Epilogue
Ian
One year later
The new barn smells like fresh cedar planks, which makes sense given that I built it with my own two hands over the summer.
Julia wanted something open and airy, a space where pups could tumble around on rainy days when it’s too muddy in the woods.
What she got was a two-story, timber-framed structure with massive sliding doors that open onto the creek, a loft for napping, and a huge stone fireplace to warm up brisk mornings and chilly evenings.
Today, the main open space is filled with long wooden tables covered in white linens and loaded with food supplied by both sides of our family.
Galbi and salmon. Kimbap and bannocks. My huckleberry pie sits next to a massive pot of tteokguk that Samantha and Molly made.
A towering wedding cake is surrounded by a rainbow of rice cakes for the doljanchi, the Korean first-birthday celebration.
“Hold still, would you?” Ben growls as he knots my tie, like we’re still pups getting ready for school.
“It’s too tight.” I tug at it, ruining his work for the second time.
“It’s a necktie. That’s how it’s supposed to feel.
” He ties it again and then steps back and surveys me with a critical eye.
My oldest brother has never been one for sentimentality, but I catch the slight softening around his muzzle.
He claps me on the back. “You clean up nice, little brother. She’s a lucky woman. ”
“I’m the lucky one.”
He snorts but doesn’t argue, because he knows I’m right.
Through the open barn doors, I can see our guests mingling on the mossy lawn.
The whole Lyall clan turned out, all five of my older brothers with their mates and pups, plus Conall and Meg with their four and plenty of our extended family, too.
Eomma, Ma, and Pa are holding court near the dessert table, Pa telling some story that has Nicole doubled over with laughter while Heidi rolls her eyes.
Samantha and Molly are doing their best to herd the pups.
The pups. Gods, the pups are everywhere.
Our three are the youngest of the Lyall grandchildren, but they’re keeping up with their cousins just fine.
I spot Isla’s red fur flash past the window as she chases Conall’s oldest, Hawthorn, toward the creek.
Her brothers are right behind her, Gavin’s black-tipped tail streaming like a banner, Graham bringing up the rear with his characteristic determination.
They’re only a year old, but they’re already getting into everything and giving their mother and me more gray hairs.
I wouldn’t trade a single moment of it.
“It’s time.” Sean appears at my elbow, grinning his usual grin. “I’ve been informed that your bride is ready.”
My bride. Julia. My mate, my partner, my best friend. The mother of my children. And in about ten minutes, my wife.
The ceremony is small and simple, just the way we wanted it. Julia walks down the aisle between her daughters, radiant in a cream-colored dress that flows around her like water. Her dark hair is pinned up with flowers, the multiplying silver strands catching the light.
When she reaches me, I take her hands in mine and forget every word I planned to say.
“Hi,” she whispers, her dark eyes bright with tears.
“Hi yourself, pretty girl.”
The officiant binds our hands together, and then we share our vows.
We wrote them ourselves, trading drafts back and forth for weeks until we got them right.
Julia promises to keep me fed and keep me honest, to laugh at my jokes even when they’re terrible, to build a life with me that’s bigger than either of us imagined.
I promise to protect her and cherish her, to support her dreams and share her burdens, to love her fiercely every single day we have together.
To make it official, we share a drink from my family’s silver quaich, the wedding cup that has been used by generations to mark the beginning of their lives together. Every couple who has sipped from the Lyall quaich has had a long and happy marriage, and I know ours will be no different.
Then we kiss, our families erupting into cheers and howls.
The reception flows seamlessly from the handfasting ceremony, tables rearranged, music starting up, food being passed around.
It’s a good thing Julia and I are still tied together, or I think I’d lose track of her as she’s swept up in conversation with her daughters and friends and new sisters-in-law and our moms, all of them exclaiming over her dress and her ring and the way I looked at her during the vows.
My brothers and Pa find me eventually. Ben hands me a whiskey without being asked.
“To the last Lyall bachelor,” Sean says, raising his glass. “Finally off the market.”
“I was never on the market,” I remind him. “I was just waiting for my mate.”
“Glad you finally found her.” Will claps me on the shoulder, his grip warm and firm. “I know how much you wanted this.”
“We’re happy for you, Ian. Truly,” Marc adds earnestly. “And happy for her that her ex is behind bars. He didn’t deserve her.”
Greg nods, quiet as usual. He’s watching his own mate across the room, the soft look on his face one I recognize intimately. We Lyall men love hard and love forever. It’s written in our blood.
“Speech!” Conall shouts, climbing on a chair, glass raised high. “The groom owes us a speech!”
“Get down from there before you break something,” Meg calls from across the room, but she’s laughing.
Julia and I make our way to the front, our pups tagging after us.
Isla hangs onto the back of her mom’s dress, yelling to be picked up.
Gavin chews on the sleeve of his tiny suit jacket, trying to pull off the buttons with his sharp little milk teeth.
Sturdy Graham, a head taller than the other two, is the only one behaving himself, his dark eyes taking in the crowd with solemn curiosity.
“I’m not much for speeches,” I begin, and someone, probably Sean, yells something uncomplimentary that makes everyone laugh. “But I want to say a few things.”
I look at Julia, at our children, at the room full of people who showed up to celebrate with us.
“A year ago, I walked into a bookstore and met the woman I’d been waiting my whole life for.
She was reading a story to a bunch of kids who were entranced by her.
” Julia reaches down to hold Isla’s hand, and I catch a glimpse of her smile.
“I was captivated, too. I knew right then that she was special. I just didn’t know how special. ”
I take a breath, steadying myself so I can finish what I have to say. She squeezes my hand, and I know that even after we cut the tie that binds us together ceremonially, she’ll always be there by my side.
“Meeting Julia taught me that it’s never too late.
Never too late to find your mate. Never too late to start a family.
Never too late to build the life you always dreamed of.
” I reach out and cup her cheek, brushing away the tear that’s escaped down her face.
“She taught me that sometimes the best things are worth waiting for. And she was worth every single day.”
The room is quiet now, even the pups settling.
“So thank you,” I continue, turning to address our guests. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for welcoming Julia and her girls into the Lyall pack. Thank you for loving our pups as fiercely as we do. This family, this pack we’re building together, it’s everything I ever wanted.”
I raise my glass.
“To Julia. My mate. My beautiful wife.”
“To Julia!” the room echoes, and then the pups squirm free and the music starts up again and Julia is in my arms, kissing me like we’re alone instead of surrounded by a hundred of our closest relatives.
“I love you,” she murmurs against my lips.
“I love you more.”
“Impossible.”
We’re interrupted by a commotion near the doljabi table, where the traditional first-birthday items have been laid out for the pups to choose from.
Their pick is supposed to indicate their life path.
Things like a pencil for academic success.
A coin for wealth. Thread for longevity.
A stethoscope for medicine and a wooden spoon for cooking and so forth.
And, because Julia insisted, a tiny book for a love of reading.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me toward the table. “Let’s see what our pups choose for their futures.”
It takes some doing to wrangle all three of them in front of the spread.
Isla Ji-Min goes first, because she’s the oldest by a few minutes and has very strong opinions.
I think she might choose the pencil because she loves to scribble on things, but she bypasses it, heading straight for the colorful spool of thread.
“Long life,” Eomma says, nodding. “A blessing.”
Gavin Seong-Min is next, and he lunges for the coin with both hands, clutching it like a dragon hoarding treasure. The room laughs, and I hear Pa joke that we better start a college fund now.
Graham Jun-Min approaches the table thoughtfully, considering each item in that serious way he has. Finally, he reaches out and picks up the little storybook, cradling it gently to his chest.
Julia makes a choked-up sound. “Aw, we’re going to have a reader. I knew it.”
Graham promptly tears a page out of the book, which brings the house down with laughter.
My wife leans into me, and I wrap my arm around her waist, watching our pups toddle back to their cousins with their chosen items, delightedly showing them off. The party continues around us, raucous and joyful.
“I can’t believe this is my life,” Julia says quietly. “Eighteen months ago, I was resigned to being miserable. I thought my best years were behind me. I thought I’d never feel wanted again.”
“And now?”
She looks up at me, her dark eyes shining. “Now I have everything. A husband who adores me. Five amazing children. A business I love. A family that keeps growing.”
She gestures around the barn, at the space that’s become the heart of her new preschool, Pups & Pages.
It’s fully enrolled with Lyall grandchildren alone, twelve little ones (including ours) who spend their days splashing in the creek and collecting sticks and napping by the fire while Julia reads them stories.
She earned her early childhood education certificate last spring and summer while I was building the barn, and she’s never been happier than the day it opened for the fall semester.
“You built this,” I remind her. “I just provided the lumber.”
“You provided a lot more than lumber, and you know it.” She stretches up on tiptoes to kiss my jaw. “You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. You saw who I could be before I did.”
“I saw who you already were. That’s how I knew you were my mate.”
Across the room, Samantha teaches Conall’s eager pups a Korean folk song, complete with hand movements.
Molly is deep in conversation with Sean’s mate about art school, gesturing enthusiastically with a half-eaten rice cake.
My parents are slow-dancing near the fireplace, Pa’s gray muzzle resting on Mam’s head, forty years of love in every swaying step.
Heidi and Nicole are walking hand-in-hand by the creek outside.
This is what I built the cabin for. What I built the barn for. What I’ve been building toward my whole life. And still, it’s better than I thought it would be.
Julia’s hand finds mine, our fingers threading together. “Happy?” she asks.
“More than I dreamed possible.”
We stand there together, watching our families and friends merge and mingle, our children run and play, our life unfold in ways neither of us could have predicted.
The woman who’d lost hope for her future and the wulver who’d almost given up on finding his mate.
Little did we know that we were destined for all this.
Fated late, but fated all the same.
And gods, was it worth the wait.