Epilogue
Viola
Jacob’s whistle floated through the open kitchen window, past the stovepipe-hatted figurine on the sill—Mr. Fisher’s gift from our last stop in Wichita. I pressed the heels of my hands into the warm, pliable dough beside Cook. Knead and fold. Knead and fold.
Jacob tromped up the back stairs, bringing a different kind of warmth with him. “Good morning and good morning.” He untied my apron and pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck. When I turned toward him, he tucked a purple mayflower behind my ear. “Come, Mrs. Jensen. I have two things to show you.”
Hand in hand we ambled out the door and down toward the burbling creek. He paused, leaning against the handrail of our bridge, blocking my path forward.
“What is this, the Billy Goats Gruff?” I propped a hand on my hip and tried to look stern. “Are you trying to make me jump?”
Jacob flicked his eyes down and to the side, and I followed his gaze. Carved into the sturdy wooden beam was a heart. The fresh, clean lines glowed in the morning light. Inside, he’d carved J+V and today’s date.
I crouched to trace my finger along the grooves. “You are terribly romantic, Mr. Jensen.” I stood and stepped into his arms.
“Happy anniversary, my dear,” he said.
“Did you bump your head?” I ran fingers through his thick hair. “It’s hardly January.”
“It has been exactly one year,” he said. “A whole year since you fell into my life and changed it forever.”
He scooped me into his arms. I yelped, and his chest shook with laughter as he carried me across the bridge toward the hay shed.
“I swear, you will find any excuse to carry me about.” But I didn’t demand to be put down.
He kissed the top of my head. “Seems like an appropriate tradition for today.”
“Only a year?” I said. “Seems a lifetime.”
He strode to the front of the hay shed, not even out of breath. When I angled my face upward, he kissed me, slow and sure, and I threaded my arms around his neck.
“You said you had two things to show me? So kissing is the second thing? Wait… you aren’t going to carry me over the hill again, are you?”
His lips returned to mine, and I felt as much as heard his answering “Hmm.” He pulled back and said, “Sounds like a challenge.”
I squeaked, and he eased me back to my feet with deliberate slowness.
He tilted his head toward the shed. “In here.” He opened the door and held a finger to his lips.
We crept into the dim, dusty shed—the site of our first kiss—and he guided me toward a small pile of hay in the back corner. A hollowed-out area held something dark and wiggly. My eyes adjusted to the low light. It was Mouser. I gasped. “She had her kittens!”
“Just this morning, I think. Five of them.”
The tired mama cat curled on her side and suckled her newborn kittens.
They mewled a delicate melody, pure and bright as my piano’s high C.
I tiptoed over. The impossibly small babies kneaded at their mother’s belly, their eyes still closed.
One was gray, like Mouser, but there was also a calico, two orange tabbies splashed with white, and a little black puff, the runt of the litter.
“Precious babies. Well done, Mouser.”
Jacob stepped behind me, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me close. His breath tickled my ear. “When they are weaned, you will have first pick of the litter. As I recall, you require two cats for your famous plan.”
“The cats were Sarah’s suggestion. She worried I would be lonely as a spinster.” And she’d been right. I’d once planned a lonely life for myself.
He wrapped me in his arms. “Feeling lonely, Mrs. Jensen?”
I spun to face him. “Never.”
“Goodbye, manifesto?”
I grinned at my husband. “Actually, I have a new manifesto—without a cat requirement.”
“Really?” He traced his fingertips along my jaw.
“Much easier to remember.”
“Mmm.” He tapped my cheek lightly. “Hello, dimple.” He brushed his lips across my cheek.
“Stop trying to make me forget. Aren’t you curious?”
“Are you going to make me guess?” He smirked. “Does it have to do with bread?”
I laughed. “No bread.” Then I placed one hand over my heart and one over his and stared into eyes I knew better than my own.
“I, Viola Jensen, will love and be loved.”
“I like it.” He bent to nuzzle my neck. “Simple and to the point.”
Mouser shifted position, and the tiny chorus rose again. I glanced over my shoulder at the new kittens. “Maybe we should save a kitten for Sarah, as a belated wedding gift.”
“She will not need to worry about loneliness, either,” Jacob said. “They are a good match and almost as happy as we are.”
I snuggled against the man I loved. “I have no concerns about loneliness, but the kittens are adorable. I might consider a pair.”
“Speaking of adorable…” He brushed my hair back from my face and cupped my chin. “Let’s follow your excellent plan, my dear.”
“I’m nothing if not a planner.”
And then, once again in the hay shed, his lips found mine.