trial period, the scheduled visits, the shared project of exploring a future together.
It was sensible, practical, and mature even.
Everything our teenage romance hadn’t been.
So why did the thought of watching Rhett drive away feel like having my heart torn out all over again?
I carefully extracted myself from the tangle of sheets, moving quietly to avoid waking him.
After a week of emotional upheaval, he deserved whatever extra rest he could get.
Padding to the window, I pushed the curtain aside slightly, watching the steady rain transform Gomillion into a watercolor painting, buildings and trees blurred at the edges, colors muted and running together.
It was fitting, somehow, that our departure would take place under these gray skies. The previous night’s moonlit walk and heartfelt conversations had been almost too perfect, too cinematic. Today’s rain brought us back to earth, to the bittersweet reality of separation after connection.
Behind me, the rustle of sheets signaled Rhett’s awakening. I turned to find him watching me, his eyes still heavy with sleep but focused entirely on me.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long,” I replied, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Just thinking.”
His expression turned concerned, instantly more alert. “Second thoughts?”
I shook my head quickly, not wanting him to misinterpret my contemplative mood. “No. Just processing. It’s been an intense week.”
Rhett nodded, sitting up and running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “That’s an understatement. You’ve confronted your past, cleared your name, reconciled with the town, reconnected with me... and now you have to go back to regular life as if none of that happened.”
“Exactly,” I confirmed, grateful for his immediate understanding. “It feels surreal. Like I’m stepping between worlds.”
He reached for my hand, his touch warm and grounding. “The difference is that this time, you’re not going back alone. Different cities, yes, but we’re in this together now.”
I squeezed his hand, drawing strength from the simple contact. “I know. It helps. More than I can express.”
We stayed like that for a moment, connected by touch and shared understanding, before the practical demands of the day began to assert themselves. Flights to book, goodbyes to say, real life to prepare for.
“What time do you think you’ll make a move?” Rhett asked as he reluctantly released my hand and moved to gather his scattered belongings.
“I should probably leave by early afternoon,” I replied, already mentally calculating the drive back to Atlanta. “I want to stop by the bar first, finalize a few things with Bronwyn.”
Rhett nodded, his movements measured and deliberate as he folded a shirt with architectural precision. “I was thinking of hitting the road around the same time. It’s a long drive to Boston, but if I get a few hours in today, I can break it up reasonably.”
The mundane logistics discussion felt like a defense mechanism for both of us, a way to avoid confronting the emotion of our impending separation. I played along, commenting on traffic patterns and optimal rest stops, all while a deeper current of feeling ran beneath the surface.
As we packed and prepared for the day, I found myself moving more slowly than necessary, lingering over simple tasks, stealing glances at Rhett as if to imprint his presence in my memory.
He seemed to be doing the same, our eyes meeting often in silent acknowledgment of what neither of us was saying aloud.
We had breakfast at the hotel’s modest restaurant, our conversation drifting between practical plans for our three-month trial period and reminiscences about the week that had just passed.
Neither of us mentioned the heaviness that hung in the air, the countdown clock ticking in the background of every word.
After breakfast, we walked through the rain-slicked streets to Timbers it has me.” She laughed. “It has all week while you’ve been busy rewriting local history and rekindling old flames.”
Her dry tone couldn’t quite mask the affection beneath, and I felt a surge of gratitude for this woman who had become family to me over the years.
“I know it will,” I assured her. “I just want to make sure you have everything you need before I head back.”
While I reviewed the week’s paperwork with Bronwyn, Rhett wandered the bar, examining the décor with an architect’s eye. I was acutely aware of his movements even as I focused on the business at hand, my attention divided in a way that felt both distracting and right.
“Go,” Bronwyn said suddenly, interrupting my half-hearted attempts to focus on inventory levels. “Everything’s fine here. You have more important things to do on your last day than count bottles.”
I started to protest, but she silenced me with a look I’d learned not to argue with.
“Moses Morley, I have successfully run this bar without you for the entirety of reunion week. I think I can handle a few more days. Now take your architect and enjoy what time you have left before you’re both drowning in long-distance relationship clichés. ”
Put that way, it was hard to argue. I embraced her briefly, a rare physical display that made her stiffen in surprise before awkwardly patting my back.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “For everything this week. Having you in my corner made all the difference.”
“Yes, well,” she muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the sentimentality, “someone had to make sure you didn’t mess it all up.”
I laughed, releasing her from the embrace. “Heaven forbid.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Bronwyn,” Rhett said, extending his hand to her. “Thank you for taking care of him all these years.”
She shook his hand firmly, her expression softening slightly. “He’s worth the trouble. Usually. Take care of each other, yes? And spare me the details of how you’ll do that.”
With that characteristic blend of warmth and acerbity, she shooed us out the door, back into the rain-soaked day that marked our last in Gomillion.
“Where to now?” Rhett asked as we stood under the awning, the rain still falling steadily around us.
I considered the options, feeling the weight of limited time. “There’s one place I’d like to visit before we leave. If you don’t mind getting a little wet.”
Rhett smiled, understanding in his eyes. “Lead the way.”
We made our way through town, past the square with its newly restored Paul Bunyan statue, beyond the school where so much had happened this week, to the small community cemetery on the outskirts of Gomillion.
Here, beneath ancient oak trees that provided some shelter from the rain, lay generations of local families, including my grandmother, the one person who had always seen me clearly, accepted me completely.
“I haven’t been here since her funeral,” I admitted as we approached her simple headstone. “Couldn’t face it, all these years.”
Rhett squeezed my hand in silent support as I crouched down, brushing away fallen leaves from the engraved stone.
Eleanor Morley, Beloved Wife, Mother, Grandmother.
The dates spanning a long, full life that had ended just a year before the statue incident, depriving me of what might have been my only ally during that difficult time.
“She would have believed you,” Rhett said softly. “About what really happened.”
“She would have,” I agreed, a lump forming in my throat. “Without question. And she would have taken on the entire Hayes family single-handedly to defend me.”
“She sounds formidable.”
“She was,” I smiled at the memory. “Five feet tall in her orthopedic shoes, but with enough determination for someone twice her size. She’s the one who taught me to stand up for myself, to be honest about who I was, even when it was difficult.”
“I wish I’d met her,” Rhett said, his voice warm with genuine regret.