54. The harvest
THE HARVEST
ONE YEAR LATER
T anzania was quiet in a way Spring didn’t know she’d needed.
The air was warm but gentle, the kind that settled instead of pressed. Outside the open window, night insects hummed like they were keeping time with the slow rhythm of the village. Somewhere down the road, a radio played soft music, the sound drifting through the dark like it belonged to everyone.
Inside, the small television murmured low – international news, a familiar cadence she’d learned to half-ignore while she finished her notes for the day.
Spring sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, pausing only long enough to sip the tea cooling beside her. The twins were asleep in the next room, their quiet breathing drifting through the open doorway like a reminder that the house was full.
It was a good life.
Simple in the ways that mattered.
She was almost finished typing when she heard his name.
Preston.
Her fingers stopped for a moment on the keyboard.
She looked up.
The ticker at the bottom of the news read: ONE YEAR SINCE THE DEATH OF R&B ICON PRESTON COLE.
She didn’t reach for the remote. She let it play.
The anchor’s voice was measured, reverent. Footage rolled – concert lights, crowds singing words he wrote alone in a studio, clips from the documentary teasers that had already begun circulating.
The rise and fall of a charismatic R&B icon…
Spring exhaled slowly.
They mention the album, Coleheart , still number one. A record-breaking run. Months at the top. They talked about his voice like it belonged to history now instead of memory.
Then the tone shifted.
“In related news, Macknificent Townes’ involuntary manslaughter conviction – stemming from the death of Preston Cole – has reached sentencing. His lawyers were able to argue a strong self-defense plea. With time served, Townes is expected to be released…
Spring felt the pain – not sharp, not fresh – but present. Like a scar that still remembered how it was made.
The screen cuts to courtroom footage.
Talia was there. Aged. Stronger. Sitting upright, hands folded, eyes forward. She didn’t look at the cameras. She didn’t need to.
A faint smile crossed Spring’s face.
Behind her was a soft sound.
She turned.
Elijah was asleep in his crib, his small body rising and falling in that sacred rhythm only babies knew. His sister, Ellison, was curled next to him, one hand flung dramatically over her pillow like she was mid-adventure, even in dreams.
Spring smiled.
She reached for her phone and stepped into the next room, closing the door quietly.
Rae answered on the second ring. “You see it?” Rae asked gently.
“Yeah,” Spring said, keeping her voice low.
“ I can’t believe he’s getting out of jail. He should?—”
“Girl, don’t get me started.”
A pause. Then Rae probed softly. “You okay?”
Spring takes the time to think about the question. “Yes,” she responded. “I am.. I really am.” She leaned against the wall, eyes closed. “I miss him. But I’m not broken.”
Rae exhaled on the other end. “Good, cause we start the Obama documentary this weekend… you ready?”
Spring smiles faintly. “As ready as I can be. But first, the release of Preston’s documentary.”
“I know… I’m not even sure what to say, girl.”
“I’m excited to see you and Brian,” Spring changed the subject “Almost a year together? Congratulations.”
“I gotta admit, I can’t believe we’re still together, but I love him. That’s my short king – though I still can’t believe you’re trusting Brian to watch the kids,” Rae says. “Girl, I can hardly get him to put the toilet seat down.”
Spring nodded, even though Rae couldn’t see it. “He’s Justice League. That will always matter to me.”
They talked logistics for a minute – press, timing, the quiet chaos that always came with shooting weekends – before saying their goodbyes.
Spring returned to the bedroom and lowered herself carefully onto the bed. Elijah stirred, then settled. Ellison sighed in her sleep.
Spring looked at them both.
One year ago, she thought her life had ended.
Instead, it had transformed.
She thought about what the documentary meant – not as a career milestone, not as legacy-building – but as closure that didn’t erase her love. It was proof that what they’d had was real. That it mattered. That it still did.
Outside, the night carried on.
Inside, Spring rested her hand over her children’s backs and lets herself feel something she once thought she’d never earn again.
Peace.
Tomorrow, she’d return to a world that still sang his songs, still debated his story, still tried to define him.
Tonight, she was exactly where she needed to be. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.
Spring set her phone down and exhaled. “I gotta admit…you make a very sexy dead guy,” she joked quietly.
A voice answered from behind her, dry and familiar. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”
She turned slowly. “I’m still mad at you,” she chided.
Preston leaned against the wall, arms crossed, wearing that look – the one that meant he knew he deserved it and was going to let her win. “I know. My cherie am ?— ”
“Don’t you even start. You think that song can get you out of everything. Not this time.”
Preston lifted his hands in the air in surrender. “Baby, how many times can I apologize?”
“Forever. You let me think you were dead,” she said. “I heard the words. I felt my life end.”
“For a night,” he said gently. “One night. And not even the whole night.”
She scoffed. “Don’t minimize it.”
“I would never,” he said. “But I thought you understood why I had to —”
“Oh, I understand but, it doesn’t make me not upset. Not today.”
“Baby… you’re being unreasonable.”
“Nope. I’m mad at you. Today is my day to be mad. Annually.”
She sat, arms crossed tight, glaring at him like she meant it. She didn’t tell him to continue. Didn’t give permission. He did anyway. “My love… when they rolled me to the back room,” Preston says, “I was still conscious. Losing blood, yeah – but awake.”
Her expression faltered for half a second. She remembered his eyes, the way they had never left hers.
“I told Brian I wanted out,” he continued. “Out of that life. Out of the machine. I didn’t care how – I just couldn’t live like that anymore.”
Spring closed her eyes.
“And the coroner,” Preston continued. “He was already compromised. Half a million dollars to cover up Cameron’s death. He knew if the truth ever surfaced, he was finished.”
She nodded. “So you and Brian made sure it was a mutually-assured destruction.”
“Exactly,” Preston said. “If he talks, he goes down for covering up a real murder. If he stays quiet, he keeps his money and lives on.”
“And Brian?” she asked softly.
“He knew I couldn’t just disappear,” Preston replied. “Not without something final. Something public. There was so much chaos, the news wouldn’t end if we didn’t act fast.”
Spring let out a slow breath. “So, he came out and told me you were dead.”
“He had to baby,” Preston insisted. “Not for you. For everyone else .”
She looked at him sharply. “You told him to lie to me.”
“For like… twelve hours,” he said quickly. “Just long enough for it to hold. Cameras. Staff. Security. Mack. The narrative had to be set before anyone could question it.”
Her voice shook. “That was the worst night of my life.”
“I know,” he said. “And I hate that. I’ll always hate that, baby.”
She folded her arms. “Brian was convincing.”
“He gave the performance of his life,” Preston said with a chuckle. “Man cried on cue.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I believed him.”
“You had to,” Preston said. “If anyone saw even a crack – if they thought you knew – this wouldn’t have worked.”
“I could’ve been in on it.”
“Spring, I love you with all my heart, but you’re best behind the camera.”
“Am not,” she argued.
“What? You’re a terrible actor.”
She glared at him. “I am not.”
“You would’ve blown it in ten minutes,” he said gently. “And you know it.”
“Whatever. All I know is, Momma Avery would’ve been proud of Brian’s performance… but I’m pissed at him, too.” Spring pinched him, partly to hurt him, partly to make sure he was real.
A part of her still revisited that day, and every now and then, needed to assure herself.
Preston wrapped his arms around her.
She touched his shirtless body and rubbed her hand over the scar that had almost changed her life forever.
She sighed, pressing her mouth to his chest. “So when did you tell him to tell me?”
“The second I was stable,” Preston said. “We moved fast. Twelve hours after I got out of the country, once I got overseas and got setup, Brian called you. No records. No witnesses.”
Spring remembered it now. The knock, the look in Brian’s eyes when the performance finally dropped.
“When he gave me that phone,” she said softly. “Seeing your face, alive…”
“You were furious,” Preston chuckled.
She nodded. “I slapped him.”
“Hard. I heard it over the phone.”
“He deserved it. And so did you.”
“We did, you’re right… I’m sorry… again.” he agreed.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Spring looked at him—breathing, solid, real. “I’m still mad,” she said. “But I understand why you did it.”
He reached for her hand. She let him. “I didn’t want our kids growing up in that world, baby,” he said. “Where everyone only sees me as a product.”
She squeezed his fingers. “They’ll see you as their father.”
“And you,” he added, “see me.”
She smiled faintly. “You really do make a handsome dead guy.” After a spell, she turned him and kissed him, then grinned “Let’s never do that again.”
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Agreed,” he said. “Once was enough.”
Outside, the night hummed.
Inside, the truth finally feels settled – not buried, not hidden.
And this time, no one had to die for it.
Eventually they got up to leave the twins in peace. Spring leaned against the doorframe, watching Preston move through the room, like this quiet life fit him better than the loud one ever did.
“So… Justice League,” she said suddenly.
He looked up, smiling. “We’re getting a new member, and a woman at that. Are you excited?”
“About telling Rae, my best friend, that you’re alive? Yes. I’ve been lying to her for a year now.”
He considered it for a moment. “From what I hear, since her and Brian are dating now, he might have to tell her first.”
Spring nodded. “She’s going to be as mad as I was.”
“We’ll deal with it when she gets here.”
She exhaled, as the weight of the next part settled in. “I have to legitimize you to the world. And I have to leave the babies here.” The words hurt coming out, even though she knew they were necessary.
Preston crossed the room and cupped her face. “Hey. I’m going to take good care of them. Me and Brian got this covered.”
She smiled weakly. “I know. We’re rich.”
He grinned. “Technically, you’re rich. I’m dead.”
She laughed despite herself. “Exactly, and don’t you forget it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I always wanted to be a sugar baby.”
She snorted. “If you’re nice, Mama might give you a little sugar before I leave.”
He gestured toward the room. “Careful now, that’s how we got these two.”
She swatted his arm, laughing, then sobered. “How do you feel about Mack? About him slithering out of this?”
Preston shrugged, calm in a way that surprised even him. “I’m free. That’s how I feel.”
“He’s telling people he turned his life over to the Lord,” she said. “That’s his new angle. And Talia is standing right by his side.”
Preston nodded. “I’m sad for them. Truly. That kind of emptiness doesn’t disappear just because you rename it.”
Spring watched him closely. “Do you think you’ll ever miss it? The music. The stage. The noise. Ever want to go back?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No,” he said simply. “I’ve got everything I want, everything I’ve ever wanted, right here.” He took her hand, pressing it to his chest. “I’ve got you. I’ve got our kids. I’ve got a life that doesn’t ask me to bleed for it.”
Her eyes filled, but she didn’t cry.
She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then I’ll go tell the world the truth they want to hear. And you stay here and keep our world safe.”
He smiled. “Just us.”
“Always,”
Her fingers instinctively found the necklace resting against her chest—the one her mother gave her years ago. Preston’s hand covered hers gently, thumb brushing across the pendant like second nature now.
A quiet promise.
A quiet prayer. A moment between lovers that endured the harshness of life, and the distance of time.
A moment of peace.
“Now… sing my song, Big Bird,” she whispered.
Preston smiled and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. He leaned into her and kissed her on the forehead and began to sing to her and their children. “ My cherie amour… ”
They stand there for a moment – no cameras, no secrets, no ghosts left pretending to be alive.
Just two people who survived the worst version of a dream and chose something better.
And for the first time since everything fell apart, the future didn’t feel loud.
It feels earned.