EPILOGUE
“So, you’re staying? For real?” Ivy says, her blue eyes bright with excitement but also suspicion.
“Yes, I’ll still travel for work and pleasure, but Wilmington will serve as home base,” I explain to the group assembled around the rear deck of the fairy house.
The fans Christie installed swirl overhead, taking the edge off the humidity.
The solar-powered twinkle lights pop on across the backyard, over the garden paths, inside the greenhouse, and along the deck.
Everyone smiles, as if marking the start of a pleasant evening.
“That’s wonderful news, sweetheart,” Fred says, squeezing Maggie closer by the shoulders. “Ain’t it, Mags?”
“Wonderful,” she repeats with an easy smile on her face.
“Good thing we upgraded that mattress up there,” Christie says.
“We’re delighted to have you,” Dad says.
“Oh, I’m not staying here. I mean, for now, yes. Thank you. But not for long.”
“Are you moving in with me and Olly?” Henry perks up, his lopsided smile widening with the idea. “We’d love—”
“No, I’m not doing that either, but thank you for the offer.
” The group stares expectantly, awaiting my explanation.
“I have money saved. I want a house with a yard and a garden. I want a greenhouse, an art room, a study, and a porch.” I turn to Henry, locked at my side, and hope he’s not disappointed.
“Your apartment is very nice, but it simply won’t accommodate me. Oh, and I want a dog.”
“AHHHHHHH! Buster’s getting a cousin?” Ivy yells, rousing the dog at her feet. He yaps his usual “what” as if he missed my big announcement.
“Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll invest in air purifiers so you and Olly will be comfortable staying with me, because I want you to stay frequently. I’m thinking Olly’s room should have an archaeological theme, but I’m open to discussion.”
“A dog? My own room?” Olly recaps, abruptly stopping his race around the deck with Mango flying through the air. “Can we get one just like Buster? Can I have a bunk bed? Can we paint stars on the ceiling?”
“Maybe, maybe, and yes,” I answer.
Satisfied, he flies Mango around the deck again, this time with Buster in tow.
“Ivy, will you accompany Olly and me to pick out my new pet, since you’re more experienced?” I say.
She bounces on her sparkly sandals, the ruffles in her skirt swaying, before she takes my hand and spins me around like we did in the parking lot. “I’d be happy to! We can take our dogs to Grady for check-ups and spa days—”
The doorbell interrupts her dancing.
“Oh, speaking of the Tripp family, that’s Gil.” She rushes along the deck to greet him at the front door.
Christie rounds the group with wine, refilling our glasses. He wears a green scarf around his neck that reminds me of my collection. He leans in to whisper, “He’s a dreamboat, Vee. I’m so happy for you.”
“Me, too. I’m glad you came home early, Christie.”
He waves his free hand with a flourish. “Well, I missed your dad, and I was jealous about your self-care slumber party. Besides, Wren wanted to travel to Scotland for a druid ceremony, anyway. But she predicted that you’d find your true escape before she left—she’s always been somewhat of a soothsayer.
It won’t surprise her, but she’ll be thrilled that you’ve ended up with your fern guy after all! ”
“Fern guy?” Henry asks, as Ivy returns to the deck with Gil behind her.
“Oh, no! I mean, was I not supposed to say?” Christie’s eyes dart from Henry to me. “Me and my big mouth.”
Ivy rushes over, her brow peaked. “You didn’t tell him?”
Henry twists in my direction. “Tell me what?”
“I discovered a new species of fern and named it after you.”
“What?” he gapes.
I point to the spindly fern with brown flowers, like dandelion heads, wrapping my calf and moving up my leg. “Henry’s fern.”
He looks aghast. “You named a fern after me?”
“Yes.”
“That you discovered?”
“It’s not uncommon for a botanist to discover a new variety. About thirty percent of—”
Henry kisses me—hands to my face, lips pressed on mine, his tongue taking a gentle dip into my mouth. I laugh, returning his affection amid the hoots and claps of our observers.
“On that note, I’ll grab the lasagna,” Christie says.
“I’ll get the salad. I love eating alfresco,” Maggie says, following him inside.
The crowd disperses to arrange our dinner. But Henry stays with me.
“You’ve been holding out on me. That’s so fucking romantic,” he whispers at my lips.
“Oh, no. Not romantic. Practical,” I counter. “The plant needed identification.”
He chuckles. “I’ve turned you into a romantic. You’re romancing me.”
“No, I’m not. Romance is a construct of novels and rom-coms. It’s not real.”
“Then how do you explain the weak feeling in my knees and the butterflies in my stomach? What would you call it?”
“Medical distress?” I try, not wanting to give him complete satisfaction. Still, I feel my cheeks turning pink with his attention. I love this game we play.
“The only distress I’m feeling is how long I have to wait to get you naked again,” he says in my ear before nibbling my earlobe. “Will you stay at mine tonight?”
My lips part to say yes, but Ivy bursts through the sliding glass doors with more wine and the crowd following behind her, and announces, “Gil and I are moving in together,” as if she can no longer contain the news.
A second round of excitement and well-wishes commences. Christie claps while Dad says, “Wonderful news!”
Henry offers his congratulations while sneaking sexy glances at me. We settle around the table, heaping our plates with lasagna, salad, and bread over our excited conversations.
I’ve never seen our family this animated and happy for each other.
Growing up, it always felt like an every-person-for-themselves existence, each in our separate corners.
I recall Ivy’s distress over us and what she called our “weirdness.” Why can’t we go to football games?
Or have a TV? Or get our nails done, like normal people?
To which Dad, rubbing his chin, pushed up his glasses, and said, “Hmm. Why would we want to be normal people, Ivy?”
Trying to be “normal” is rather miserable.
Whenever I tried, I only wanted to escape the straitjacket confines of it.
Even Ivy, with her team of friends, found herself disappointed by trying to fit in and live up to societal ideals.
In the end, those friends scattered like dried leaves.
Now she has the friends she chooses rather than the ones she had to work to keep, and her roots. Us.
Now, I like our roots. If I had a second chance at growing up, I’d choose more of us embracing our weirdness together rather than fighting it apart. Weird, but true to ourselves and each other.
Around this table now, that’s what we’re doing.
Our significant others have taken our loose strings and tugged them all together, knotting and binding us.
As Henry leans close like he can’t drift too far away, I bask in the beauty of our tightly knit pocket.
I’m warm, safe, loved, perfectly myself, and exquisitely happy.
And that’s not vagueness or my subconscious claiming an elusive and ultimately impossible happily-ever-after.
It’s a simple fact. One that is conveniently corroborated by my delightfully blue mood ring.
“So, what happened to your arm?” Gil asks Olly as he struggles to grip his fork with his obtrusive cast.
“It was awesome!” Olly gushes. “I climbed up a gigantic tree, super high. I could see over the tent, and in a bird’s nest, and...”
Nerves rise as Olly explains his misadventure with such enthusiasm. Images of him climbing a tree again, only to fall and break his other arm, fill me with angst.
“…the bark was rough. Next time, I’ll—”
“But Olly.” My gentle interruption happens simultaneously with Henry’s, saying the same thing.
We lock eyes, and feeling like I’ve overstepped, I say, “Sorry. Please,” and motion for him to go on.
He laughs. “No, go ahead. It’ll mean more coming from you.”
With a smirk, I address Olly. “Remember our talk about tree-climbing?”
Olly’s lopsided smile appears. “That I shouldn’t do it without you?”
“Exactly. We’ll start smaller next time with safety measures in place… and only when you’re healed. Adventures are fun, but only if they’re safe.”
“Okay, Venus,” Olly says with only slightly less excitement.
Satisfied that he’s heeded my reminder, I take a breath and glance at the rest of the table. Everyone stares at me, surprised.
Well, except for Christie, who tears up and waves a scarf to dry his eyes. “What a sweet teaching moment.”
“Hmm, well said, Venus,” Dad quips while the others smile warmly.
Henry’s hand slides over my thigh under the table. “I couldn’t have said it better.”
Warmth spreads through me as I bask in their approval and the sweet realization that this is where I belong, with my family.