Epilogue
Macbeth
CHRISTMAS EVE, ONE YEAR LATER
“Thanks for doing this with me, Levi.”
He kisses me softly on the forehead. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Baby Jones.”
A small smile plays on my lips. "Baby Jones-Beshear."
We’re at the Christmas cabin, hours before everyone else. I need to do my Christmas ritual. But this time, I don’t feel so sad.
For one thing, I have my big, strong husband by my side. And though I know he won’t judge me if I sob uncontrollably like I have in years’ past, I don’t think it’ll come to that.
Because I have an ornament on the tree.
It seems fitting that Levi was the one to share that information with me. His memory gave me a piece of my mother.
And his love makes me whole.
One by one, I take the ornaments off the tree, holding each one in my hands. I feel you, Mom. It’s like Dad always said—your spirit is here in this cabin.
When I reach my ornament, I pause. Something’s… different.
I remove it from the tree, brushing it gently with my thumb. But now there’s another ornament looped onto the string along with the Christmas tree. It’s a gold star with letters etched into it: Macbeth.
It’s my name written in a delicate scrawl.
I gasp. “Is this my mom’s handwriting?”
Levi nods, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I asked your dad if he could think of anywhere she may have written your name, and he found this.”
I take the letter with trembling fingers. Tears sting my eyes as I read the note.
My darling boys,
Your sister, Macbeth, has arrived! She’s absolutely perfect, and I know you’ll love her as much as your dad and I do.
You’ll be the best big brothers a girl could ask for.
But I have to warn you: I can already tell she has a big personality and a mind of her own.
So, I wouldn’t try to boss her around if I were you.
We’ll be home from the hospital tomorrow. I miss you. I love you.
Mom
I look at Levi, laughing through the tears that are now flowing freely from my eyes. “She said I had a big personality!”
He grins, brushing the tears from my cheeks. “Are these happy tears, Baby Jones-Beshear?”
I trace my mother’s handwriting with a finger. Then I look into the eyes of the most amazing man I’ve ever known. “The happiest.”