Epilogue
CAPTAIN JOHN CALDER
Despite Mrs. Wickerton’s disapproval, Evelyn managed to convince everyone there was no need to rush the wedding.
It happened in spring, when the leaves on the trees were unfolding just enough to blanket Derbyshire in green, and when Britain was awakening not only from winter but from the darkness of a war that had raged for far too long.
It happened a week after the Amity arrived from America, bringing with it the sweetest of wedding gifts—Arthur and May.
I didn’t know if I would recognize the two of them, and I hadn’t been able to make them out when they came down the gangway, but the moment I saw them headed toward me in the crowd, they were unmistakable.
Underneath Arthur’s hat was the same face, and his energetic gait was the same, but it was as if someone had stretched him into a man.
The changes in May were more pronounced.
She’d only had a few of her adult teeth when she left, and they were too big for her face.
Now her smile was broad and full of them and she was dressed as a young woman instead of a child, even though at fourteen she was somewhere between the two.
My heart cracked at the sight of them and all the years we’d missed, but then they were in my arms and the years melted away.
We belonged to each other and no amount of time could break us apart.
A few days later, when we stepped through Applewood’s front door, it felt as if the home stretched and sighed with relief, preparing for the day it would fully awaken—the day I brought Evelyn home as my bride.
That happened four months ago, and now Applewood is full of life every day.
But the four of us aren’t at Applewood this morning.
“This is where the two of you met?” May’s eyes were wide and mischievous as she took in the small space and the sparseness of the shepherd’s croft. It turns out she was the perfect age to be completely fascinated by our story.
“Met is a rather kind way to say it.” Evelyn stepped through the open doorway with a smirk. “John stumbled in like a wild man, removing his clothes as he went.”
“It is a wonder she didn’t shoot you,” May quipped. She knew Evelyn had a gun that night, and she’d also had time to see how proficient Eveyln was with a firearm.
I scoffed. “She was deterred by my handsome face.”
Evelyn bumped my hip with hers. “I couldn’t even see your face. Not at first.”
I raised an eyebrow. “But once you did, all thoughts of shooting me fled.”
Evelyn tipped her head in concession. I’d heard her side of the story often, but I never grew tired of it. “True enough.” She grabbed May’s arm. “Your brother does have a rather unfortunately handsome face.”
May furrowed her brows. “Unfortunately handsome?”
“It isn’t much of a hardship now that I’ve married him, of course. But at the time?” Evelyn made an exaggerated shudder. “It was terrible.”
May still looked confused, and Arthur, who was just coming into some handsomeness himself, did as well. But I knew exactly what she meant. Waking up to someone as beautiful as Evelyn had shifted my whole universe at a time when I thought all my orbits were perfectly in place.
Arthur strode across the room and kicked the fireplace with his foot. “Not the most romantic of meeting places,” he said, as if he were the authority on romance at eighteen.
“I disagree.” May’s eyes were still happily exploring the small space. “You have to imagine it dark with the rain pounding down outside. And even without that, it is romantic because of how their story ended.”
Evelyn laughed. “Our story hasn’t ended quite yet.”
I came up from behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “We are only beginning to tell it.”
May seemed unconvinced, but also wise enough not to argue any further. She would hopefully understand someday that a wedding and a marriage was a starting mark, not a finish line.
We’d packed a simple picnic and spent the afternoon eating and laughing.
Arthur and May hadn’t mentioned returning to America in over a month, and in Father’s last letter he’d discussed the idea of having Arthur start at a university here and May stay at least a few more years so that she could be introduced into London society.
And why would they do either of those things unless they were planning to stay?
We finished the picnic and I handed the basket and blankets to Arthur and May. “See that these make it onto the horses. Evelyn and I have a tradition we need to take care of before we leave.”
“We do?” Evelyn asked innocently. It wasn’t our first time coming back to the croft, but it was our first time bringing anyone else here.
If she didn’t notice how hard it was to sit in this space without kissing her, she might be getting worse at reading my glances.
But based on the false look of wide-eyed confusion on her face, she noticed.
I pushed Arthur toward the door without taking my eyes off of Evelyn. “We do.”
Arthur and May had become quite adept at knowing when they should leave a room. Still, when they reached the door Arthur turned around. “If you two aren’t out of here in the next five minutes, May and I are going to leave.”
I grinned. “Well, I hate to waste even five minutes of your time. You may as well leave now.”
May chortled and pushed a disgruntled Arthur through the opening. The moment they were out of sight I laid down on the cold floor and motioned for Evelyn to sit beside me. She grinned. “We tried this the last time we were here. You aren’t going to remember.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try. You may even find it pleasant.”
She stepped forward with her head tipped to one side. “Alright. If you want to be authentic, you are going to have to make yourself look pale, clammy and ill.”
I nodded. Two could play at this game. “Should I also take off my shirt?”
With a shake of her head and a laugh that still made my chest swell every time I elicited it, she brushed her skirts to the side and sat down beside me.
“For the sake of Arthur and May, why don’t you keep your shirt on?”
“They’re gone. And they know better than to come back.”
“It is the middle of the day and there isn’t a storm cloud in sight.
I suppose we can forgo authenticity.” She pulled my head into her lap and her fingers went to my hair.
Her touch was as familiar as the warmth of a fire burning in Applewood’s hearth—as familiar as stepping through my own front door.
And yet, even with that familiarity, when her skin made contact with mine, it wasn’t only with a sense of restful arrival.
She would always be a delicate balance of home and adventure, of longing and holding, of the peaceful notes of soul-deep love and the heat of chronically ravenous desire.
Her neck curved into a graceful bow as she bent over me and I was completely lost in the spark in her eyes, the shine in her hair, and the beauty that shone down upon me. “It’s no wonder I kissed you.”
She dragged a finger down my cheekbone and then across my jaw before sliding her thumb along my bottom lip. “It’s no wonder I let you.”
I slipped my fingers up through the base of her hair and pulled her down to me, needing her lips on mine.
I didn’t have to pull hard. At the first tug, she dropped her head to meet me.
When our lips touched I tried to pull the memory of our first kiss out from the dregs of my mind, but it remained hidden.
I kissed her again and again, each time testing different angles, different pressures, sometimes with my hands in her hair and other times with my hands on her cheeks, but the moment was lost to me.
Evelyn’s hand slid down my neck and onto my chest. She fingered the buttons of my shirt, but I could feel the teasing smile on her lips. She was toying with me. This croft was too close to the road and the weather outside too cloudless for her to be quite that daring.
But that smile pressed against my mouth and those playful fingers pulled me completely away from our first moment together and into this one. I didn’t need to chase my past when my present was this delectable.
After several more moments, I lifted my head off the ground and tugged her head into my chest. “Have I told you how much I love that you and I share the same roof?”
“This one, or the one at Applewood?”
“Any roof where we are under, now that you mention it, but especially Applewood.”
“Not since yesterday.”
“That is an oversight.” I sat completely up, taking her with me. “Thank you for sharing my home and my life. Thank you for staying with me—not only that first night, but now. You didn’t only awake Applewood from a long slumber. You woke me as well.”
She pulled her head away from my chest but I snuggled her back up against me. With a laugh, she spoke into my waistcoat. “You're very welcome. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”
Years after that day at the waterfall, our children would complain about the fact that every time we traveled to London we made a stop at our lonely shepherd’s croft. They’d heard the story of how Evelyn and I met far too often, and were exasperated by the repetition of it.
But we never minded their complaints because behind them was an undeniable truth––we’d built a life where our children had been so blessed and surrounded by love, they had the luxury of finding it exhausting.
Every family should be so fortunate.