Chapter 34

T he next morning they woke to the sound of trucks barreling down the driveway. Lots and lots and lots of trucks. Celeste sat up, wild haired and confused. “It’s a convoy.” Her first thought was to warn everyone of IED’s, proving army life would die a hard and slow death over the years to come.

“I don’t know what it is,” Sam said, yawning as he sat up beside her.

“I’ve got to get my gun,” she said, hopping out of bed.

“You mean you weren’t wearing it last night while we slept? That is progress,” he said happily, slipping out of bed and padding down the hall behind her.

Someone knocked on the door and they froze.

“Terrorists with retribution on their minds probably don’t knock,” he whispered. “I think it’s safe to skip the gun, just this once.”

With a little nod, Celeste opened the door, blinking in surprise when she saw Maybe and Tony on the other side.

“Good morning,” Maybe said cheerfully, doing the frantic wave thing once more, as if they were a great distance away and not right next to each other.

“Morning,” Celeste said, giving her a few halfhearted hand flaps in return.

“We came to apologize,” Tony said.

Maybe nudged him. “That wasn’t how we practiced it. You were supposed to be smooth.”

“I’m smooth by virtue of my existence,” he returned and she retched loudly. They elbowed each other a couple of times, looking more like teenage siblings than grown friends, before coming to some kind of unspoken resolution.

“Anyway, we came to apologize,” Maybe began again. “Because we feel bad.”

“You do?” Celeste said. “But why?”

“Because we’ve put so much pressure on you about the orchard. It’s not fair. All of us want it, true. But it’s not a condition of all of us wanting you. Whether or not we ever have an orchard again doesn’t matter. We’re so happy you’re here, Sam and Celeste, and we don’t want you to go away.”

“There were a couple of bad apples, orchard pun intended,” Tony said when Maybe paused to dash at her brimming eyes. “We wanted you to know they have nothing to do with Paradise. They were a couple of drifters who became ranch hands and lingered. They’re not from here, and they don’t represent us.”

“I appreciate that,” Sam said, nodding.

“So do I,” Celeste said. “You’ve made us feel so welcome. You’ve become…friends. As for the orchard, I think it’s a loss.”

“Well,” Maybe drawled. “We were thinking about that, too. It was too much, expecting someone new and inexperienced to do all that work by yourself. So we had this idea…”

“A wonderful awful idea,” Tony interjected. Maybe nudged him again, annoyed at the interruption.

“That maybe we should all help,” Maybe blurted, anxious to get it out before Tony interrupted again.

“That’s so sweet, but help with what? The trees are almost all gone,” Celeste said.

“They’re not, actually,” Baird said, poking his head around the corner where he’d apparently been hiding during Tony and Maybe’s Laurel and Hardy routine.

“Ta-da!” Fletcher announced, poking his head out from the opposite side, breathless and panting. “Sorry, I just got here and hopped over the porch railing. Firing trainer, not working well at all.”

“What?” Celeste said, wary at the sight of Fletcher. If he was involved, it could be anything. And it was. Maybe took her hand and gave it a tug, urging her outside. They made space as she stepped onto the porch, followed by Sam. And then she saw them, practically all of Paradise, lined in a parade of trucks. And in those trucks were hundreds upon hundreds of trees, fruit trees.

“We thought we’d have a planting party,” Maybe said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“I thought that was supposed to be my line,” Tony said resentfully.

“No, you were supposed to say… Oh, hush. You’re teasing me,” Maybe said, shoving his arm.

“From the moment we met,” Tony agreed, turning his gleaming smile on Celeste. “What do you think?”

“I…I…I…” That was all she could utter. She tossed Sam an SOS, eyes brimming.

“We’re so happy,” he said, easing his arm around Celeste. “We already knew we loved it here and wanted to stay. This kindness is confirmation of that.”

“Should we get started planting?” Fletcher asked. He glanced down at his hand. “I brought gloves. Got to protect the merchandise.”

“It’s okay, Fletcher. The television only cares about your pretty face,” Tony told him.

Wow, Celeste mouthed to Sam. Apparently the entire town was in on the delusion of Fletcher’s supposed fame.

People began unloading trees, asking Celeste where she’d like them. She had no idea. No one did. It turned out no one in Paradise had any idea what to do with fruit trees, besides plant them and hope for the best.

After the trees were unloaded and arranged, Elliot pulled Celeste aside. “I wanted to ask you something.” He darted a look over her head, to make certain they weren’t overheard. “I couldn’t help notice that you seem well equipped to handle emergencies. Lately I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed, working two jobs, and I wondered if you might consider becoming a deputy, on a part time basis.”

“Wow,” Celeste said slowly. It came so naturally to say yes, she had to make herself pause to think about it. Being a deputy would be a natural fit, an easy transition from her last job. However… “Thank you so much for thinking of me, but I think I’m going to say no. I kind of want to explore a new path and figure out a life that doesn’t involve keeping the peace. But I do know someone who is handy with a weapon and has a hero complex.” Her eyes swiveled to Sam, at this moment holding one of Fletcher and Chloe’s children on his hip and making her laugh.

“Do you think he’d be interested?” Elliot asked.

“I’ll talk to him. I have some pull.”

“He’s so… happy ,” Elliot said with a grimace. “It would be like having my wife, but at work.”

“Don’t fall in love with him,” Celeste warned. “He’s taken.”

Elliot snorted and gave her shoulder a light shove. They didn’t talk about it again, but she noticed him watching Sam with a mixture of speculation and approval and was fairly certain an offer would be forthcoming.

Hours later, after Avery and her husband delivered food for the entire crowd, the planting was done, and everyone left, only Sam and Celeste remained. They lay on their backs hand in hand, staring up at the fading sunlight.

“You know this means we can never leave here,” Sam mused.

“Spoiler alert: I never intended to.”

“Me neither,” he said happily.

A breeze drifted by. It was that sweet spot in late spring where any amount of sun or warmth brought swift giddiness and a promise of better things to come.

“Sam,” she said softly.

“Mm,” he returned, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze.

“This seems like a good time to tell you one more thing I left off my list. Another secret, a big one. Maybe the worst one.”

“What’s that?” he asked. To his credit he didn’t sound tense or trepidatious at all, merely curious.

She took a deep breath and made herself say the words. “I really hate apples. So much. You have no idea.”

He paused, then, “Good thing we didn’t just plant two hundred of their trees.”

She snorted a laugh and then couldn’t stop. They laughed until they were spent, then crawled together, seeking warmth and each other.

Celeste sat up and smoothed the hair at his temple. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” he replied, smiling up at her, warm brown eyes brimming with affection.

“Come on.” She stood and tugged him with her. They held hands on the way to the house. He planned to follow her to the kitchen and help prepare supper, but she led him to the couch, bade him sit down, and retrieved one of her journals, the first one in the series.

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding a little awed. His tone made her feel humbled and more than a little loved. These were only her memories, and yet he was treating them like they were a precious treasure, merely because he wanted to know her.

“I’m positive,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt. She couldn’t stick around and watch him read, though. It was too much. “I’ll make supper.” She could do that now that she’d learned to make an entire week’s rotation of meals. I can cook and love and open myself to the world around me; I am bent but not broken, well on my way to wholeness one baby step at a time.

She whirled and immersed herself in preparing food. Tonight they would have chicken salad. As the first thing Celeste learned to make, it was now her go-to comfort food. She was nearly finished when she realized Sam stood in the doorway, watching her.

“Come here a moment,” he said when he had her attention. He held out his hand to her. She took it and allowed him to lead her to the couch. He lay down and pulled her with him, encapsulating her in a full body hug, squeezing tightly.

“What’s this about?” she asked, not that she was complaining. She enjoyed hugging, and she especially enjoyed hugging Sam, who was almost as deficient on his hug quota as she was.

“The common theme I’m reading in your journal is that you wanted to know you were safe and loved, and though it’s a little late, I thought it seemed appropriate to pause and tell you that you are safe and loved. I am so proud of you. You are precious and worthwhile, and you always have been, even when no one else realized.”

She squirmed a little, nestling closer as she hugged him back. “Thank you.”

“Also, I think we should get a dog.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked.

“Every girl needs a dog. They’re good therapy.”

“Is this an elaborate way of making it seem about me, when you really want a puppy?” she guessed.

“Mitch and Caldwell’s dog had a litter. They said we could have one. I told them I’d have to check with you. Please, pretty please can we get one?”

“I’ve never had a dog before,” she said.

“Then it’s well past time,” Sam said.

“I’m nervous, but okay,” she said. “Also, supper is ready.”

“I’m hungry, but…”

“But…” she prompted.

“But I think maybe I like and need this more than food right now,” Sam said, smoothing his hand on her neck, beneath her hair. He always seemed to know exactly how to touch her to make all her stress disappear, to bestow maximum affection, sort of like magic.

“Same,” Celeste agreed.

They lay cuddled on the couch, feeling safe and warm and content , their supper forgotten until they eventually fell asleep. When they woke a few hours later, they ate their forgotten chicken salad and talked about their dog, attempting to preemptively find a name. It was all so ordinary, maybe even mundane, but Celeste had never been happier, and she knew Sam felt the same. And she realized, as they sat on the floor making a list of puppy names, that perhaps they had stumbled on some grand truth, that love made the ordinary extraordinary.

She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, a vision of their future dancing before her, so clear she could almost touch it. They would get their dog, and they would get married. Eventually they would have children, and those children would spend their days running barefoot on the orchard, greeting customers who came to pick fruit and buy apples. They would grow old together; Sam would shrink and his belly would round, Celeste would become a brittle wisp, but they would remain happy and in love, forever in Paradise.

Thank you for reading The Fixer and The Fugitive, the first crossover in the Spies Like Us and Paradise Series.

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