Epilogue
Juliet
A s spring blossomed into a hot, beautiful summer, I worked hard with the physical therapist Libby recommended—and also with Lewis Zoratti, who swiftly came to appreciate my visions for renovating the cottage into something new. I sometimes suspected he might've had a moment or two of regret over offering to help once he finally understood the scope of my plans, but the man was a godsend and I desperately enjoyed fostering a friendship with someone who'd known my mother so well.
Every tiny connection to her and Nan was a blessing in itself, each one of them worth far more than the journals and notebooks that had been lost in the fire.
In the early weeks of my recovery, I ventured once or twice to mention that I could find an apartment if I needed to, but Henry had pinned me with his intense hazel gaze and made sure I knew just how much he wanted me there with him at his house.
The memory of his efforts to convince me to stay still brought a rush of heat to my cheeks.
With my project to keep me busy and Henry’s renewed focus on updating the inn’s website and reservation systems, the summer passed in a flurry of activity. Though I didn’t think I’d ever get used to being the topic of small town gossip, I did finally start to feel like I was no longer an outsider, thanks in large part to the continual stream of well-wishes from everyone in town after our final confrontation with Heller. Henry’s house was swiftly filled with flowers, gift baskets, and enough prepared meals to keep an army fed for months.
By the final week of August, I looked forward to Nan’s memorial. The arrangements would all be carried out by Mr. Escobar and the staff at the inn, leaving me with little to do as far as preparation.
I did, however, decide to use the occasion to unveil my official plans for the cottage, which added an edge of nervous excitement to the days leading up to the event.
The day of the memorial dawned bright and sunny. With a cloudless blue sky overhead and the promise of a gentle breeze along the lake, I didn’t think I could have orchestrated more perfect weather.
When I came downstairs in a gauzy, flowing sundress of pale yellow, Henry drew a sharp breath as his expression heated. I paused in front of the lighthouse painting I’d gifted him with—I'd started it from scratch for him as soon as I was able after my surgery. It was the only painting of mine to hang in the house rather than the inn, at Henry’s insistence.
He held out his hand to usher me down the last few steps and drew me in for a kiss. “You look absolutely ravishing.”
The scar on my left shoulder was only partially covered by the thin strap of the dress, and Henry brushed his fingers over it as he kissed me again. It had become something of a habit, as though he needed to reassure himself that I was really there in his arms, that I'd survived the nightmare.
When I questioned him about it, he confessed it was more like an act of reverence, a reminder of what I'd risked for his sake and how much I meant to him.
Though the area was neither tender nor ticklish, the way my skin shivered under his fingertips reminded us both of other, more pleasurable things.
In pressed khaki pants and a short-sleeved linen dress shirt, he cut an impressive figure himself. Henry drove us over to the inn in my car, with Blue in the back seat to keep her hair off my dress as she stuck her furry face out the window.
I clasped my mother’s ring in one hand, the other toying nervously with my skirt until Henry covered it with his own. The gentle stroke of his thumb across my knuckles gradually drained some of the tension from my body.
“Do you think many people will show up?” I asked.
“Whether they do or not, it’ll be perfect.”
Henry lifted my hand to his lips and smiled over at me. I tucked his simple reassurance around me like a blanket.
The parking lot was nearly empty when we arrived, but there was an hour still to go before the memorial was scheduled to begin. Though I'd been at the cottage regularly over the months that had passed, neither Henry nor I had been back out to Nan’s clearing since that fateful day.
We were both ready to lay the ghosts of the past to rest, even if it had taken some encouragement from him to convince me I could handle it.
Leaving the car in the lot, we strolled together through the gardens on our way to the woods. Blue danced excitedly around us, pausing here and there to sniff at the flower beds. I laughed at the dog’s antics, but I gripped Henry’s hand a bit more tightly than usual.
He leaned down to murmur against my ear, “Sure you’re ready for this?”
My sigh was barely audible. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Besides, if I pass out, I figure you’ve proven you can carry me a pretty good distance through the woods.”
“I’ll carry you anywhere, Red,” he assured me, grinning.
Though my tension returned the minute the faint tinkle of windchimes met our ears, we continued walking, hand in hand. I fought hard to keep the images of that day from flooding my mind, focusing instead on the warmth of Henry’s hand in mine, the brush of my dress against his pants, the scent of his soap wafting over to tease my senses.
As the trees opened to Nan’s clearing, the two of us paused to hover just outside the circle of dancing colors. I sucked in a deep breath and propelled us both forward until we were standing in the middle of the clearing, right where I'd stumbled to my knees.
I closed my eyes, turned into his embrace, and willed myself to think only of us, now, in this moment. Eventually, the tension ebbed once more and I peeked up at Henry.
He cupped my face in his hands and mouthed, “I love you.”
My heart fluttered wildly against my ribs as I mouthed the words back to him.
When his lips covered mine, the clearing fell away, taking with it every memory of terror that had flashed through my head. Even with my eyes closed, the warm rays of sunlight settled against my skin, a rainbow caress imbued with all the love Nan had poured into this special place.
When at last we drew apart, Henry trailed his lips across my forehead.
“This is what she would've wanted,” he said softly, “for this to be a place of love and hope and comfort. She loved you, even if she never got the chance to tell you in person.”
“I wish I could have known her.”
“I do, too.”
A tremor wriggled up my spine as I let my gaze travel over the streaks of color across the grass.
“I don’t want that bastard to taint what she left here. He took too much from all three of you. Right now, we’re taking it back.”
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear. For several long moments, I simply stood there with my arms wrapped around his waist. I believed it, the truth of his words, as they settled in my heart.
When Henry’s fingers traced gentle circles across the skin of my upper back, I recalled other words he had spoken here. He felt the resulting shiver run through me and laughed softly.
“Someday,” he murmured, “but not yet. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
At that, my hand slipped around to the back of his neck so I could kiss him again.
“Yes, we do.”
After a few slightly more heated minutes under the tinkling chimes, we took one final look around the clearing and set off toward the inn. I couldn’t be certain that memories of Tom Heller wouldn’t haunt this beautiful place for the foreseeable future, but with time—and, more importantly, with Henry’s reassuring presence at my side—I hoped that I’d someday replace those memories with better ones.
Once we returned to the gardens, the sheer number of people mingling among the flowers with punch and daintily decorated cookies in hand startled me. My stride faltered and my courage wavered.
Henry turned me to face him instead of the crowd, smiling down at me in that heartbreakingly gentle way of his.
“This is your day, Red. They’re here as much to support you as to remember Nan. I won’t let you stumble, I promise.”
I forced a deep breath into my lungs and nodded. “Let’s do this, then.”
We wound our way through the crowd, shaking hands and chatting, until I caught sight of Sarah. The two of us threw ourselves into each other’s arms. Even our daily text exchanges hadn’t kept me from missing my best friend fiercely.
“You look beautiful, Jules,” Sarah said, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “God, I’m so emotional these days.”
I leaned back a little and cocked a brow. “Oh? And why is that, might I ask?”
Sarah’s face burst into a huge smile as her gaze drifted to Andre, who stood several feet away with Henry, Mark, and the two men who’d been introduced as Mark’s brothers. “We weren’t going to tell anyone yet,” she whispered, “but you’re not just anyone. Will you be my baby’s godmother? Oh, Jules, I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too, and of course I will. I’m so happy for you both.”
My heart grew lighter as I linked my arm through Sarah’s. It was strange to think the two of us were old enough for things like marriage and babies—and inn ownership, I supposed—but the promise of new life as we celebrated Nan filled me with joy.
I tugged Sarah into another tight hug just as Mrs. Gregson took the microphone from Mr. Escobar’s hands and urged us all to find a seat.
With Henry on one side and Sarah on the other, I laughed, cried, and everything in between as the speakers who’d been enlisted stood before the staggering number of townspeople who had shown up. When the stories of Nan’s wonderfully full and beautiful life finally came to an end, I rose and rubbed my hands nervously against my skirt before I stepped up to the podium.
“Thank you all so much for being here today. Through each of you, Nan’s memory has come to life for me, and that has been a truly priceless gift. We can’t change the past, no matter how much I might wish to sometimes, but together, we can look to the future.”
My eyes caught Henry’s across the short distance between us and I had to pause for a second as the impact of his smile hit me. After a deep breath, I went on with my speech.
“And since I’m not nearly as eloquent as the rest of you, I’m going to stop babbling and simply show you what I’ve been working on these last few months. After the fire, I couldn’t imagine trying to recreate everything Nan had left, but I couldn’t bear to tear down any piece of her history, either.”
I stepped over to the easel Henry had set up for me and lifted the sheet to reveal my own artwork, a poster-sized color sketch of Nan’s cottage. When I lifted away the top image, the one below showed a depiction of the inside of the cottage—not as a home, but as an intimate art gallery.
A hushed murmur of approval swept over the crowd.
“The Lakeside Gallery will feature work from local artists, including a number of Nan’s own pieces. Through the inn, Nan’s legacy lives on—and through the gallery, so will her heart.”
Applause echoed across the gardens. I swallowed hard and blinked back tears at the enthusiastic show of support.
A moment later, I was surrounded by well-wishers offering congratulations on such a beautiful tribute to Nan, by friends who had become family, by love, acceptance, and that sweet sense of belonging that had eluded me until I set foot in Spruce Hill .
Long after the crowd moved on, the glow of it lingered deep inside of me.
As most of the others filtered away, Henry’s brother Aaron and his husband, Lee, approached me and Henry. Behind them was a tall man with a ruddy complexion and sandy brown hair. I smiled politely at him even as I noticed the streaks of copper in his goatee.
“Juliet, this is our neighbor, Matthew Callahan. He grew up next door to our house in Oakville. We were talking about the memorial yesterday while we were working in the yard, and, well . . .” Aaron trailed off, gesturing for Callahan to come closer.
The man had a shy smile and warm blue eyes several shades darker than my own. He shook my hand, then suddenly he was blinking back tears.
“I was a very close friend of your mother, Juliet. Well, that’s not quite true—I was head over heels in love with her. I gave her a promise ring not long before she left town. We were going to get married after graduation,” he said softly.
“You were?” My heart tripped in my chest as the implications sank in.
Callahan drew an old Polaroid photograph from his pocket and handed it to me. There was my mother, young and carefree in a way I'd never seen, her blonde hair crimped and teased. Beside her stood a baby-faced Matthew Callahan, gazing over at my mother with such love that I could feel it, even across the decades that had passed. My mother held up her left hand for the camera, revealing a dainty opal ring.
“She wore that ring every day of my life. She always said my father gave it to her, that it was all she had left of him,” I said softly, when at last I was able to drag my gaze from the photo.
Drawing the ring on its silver chain from under the neckline of my dress, I stared at the man standing before me, dimly aware of Aaron dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. Callahan gave a wobbly smile.
“I didn’t know she was pregnant when she left or I would've followed her, no matter what arguments she gave. I had her take my car the night she came to say goodbye. She made me promise not to look for her, she said it was a matter of life and death for both of us.”
I closed my eyes for a beat, then whispered, “It was.”
“I didn’t understand at the time, but I knew she wasn’t the frivolous party girl everyone made her out to be. She was every bit as shrewd and clever as her mother. I always thought she’d come back home eventually. I didn’t realize that would be the last time I ever saw her, but she refused to let me come with her.”
“She was a stubborn woman,” I said with a teary laugh.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved Missy. We might be strangers, Juliet, but now that I see you, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You’re all grown up and probably don’t need a father figure around, but maybe we can be friends?”
I swallowed twice, then threw my arms around him. Even Henry looked a little misty-eyed when I caught sight of him smiling at me over Callahan’s shoulder.
“Yes, yes to all of it,” I whispered.
When I finally let go of him, Callahan insisted I keep the picture. We exchanged phone numbers and another fierce hug before he departed. I stared down at the photo for a long time as the rest of the crowd dispersed, until Henry came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist.
“That was unexpected,” he said softly, “but what a perfect ending to a perfect day.”
“Yes, it was.”
I turned in his arms and held him tight. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or both. Even though the conflicting emotions threatened to bubble up out of me, the strength of Henry’s embrace helped me to hold it together.
A few stragglers came up to offer their congratulations on the cottage project and Henry reluctantly let go of me so I could thank them for coming. I wasn’t an outsider, not anymore—the town had claimed me as one of their own, a beloved granddaughter finally welcomed back to the hometown where she belonged.
My heart swelled with love for the man beside me and for the friends who’d helped me make a place for myself in Spruce Hill.
When Henry at last had me to himself, he took my hand and led me past the gardens, all the way down to the lake. He knew about my project, but I’d insisted he wait to see the big reveal along with everyone else. His arm looped around my waist, tugging me tight against his side, and I laid my head against his shoulder.
For a long time, we stood there together, enjoying the view of the water almost as much as we enjoyed the quiet companionship we'd found in one another.
“You were incredible today, Red. You are incredible. How’d I get so lucky?”
“It wasn’t luck,” I replied, “but I think it might be just what Nan would have wanted.”
He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Then I guess we better not let her down.”
With the lake stretching before us, the inn at our backs, and the future in our hands, I wholeheartedly agreed.