32. Epilogue
Epilogue
Adam
I back my pickup truck out of the driveway and onto the country road in front of our house, pausing to take in the freshly painted white picket fence I recently added to our property.
Thanks to the exorbitant amount of money we acquired from the Pierre Jardot perfume campaign, we’ve been able to give the exterior of the farmhouse a major overhaul, complete with a covered front porch, refurbished windows, and an entirely new color scheme.
The white clapboard siding matches the fence line, and the dark blue shutters are a nice contrast with the metal roof.
Removing the old barbed wire fencing out front was a good call, as was updating the landscaping.
Colorful azalea bushes line the brick walkway, and Keri and I planted a tree in the front yard, commemorating our first year together; a Southern Live Oak.
We were told it’s hard to beat an oak, especially since it’s the official state tree of Georgia.
It’s majestic, beautiful, and represents stability and permanence.
And now, I’m officially a permanent Georgia resident. I’ve got the driver’s license to prove it. I’m not going anywhere. Not without Keri.
I drive through town with the windows down, Molly’s head out the passenger window. Having a pickup truck while planting roots here feels right. The camper van stays parked on the property, and Keri and I have logged thousands of miles in it over the last year. We have no desire to slow down.
I honk my horn and wave at Miss Jenny serving a table outside her café. She throws a hand up in the air, her wide smile hard not to notice from under her signature wide-brimmed hat. She points at her wristwatch, and I nod with vigor.
I glance at Keri’s former office across the street: shades down, doors locked.
She no longer works at her real estate business.
It’s officially closed. She still owns the building and stores her pageant gowns upstairs.
Downstairs, we’ve turned the space into a photography gallery and studio for our biggest collaboration yet:
Halo Studios.
It’s a nod to our partnership, our stories melding into one. Natural and free-spirited, it evokes our answered prayers. Soon, we’ll open the gallery to the public, showcasing our favorite larger-than-life photographs.
One shot shows Keri dancing on Atlantic Beach in a periwinkle gown, storm clouds overhead.
Forest images include a sunrise photo from my California property that won first place at the International Photography Awards.
Keri was with me that day. The vivid greens and blue sky were captivating as I lay on a boulder to capture the image, focusing on happier memories.
Not all of the photos in our gallery include Keri.
Many are nature shots I’ve taken over the last few years during my vagabond days on the road, the pain in those moments perceptible.
Several more pageant gown shots amidst glimmers of dancing light at sunrise and sunset while on our cross-country adventures, complete the collection.
All are achingly memorable, all taken through the lens of someone who has finally found his light after the storm.
Keri is my light.
As I near the highway, I notice the new billboard for the Lavender Festival at Jamison Farm.
The image is one of the first I took of Keri after we met.
When George Jamison hired me for a billboard photo, we agreed that Keri’s image from last year’s festival was perfect.
She gladly became the unofficial spokesmodel, her photo now on billboards near the Heartsboro exit.
I can still remember that day strolling through the purple paradise together.
Keri was nervous, trying to act casual as she ran her fingers along the tops of the lavender plants.
Her smile unfurled slowly as I talked her into letting her hair down, her giggles infectious as I followed her through the pathways with her skirt billowing around her bare knees.
Among the streaks of violet and purple, I captured a side of Keri clearly enjoying herself.
An image that any potential tourist might stop and take notice.
Now, her blissful, bashful, angel face is for all of Heartsboro to see.
After Pierre Jardo approached us last summer, she reassured me time and again that she has no regrets about passing on his global campaign offer.
The Frenchman reluctantly agreed to a handful of Feather Falls photos while we maintained the legal copyrights, the gorgeous images for the high-end perfume ending up in magazines ads and department stores.
I’m truly blessed by her dedication to me and our brand. Together, we’re a dream team.
The asphalt gives way to dirt, the undercarriage of my truck picking up dust, and my hair swirling wildly around my clean-shaven face. I make a bold left turn on Paradise Road and continue toward my final destination.
Now, it’s lavender season again at Jamison Farm. The violet meadows await harvest, and the intoxicating scent drifts beneath my nose on the breeze. I inhale the soothing fragrance, prepared to embrace this next vital step in my life.
I’m going to ask Keri to marry me.
I park next to Ridge Wilson’s truck, relieved that his family is here.
I’ve schemed with Ridge, George, and Madison to plan this surprise proposal.
Keri thinks we’re having dinner with friends to celebrate the unofficial start of the Lavender Festival this weekend.
She has no idea I’m about to propose. At least, I hope she doesn’t.
“Hey, Adam. I saw you pull up and thought I’d give you the run-down.” Madison, out of breath, greets me, her pregnant belly protruding beneath her sundress.
I climb out of my truck, Molly at my heels, and my camera around my neck. “Maddy, you don’t need to be rushing around in your condition.”
She waves me off. “I’m fine. I’ve still got six weeks to go. Come on.”
“Where’s Keri?”
“She’s inside with the Wilsons and George, distracted by the new photos on our website. I wanted to show you the barn before we coax her into the lavender fields.”
Madison and Beverly insisted on hosting a dinner after my proposal.
With Miss Jenny, Janie, Mr. Garcia, his staff, and dear friends, including surprise guests Candace and April, it’s sure to be special.
The only ones missing are Roxy and Justin.
Like Madison, my cousin is pregnant and can’t travel.
She’s sad to miss it, but we’ll FaceTime and plan to visit after the baby arrives.
I slide open the barn door and take in the scene in front of me.
A large rectangular table sits in the center of the barn, tea lights ready to be lit among fragrant gardenia flowers in bud vases peppered across a cerulean tablecloth.
Swooping strands of Edison-style lighting cast a soft glow, and the antique place settings with scalloped white edges are another detail borrowed from the china cabinet of George’s late grandmother, Rosie.
The romantic atmosphere is exactly how I pictured it.
I gently squeeze Madison’s shoulder. “This is even better than I imagined.”
“Really?” Her face shines with her pregnancy glow.
“Yes. Thank you for going to all this trouble. Keri is going to love it.”
“I’m glad. It was no trouble with everyone helping. Miss Jenny will arrive soon with the food caravan. You’d better get this show on the road before Keri gets suspicious.”
“Okay.” I hand her my camera. “George remembers how to use this, right?”
Maddy’s smile is gentle and full of love. “He won’t let you down. He’s already picked out his hiding place near the windmill. Thanks for trusting him.”
“He’s a great friend—all of you are.” I feel my throat tighten and cough. “Molly and I will get in place.”
“Okay. I’ll give this to George and tell Keri you need her in the lavender field.”
“What if she asks why? What will you tell her?”
Madison giggles, my camera resting on her belly. “I’ll say you have an idea and need her take on it.”
“Sounds reasonable.” I watch Madison waddle outside. I take in the romantic dinner scene once more before sliding the barn doors shut and heading to the lavender fields.
“This is it, Molly. Wish me luck.”
Molly barks once, making me laugh. I run my hands over the lavender, inhaling the scent on my skin.
At the end of the graveled path, Molly sits at my feet.
I touch the front pocket of my jeans, feeling the box with the diamond ring.
Clasping my trembling hands, I wait, hoping I don’t look out of place standing in the field.
The weight of every road here has taught me patience, and the quiet ache of missing someone who once shared my heartbeat.
But tonight is different. Tonight, hope has a new name. And her name is Keri.
Minutes tick agonizingly by, and then I see her. She’s standing on the hilltop, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze against the backdrop of the vivid red barn. My heart quickens at the sight of her as she holds her palm over her eyes and scans the horizon. I throw up a hand and wave her forward.
“Come to me, Angel Face,” I whisper into the wind.
Her gait is slow as she navigates the uneven terrain in her sandals, and her skirt moves to the gentle rhythm of her hips. She’s a vision of loveliness without even trying, dressed in her white peasant blouse and blue denim skirt. The puffy sleeves of her top remind me of wings.
“What are you doing out here? Madison said you have an idea.”
I watch her blue eyes scroll my face, her brow furrowing with confusion. I can see George in my peripheral vision, crouching low behind a bush near the windmill, the others slowly gathering on the hilltop behind Keri. I need to hurry before she notices everyone.
I clear my throat and reach for her hands, the familiar warmth grounding me. “I love you,” I stutter.
“I love you too, Adam.” The look in her eyes is one of kindness and endless patience.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be standing here again,” I say softly. “After everything that happened… I thought that part of my life had ended. But then you came along and saved me. You didn’t ask me to forget. You helped me remember how to live.”
Keri inhales a quick intake of air, realization registering on her face. “Oh, Adam.”
“I’ve lost, and I’ve learned. I’ve carried love and grief in the same heart. I thought I would never feel this way again. Ever. But you changed all that.”
Her eyes soften, filled with the kind of love that listens before it speaks.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a small velvet box.
I slowly sink to one knee. For a heartbeat, the world goes still, the evening settling into a gentle hush.
The lavender field is a strange harmony of peace and fear, of memory and hope.
I’ve loved before. Deeply and irrevocably.
And when that love was gone, the silence that followed felt endless.
For two years I drove the lonely highways, living as though joy belonged to others. Not to me.
But then Keri came into my life. From day one, she never asked me to forget. She simply stayed, patient with my pauses and gentle with the parts of me still learning how to trust the light again.
“I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find love twice,” I say, my voice cracking. “But you’ve shown me that hearts can heal and that love can begin again.”
Her tears slip free before her words do as she kneels in front of me. “I’ve never wanted to replace your past,” she whispers. “I just want to be part of your future.”
My lips tremble into a grateful smile. And for the first time in years, my heart feels light enough to soar.
“Keri, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she exhales loudly. “A thousand times, yes.”
The hilltop explodes with shouts of joy and applause from our friends. George stumbles out of his hiding place, clicking away with my camera like a pro, and Molly barks excitedly as I place the ring on Keri’s finger. I grab her face and pull her in for a long, passionate kiss.
What Keri and I have isn’t a simple love story.
It’s a bittersweet, enduring reminder that the most extraordinary things in this life are not the accolades or working with famous names, but the private moments.
A slow dance under twinkle lights. A whispered “I love you” under a sky full of stars.
A blue dress made with love by a grandmother who believed in the woman wearing it.
Two people who are imperfect, deeply human, and completely devoted choosing each other over and over again.
For as long as we have on this earth.
Later that night, long after the laughter and congratulations have faded, our farmhouse is still. The only sound is the soft ticking of the old clock in the hallway. A rhythm that once reminded me of passing time. And now? Now it feels like the steady heartbeat of a life still unfolding.
I stand in the doorframe of our bedroom, Keri’s engagement ring shining faintly on her hand as she sleeps. The moonlight spills across the floor in silver ribbons, touching everything with a calm so deep it almost feels sacred.
I think of my late wife, Mia. Her laugh and her kindness.
The quiet way she used to hum when she graded math papers.
I think of Evie and her funny faces, and the way she used to ask me a million questions.
Always curious. Always trusting my answers.
The love we shared as a family shaped me into the man I am today.
And I’m grateful. Grateful I had been loved once, and that somehow, impossibly, life has given me another chance to love again.
I look toward the bed where the woman who said yes to my proposal now dreams beneath the soft spill of luminous light. Her presence is a kind of peace I’ve never known. And it doesn’t replace what came before. It’s weaving its way into something new.
My smile is quiet and full. The kind of smile that belongs to someone who has finally found his way home.
And as the clock ticks on, I whisper into the stillness, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you… for all of them.”
THE END