Epilogue
The church smelled faintly of lemon oil and old hymnals.
Someone had polished the pews until the wood gleamed, and jars of wild iris and fireweed lined the narrow aisle in careful symmetry. Lottie’s blue ribbons tied around each jar added a touch of whimsy. The light through the tall windows turned everything soft and gold.
May stood beside Ophelia and Daisy in the tiny side room while Amka faced the mirror.
Amka might be the most beautiful bride to ever don a white dress.
The heavy satin shimmered softly in the warm light, falling in a clean, modest line from her fitted bodice to the floor.
The gown was old-fashioned in the best way, with long lace sleeves that buttoned at the wrists and a high neckline edged in delicate pearl beading.
The skirt flared gently at her hips before settling into a graceful sweep behind her.
Her black hair had been brushed until it shone like polished obsidian, then gathered low at the nape of her neck in a smooth chignon. A simple fingertip veil flowed from a comb tucked just above it, the sheer fabric beautiful and soft.
Daisy dabbed at her teary eyes. “You don’t even look real,” she whispered.
Ophelia adjusted the tiny row of buttons along Amka’s spine. “It fits like it was made for you.”
“It does,” May said softly.
Amka drew in a slow breath and met May’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s really happening.”
May stepped forward and smoothed the front of the skirt, her throat tight. “Yeah, it is.”
The bridesmaid dresses were fabulous, thanks to newcomer Lottie, the most amazing seamstress in the world. Lottie had found the perfect fabric and battled it into submission over the last two days, stitching until her fingers were sore and every seam lay flat and clean.
Their gowns were a deep river-blue silk that caught the light like moving water.
The bodices fit close without squeezing, and the skirts fell in a straight, graceful line to the floor.
There was no lace and no extra embellishment, just strong lines and rich color.
The blue brought warmth to Ophelia’s hair and made Daisy’s eyes look even greener.
Around each of their wrists rested the same bracelet Amka had given them that morning.
The stones were a rich Arctic blue, hand-cut and polished smooth, set into heavy silver shaped in subtle wave patterns.
Amka had told them the stones symbolized water and endurance, the current that carried her people for generations and the strength it took to survive it.
Water meant life in her culture. It meant connection and coming home.
May turned her wrist and felt the cool weight of the stone against her pulse.
The bracelet was solid and steady, not delicate.
It suited her. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and met her reflection steadily.
The woman staring back looked stronger than she had a year ago, steadier, and very much where she was meant to be.
The music started, and she stilled. Ace was out there. In a tuxedo.
She walked out into the sanctuary with her friends.
The church was full. Not politely full. Packed.
Fishermen in clean shirts sat beside women in floral dresses.
A couple of tourists slipped in and looked delighted and confused, including the Thompsons, all wearing new flannels.
They were flying out the next day but had already rented one of the homes for the same time next year.
Christian stood at the front with his brothers.
And there he was. Ace in a tux. May’s knees actually wobbled.
He wore it like he’d been born in one, not like a man who preferred boots and worn denim.
The black jacket cut clean across his shoulders, the white shirt sharp against his skin, and his bow tie perfectly tied. His hair was combed back but not tamed.
When his gaze landed on her, his expression changed and his eyes warmed. A lot. His gaze moved from her face down the length of her dress and back up again, slow and appreciative.
Heat settled low and steady in her stomach. She continued her walk down the aisle and then took her place opposite him as Amka walked down to “Here Comes the Bride.”
“You look good,” he mouthed.
“So do you,” she mouthed back.
“I know.” His lips curved.
She almost laughed.
The ceremony was short and real. Christian’s voice shook when he said Amka’s name. Amka steadied him by gripping his hand. When they kissed, the entire church exhaled at once and then applauded like they were at a hockey game.
Outside, Main Street had transformed.
Long tables stretched from one end of town to the other, white cloths pinned down against the breeze. Lanterns hung from light posts. Kids ran barefoot between chairs. Gus had commandeered two grills and hired a bunch of the teenagers to serve.
It was absolutely perfect.
May slipped off her heels within ten minutes.
Ace appeared at her elbow as she reached for a glass of champagne.
“You gonna behave?” she asked.
He looked down at her bare feet. “No promises.”
She bumped his shoulder with hers.
“You all right?” he asked quietly.
She met his eyes. There was no shadow in them tonight.
No tightness. “Yes.” After giving their statements to the troopers, they’d spent the last two days sleeping and healing.
Brock had managed to fish Peter out of the river, and now he and Kyle were already in Anchorage, sitting in cells.
Jack’s body had been delivered to the medical examiner for an autopsy.
The charges had been dropped against Ace. “I’m feeling fantastic.”
He studied her a second longer than necessary. “You sure?”
“I’m not fragile,” she said.
“I know.”
“Stop hovering.”
He leaned closer. “I will not.”
She smiled.
They moved through the reception easily.
Daisy cornered Christian for a legal joke no one else understood.
Damian was deep in conversation with three elderly women who looked delighted, although his gaze kept scanning the various crowds.
Looking for Stella, no doubt. Brock stood near Ophelia, not saying much, just watching her like he always did.
The first dance began under strings of lights.
Christian held Amka carefully at first, then she rolled her eyes and pulled him closer. The town laughed.
Ace’s hand settled at May’s waist. “You ready for a spin, Doc?”
“Absolutely.” She moved into the dance with him, leaning into his strength.
He held her even closer. “I talked to Smitty yesterday.”
She blinked up at him. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I’m not done,” he said. “With flying.”
Her heart warmed right up. “I didn’t think you were.”
He searched her face carefully. “Smitty thinks I should take some time before making any big life decisions.”
Probably good advice. “Okay.”
“Smitty’s wrong. I’m moving on with my life.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
He twirled her and then pulled her back. “I’m starting a floatplane service with charter runs. I can do medical transport if needed.”
She grinned. “That’s convenient.”
“And I’m moving forward with my personal life.”
Her heart stuttered. “You have one of those?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Yeah. You’re it. Oh, we’re going to date, have some fun, have our first fight, make up, and all of that. But at the end of this year, you’re gonna be wearing my ring.”
Whoa. He sure didn’t play games. She leaned up and kissed his already shadowed jaw. “We’ll see just how romantic you can be.”
“Challenge accepted.” He took her mouth, easily moving with the music. They finished that dance and moved into another, in the middle of Main Street.
The music shifted to a faster beat. Kids pulled Amka into a circle. Someone started clapping off-beat.
Brock moved toward the center of the street.
May noticed because Ophelia noticed.
Brock didn’t draw attention easily. He wasn’t flashy and didn’t posture. When he stepped into the open space between tables, people gradually quieted out of curiosity rather than command.
May frowned. “What’s he doing?”
Ace smirked, turning them to face Brock. “I think you’re about to find out.”
Brock cleared his throat once. “Can I have everyone’s attention for a second?”
The town hushed, which was no small feat.
Christian grinned, holding his bride close near the cake, which had already been cut. “You stealing my spotlight?”
“Shut up,” Brock said mildly.
Laughter rippled.
Brock turned to Ophelia. “You came here chasing a case, and you stayed for reasons that are obvious to anybody who’s seen me without my shirt.”
Ace groaned.
Ophelia chuckled, her blue eyes glimmering.
Brock smiled. “You don’t scare easy, and you don’t bend for anyone. Ophelia, you’ve made my life calmer and better in ways I didn’t see coming.”
May felt her own pulse pick up.
Brock reached into his jacket pocket. He dropped to one knee, still looking powerful in his tuxedo. “I don’t want you anywhere else,” he said. “Marry me.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. She gulped. A light flush covered her cheekbones. “Brock.” Then she blinked. “Yes. I mean. Yes.”
Brock flipped open the box.
Ophelia dropped her gaze and gasped, looking at the ring. “Definitely yes,” she murmured.
May craned her neck to see. Wow. That was at least three carats.
Brock slid the ring onto her finger and stood, kissing her deeply.
The town exploded.
May laughed and snuggled into Ace’s side. “You knew,” she accused.
“Of course I knew. That’s my brother,” Ace said easily. “Don’t worry. I can be way more romantic than that. Just wait.”
Her abdomen rolled right over. “I love you, Ace Osprey.”
“I know.” He winked. “Love you, too.”
She settled in, finally finding her home with a man who wasn’t done chasing the sky. And she’d be right here, in little Knife’s Edge, every time he landed.
Make sure you catch up with the Osprey brothers in Damian’s story, Shadow of Fall.