Epilogue
On the weekend of their first anniversary, Sophie put the garden photograph beside the blue jug.
Jesse had framed it himself after rejecting three frames that Sophie thought were perfectly adequate, and she had teased him until he admitted he wanted to get one thing exactly the way he pictured it.
In the finished photograph her head was tipped back in laughter, his hand at her waist, the white skirt caught on a rose thorn neither had noticed until Nina pointed it out.
Hank arrived with a pie from a bakery near his apartment. He had moved in June, taken only what he needed at first, and gradually returned for the rest. Lorraine still called Jesse to complain about what his father had taken, but Jesse no longer carried messages between them.
Jesse had spent the summer in the new workshop with both doors open because the roof held the heat.
The second van would have to wait another year, and he still complained about the rent when he sat down with the accounts.
Sophie had helped hang the sign on a Saturday morning, standing on the sidewalk to tell him when the lettering was level.
His mother’s name remained on the empty building across town until the new tenant painted over it in August.
“I kept the receipt,” Hank said, holding up the bag. “If it’s terrible, at least we’ll know where not to go.”
“Come in.” Sophie took it. “Kelly’s accusing Jesse of ruining the potatoes.”
The kitchen was crowded and warm. Marianne was cutting bread, Haley had opened wine, and Kelly stood beside the oven explaining something Jesse plainly disagreed with.
He caught Sophie’s eye over her sister’s shoulder and smiled, and she went to him long enough to kiss his cheek before finding another serving spoon.
Lorraine wasn’t coming. Jesse had told her who was invited, then spent part of Wednesday evening arguing about it before they went to bed cross with each other. Sophie had wanted him to end the call sooner; he had wanted her to stop standing in the doorway counting the minutes.
On Saturday morning Lorraine sent a photograph of herself in the sage dress. Sophie looked at it over Jesse’s shoulder while he was trying to find the recipe for the potatoes, then went to get the larger roasting pan from the garage.
When she came back, the recipe was open and the photograph had gone. He took the pan from her, discovered it wouldn’t fit beside the one already in the oven, and asked why they’d invited enough people to require both. She told him to move the shelf down while she finished peeling.
Sophie told Marianne about the new school year.
The museum had given her the program permanently in July, with a title that pleased her more than she admitted and enough paid hours for an assistant.
She still ran evening events when she had to, still argued about storage, and had stopped apologizing for how much space the children’s work occupied.
Jesse supplied the name of a school she couldn’t remember.
He had helped her pack the materials the night before, complaining about the number of scissors until she showed him how many had disappeared during the first trial.
Now he listened while she described the new group, smiling when she began talking with her hands.
After dinner, Haley caught the water glass with her elbow while reaching for the bread.
Jesse lifted the basket clear, Kelly grabbed the cloth from beside the sink, and Sophie moved the nearest plates out of the wet.
Haley swore at herself, then laughed when Marianne told her she’d done the same thing at lunch.
They changed the cloth and sat down again to finish the pie.
Later Hank helped carry chairs to the garage.
Sophie watched him and Jesse through the window, talking quietly beneath the light.
They still disagreed about old things, and sometimes Jesse came inside angry after a conversation with his father.
Tonight Hank said something that made Jesse smile, then held the door while his son carried the last chair through.
The guests left before ten. Kelly borrowed a container, Marianne kissed Sophie twice, and Haley hugged her long enough to whisper that the photographs looked beautiful. Sophie held her friend a little harder before letting go.
When the house was quiet, Jesse put on the wedding film.
Sophie sat beside him with her feet in his lap, watching the garden fill with people she remembered from another version of that day.
Lorraine appeared briefly in green, then the camera moved on to Marianne laughing while Kelly fixed her sleeve.
Sophie watched herself approach him at the end of the aisle. Beside her on the sofa, Jesse reached for her hand, and she held it while the officiant searched for the right page.
“I’d forgotten how windy it was,” she said. On the screen a leaf blew across the hem of her dress, and Jesse’s father bent to catch a program beneath his chair.
Jesse turned up the sound for Kelly’s speech. Sophie groaned at the story about the school concert, then laughed when the camera caught Marianne mouthing a correction from the front table.
They watched until the reception music began. Jesse put the remote down, lifted Sophie’s feet out of his lap, and stood to hold out his hand.
Sophie took his hand and let him pull her up, kicking a cushion out of their way. He drew her against him and moved her slowly around the edge of the rug, stopping when the hem caught beneath his heel. She pushed him back far enough to free it, then put her arms around his neck again.
The song finished before either of them sat down. Sophie reached for the remote, turned off the television, and followed him upstairs with her hand beneath the back of his shirt.
In the bedroom his clean shirts hung beside her dresses. Kelly’s spare key was in the drawer, and her sister had the only spare to their own front door. Sophie laid her dress over the chair and went to wash her face while Jesse pulled back the covers.
When she came back, he was lying on her side, warming it for her. She climbed in beside him before he could move over, pressed her cold feet between his legs, and kissed him while he was still complaining.