Epilogue
Eleven Blissful Months Later
The Cranberry Vet Clinic hasn’t opened for the day yet.
Technically, my last day was two weeks ago—I had a baby shower and everything—but I’m having a hard time staying away even though I’m on maternity leave.
Not because I need to work, but because I love my little clinic.
It’s small, with only two exam rooms. The wood floors creak underfoot, and the wide windows along the front, fogged over with the warmth of the heater, let in the soft morning light.
It’s been nearly a year since my entire life changed, since I left New York and the Manhattan Vet Clinic and traded it all for Cranberry Hollow. My clientele is a fraction of what it was in the city, but that leaves me time for a life beyond appointments and charts.
I love it here.
I love Jamie, I love the girls, I love my new friends, and I even get to own my vet practice.
I’m reorganizing the supply closet when a familiar voice cuts through the quiet, startling me.
“Joy…” Jamie’s tone is amused but edged with worry. “What are you doing here?”
I freeze, then pivot, supplies clutched in my hands.
Caught.
He’s wearing a plaid jacket over a long-sleeve tee and my favorite jeans, the ones worn soft where his wallet usually sits in the back pocket. His beard has grown out enough that it now connects seamlessly with his mustache.
My sexy mountain man.
“I told you, I’m nesting!” I hold up a handful of scalpels as proof. “And you won’t let me nest at home.”
I grunt when he reaches for me and helps me straighten. My belly is heavy and round, the sweater stretched tight across its expanse. None of my clothes accommodate this new version of me, so I’m in Jamie’s sweatpants—the only clothing soft enough not to make me want to rip off my skin.
“You took the snowmobile,” he says, eyebrows raised.
“I was bored.”
“You’re forty weeks pregnant.”
“And you won’t let me do anything around the house.” So, I snuck out while he was in the shower.
“Because you’re supposed to be resting,” Jamie says, taking the scalpels from my hands and setting them on a shelf behind me.
“Thank you for calling me.” He nods toward Miriam, who’s sitting at her desk by the window, steam curling from her mug as she swivels in her chair.
I have to admit that seeing her settled among the bottles and charts, sipping her coffee, makes me so content.
Miriam came up in the spring to help me get the practice off the ground, right when I found out I was pregnant.
Now, she’s running it while I’m on maternity leave, though I know the truth: she wants to be here when the babies arrive.
There had been a line of veterinarians eager to take over the Manhattan Vet Clinic while she works part-time up here.
“You betrayed me!” I press my hands to my cheeks and glare at her with mock outrage.
Miriam laughs. “Winnie’s been giving me free coffee. I didn’t want to get on her bad side.”
Winnie.
I lasted six months living in Winnie’s spare apartment above the café before her pranks made me question my life choices. A fake snake on the doormat, eggs filled with slime, whale noises that kept me up at night…
I love her, but even I have limits.
By June, I was done. Jubilee and I packed ourselves up and moved into Jamie’s cabin, where the girls welcomed us like we’d been part of their lives forever.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
I narrow my eyes at Miriam. “I got you those mooncakes! I had them imported for your birthday! I thought you were on my side!” Tears prick my eyes, and I laugh and cry all at once.
“Damn pregnancy hormones.” I shake my head, smiling through it.
“But when I get back from maternity leave, we are going to have a serious talk about loyalty.”
“You think I’m staying away until you get back? I’ve been practicing casseroles.”
“Or is Bennie teaching you how to make them?” I fire back. “I know you’ve been secretly dating him.”
“The elementary school principal?” Jamie asks.
“Sue me. He’s hot.” Miriam shimmies her shoulders, her chair creaking beneath her. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be the newest resident of Cranberry Hollow.” She winks at me, then spins back to her desk, picking up her half-finished crossword.
Jamie places his large hands against my belly. “How are my girls?”
“They were due three days ago, Jamie.” I sigh, resting my hands on top of his.
Apparently, twins run in Jamie’s family, on his mother’s side. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to carry one child, let alone two. Already, I love them more than I can put into words, even though it feels like they’re clawing at my insides and stomping on my bladder.
Jamie spent the summer expanding the house to carve out new rooms for Honey and Kiki. They may have their own space now, but they still sneak into each other’s beds.
The sanctuary is thriving. Visitors started arriving this summer, bringing a little extra tourism to Cranberry Hollow and a boost to the local economy.
The old wooden pens have been restored, and all the vet supplies at the sanctuary are up to date.
Every reindeer—even the ten calves born this spring—has been adopted online.
Baby Selleck, already a solid one hundred pounds, trots confidently through the barn, a proud little commander among the newer arrivals.
“I know. They’re stubborn like their mom,” Jamie says softly, dabbing at tears I didn’t even realize were there. Funny how little things make me cry now. Yesterday, I wept for ten minutes over how tiny and perfect the newborns’ baby socks were.
“And now we’ve got to get going,” he continues. “First snowfall, and Honey and Kiki are already picking ornaments for decorating their outside tree.”
“Maybe the sleigh ride will induce labor!”
“We’re not taking that risk,” he says firmly, helping me into my jacket. “We’re decorating the one by the cabin.”
“To think a year ago, I was drunk emailing you, and now I’m the size of a polar bear with your children.”
“Our children,” he corrects.
“Yes, ours,” I echo, my hand resting instinctively on my stomach. “Five girls in the house soon. You sure you’re going to survive?”
“This is all I ever wanted,” he says simply.
By the time we reach the house, the snow is falling in thick flakes, dusting the ground in a soft, white blanket. Jamie helps me out of the truck, and the girls wave from the porch, their excitement radiant.
Over the next hour, we decorate a giant tree together next to the house.
Honey and Kiki work with quiet concentration, their small, gloved hands deliberately placing pink bows and ribbons between the branches.
It’s my first time joining this little family tradition, and I can’t help but wonder how many more years we’ll get to do this—how next year we’ll have two new little ones joining us.
I imagine their small footprints in the snow and burst into a new round of tears.
Jamie stretches to place the ornaments on the higher branches, his jacket rubbing against mine as I wobble on tiptoe, too pregnant to reach very high myself.
When a small contraction catches me by surprise, Jamie is immediately at my side, steadying me with gentle hands.
Finally, the tree glows under the soft sweep of string lights and all the pink ornaments we’ve tucked between the full branches.
Kiki sets up a tripod, then trots back inside to fetch Jubilee, returning with my fluffy little rabbit. I cradle JubJub while she munches happily on a stray piece of lettuce and blinks up at me with pure contentment.
The girls wrap their arms around my belly, giggling, while Jamie folds me into his side, his warmth enveloping all of us.
“Dad and Joy, can this be our Christmas card this year?” Honey asks, beaming as she gives bunny ears to her sister.
“Of course,” Jamie says.
“And…Joy?” Kiki starts. “We wanted to ask you something?”
“Maybe, sometimes, we can call you Mom?” Honey asks.
They’ve slipped up a few times over the last year, calling me Mom, but the combination of formality and sweetness makes my heart squeeze.
I can’t hold it in. Tears spring to my eyes, and I laugh through them. “Yes.”
Jamie presses soft kisses to my cheeks, and we all huddle together in a snug, tangled embrace.
In that moment, I am exactly where I want to be, surrounded by family and by love that doesn’t feel forced or complicated.
A year ago, I would have told myself that this life—this small, slow town, this makeshift family—wasn’t for me.
But here I am.
And it is more than I ever imagined.