Epilogue
BLYTHE
Ten Months Later
Maggi is on the verge of being too enthusiastic about going on the first folk search of the summer.
“Hold on, princess, I’ve got to grab the net out of the car,” Sam says, scootching by us and out the front door.
Maggi grabs my hand and pulls me out of the cottage, shifting from foot to foot while we wait on the stoop for Sam to get back with the net.
The trip was a surprise. All I knew was that I needed to let my team at the flower shop I took over in February know that I was going to be gone for the second week of summer vacation.
And now here we are back at the infamous cottage where Sam and I went from being two adults trying to forget some things to something more.
“I wish Nana and Papa were here,” Maggi grumbles, flipping through the little folklore guidebook they gave her for her birthday.
“They’ll be here tomorrow, Roo, and then you’ll be off on your next adventure,” I remind her.
Sam and I have our own adventure planned after she’s off involving a certain blue dress with yellow roses and kilt currently stowed away in a garment bag.
“Alright, who wants to ride on my shoulders?” Sam says, coming back through the gate carrying a child’s pink butterfly net.
“Me!” Maggi shouts, looking up at me as if daring me to challenge her.
I throw my hands up in defeat and watch as Sam drops to one knee to help Maggi climb on. When he stands, he reaches for my hand and leans down, his beard brushing the shell of my ear.
“You can wrap your legs around my shoulders for the rest of the week.” His whisper so gravelly that heat explodes throughout my body. I know that if I look up at him I’ll be met with a grin that oozes sex so I keep my eyes on the ground because I don’t want Maggi to see how flustered I am.
“What do you think we’ll find today, Mags?” Sam asks, leading me around the back of the cottage.
Maggi hums in thought while she bounces about as we navigate the rocks. “A brownie1 and a bogle,” she says confidently.
“Just the two things?” I ask, looking up at her.
“Maybe something…shiny too.” She giggles when Sam trips and pulls her from his shoulders, tickling until she’s lost in a fit of laughter. “Daddy!” she squeals, making Sam stop what he’s doing immediately, along with my heart.
She hasn’t fully called him that yet. But she has come close. Usually it’s after she’s been over at a friend’s place. She sees two parents and hears their names and each time comes home seeming more hesitant about calling Sam by his name.
Beth and I had a long talk a couple of months ago when she was up visiting us.
I admitted that I kind of wanted to get that over with because I knew it was going to be hard.
But at the end of the day, the thought that Maggi got to call two incredible guys “Dad” was pretty great. Some kids don’t even get one of those.
And now here we are, the word hanging in the air like a frozen will-o’-the-wisp and Maggi looks like she’s done something wrong.
It’s the very last way I want her to feel.
But I don’t know how to address this. I want to freeze this entire moment so I can pull Sam aside and say, “See, I’m still learning too.
” And then maybe I can take a bit more time to figure out what to do right now.
The thing is, there is no pause button on life, and like everything else with parenting, I’ve just got to roll with it.
I squat down next to Sam and Maggi and look her dead in the eye. “I hope we find something shiny too,” I say, reaching out and taking over tickle duties, and thankfully within seconds she’s squealing away, trying to squirm out of my grasp.
When we reach the trees, Sam slows my pace while Maggi runs off ahead, eventually slowing down and creeping off to the side of the path to look around a tumbling tangle of moss-covered tree roots.
“Was…” he starts, slipping his hands into his pockets, physically indicating that he’s as nervous as he sounds. “Was that okay?”
I nod and give his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“It was actually far easier than I thought it was going to be. Are you okay with it?” We talked about what it meant for him to be a father figure to her, and Sam has always expressed how fine he is with it.
But hearing someone call you “Mommy” or “Daddy” for the first time is a big deal.
I can remember it very clearly. It’s a beautiful and overwhelming moment.
His dimples distract me as he smiles and blinks rapidly as if trying to hold tears at bay. “Best thing I’ve heard aside from the first time you told me you loved me,” he says, emotion choking him up a bit. “I’m not sure I could ever be prepared for a moment like that.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s a one of a kind experience. Well, I guess I got to experience her saying that one twice.” I laugh, popping a quick kiss on his lips to really hammer home that I am absolutely okay with it.
“A door!” Maggi yells, and I turn in time to see her pull out her little book, flipping frantically through it.
“Did you…” I begin to ask Sam, who raises his finger to his lips. “Well, you’ve definitely earned the title,” I tease, pulling him along after me to go and examine this supposed door alongside my daughter.
Sure enough, there’s a little blue door at the base of the tree, surrounded by intricate wooden vines and purple and orange flowers.
“What kind of folk does it belong to?” Sam asks, squatting on the other side of her.
“A faerie,” she says without looking up from her book. “Mommy, knock,” she urges, and I use my knuckle to rap lightly on the little door. Maggi waits, looking closer, and then scrunches up her face, stands up and stalks off.
“Do any of them open?” I hiss as we follow behind.
“I believe so,” Sam whispers. “I had asked for that.”
“Who? Is there some faerie door business up here?”
His hand finds mine again as we stroll. “The cottage owner added this feature last fall. I may have given him the idea.” He grins down at me, and I have to remind my legs how to move.
“That’s really sweet,” I whisper, leaning into him as Maggi announces that she has found another door.
Like the first, she tells me to knock, and when it doesn’t open again, I prepare myself for a meltdown.
“Roo, maybe the faeries are all out and about today,” I reason while she glares past me up at Sam. It’s not every day I see her shoot a death stare at someone but I hope for his sake one of these doors does in fact open.
“I’m sure someone will be home,” he says confidently. “Someone has to guard the other doors.”
Two more doors remain shut when I knock, and I suggest to Maggi that maybe she should knock next time.
Maybe they don’t want to open the door for a giant human—most of the folk prefer children after all.
But she insists that it has to be me, and because I’m not nearly as well versed on any of this stuff, I go along with it, not interested in a debate on the subject.
The fifth door is a pretty shade of blue with yellow roses climbing up the side, and when I rap my knuckle against it, it swings open. Shocking both Maggi and me.
“There’s something in there,” Maggi says, backing away. “Can you get it, Mommy?”
Can I stick my fingers into a hole in a random tree in the woods? I mean yes, I can, but should I?
“Oh, Roo, I’m not sure we should be sticking our fingers into unknown places.” Sam stifles a laugh behind me, and I give him a shut-up look over my shoulder.
“Please, Mommy? What if there is something in there?”
I sigh. “That’s what I’m afraid of, kid.” I chuckle and then gingerly slip two fingers through the little door, stopping when I feel something small, circular, and cold. “Oh,” I utter, closing my fingers around it and pulling it out.
Maggi jumps up and claps while I stare down at the intricate ring.
It takes a second for me to realize what I’m looking at.
The gold band is lined with tiny emeralds that lead to a Celtic knot on either side of a cushion-cut diamond.
It looks like an engagement ring. But why would someone stick something like this into a tree?
Maggi is still bouncing around, and I turn to show Sam, my body freezing immediately.
He’s down on one knee, looking a bit like he’s going to throw up, but that he’s also happy about the idea.
“I have been thinking about how to do this for months at this point.”
Months…
“Came up with a bunch of flowery language about how much I love you and what you and Maggi”—he nods behind me—“mean to me. But at the end of the day I hope that I’ll get to have a lifetime to tell you all of those things.
I hope you’ll allow me the honour of spending that lifetime as your husband.
So to put it simply, Blythe”—he shuffles closer—“Rosie MacTavish, will you marry me?”
“Say yes, Mommy,” Maggi whisper-yells into my ear, snapping me out of the haze of disbelief I’ve been trapped in since looking at Sam.
“Yes,” I stutter, not taking my eyes off of him. “I’ll marry you.” The next thing I know I’m in the air as Sam pulls me into his arms while Maggi jumps around yelling that we’re getting married.
When he sets me back down, I hand the ring over so he can slip it onto my finger, where it settles into the barely there groove that remains from the last ring I wore.
“I’m going to love you forever, Sam Keefer,” I proclaim before sealing that vow with a kiss so fierce Maggi falls to the ground giggling like a banshee.
It’s a good thing that Sam hasn’t let go of my hand because I keep staring at my finger and stumbling over rocks and tree roots.
Maggi finds more doors and doesn’t bother asking me to knock which leads me to the realization that she had been in on it. I’m amazed that Sam managed to get her to agree to it. The kid lives for faerie doors.
A gasp up ahead has my head snapping up and I see Maggi with her hand held out in front of her, staring at something I can’t see this far away.
“What is it, Roo?” I call, walking a bit faster.
“Nessie,” she says in wonder, holding out a little silver necklace with a Loch Ness Monster charm. Her eyes flit from Sam to me and back again and then she’s charging back up the path with her arms stretched wide.
Before she reaches us however her foot catches on a root and she’s airborne. I’m about to jump into action but before I can, Sam’s got her in his arms warding off disaster at the last minute.
Sam looks back at me over his shoulder and shrugs. “She called me Daddy, guess it activated some new reflexes.”
“She does like to say that the prince always rescues the princess,” I tease as a wave of calm rolls over me at the thought of Maggi having another person to be there to keep her from falling.
“Princesses don’t always need rescuing,” he says, reaching for my hand and turning back up the path. “Sometimes all they need is someone to lean on.”
Yep, there’s no doubt about it, I’m going to love Sam Keefer forever.
1 A hobgoblin that comes out at night while the owners of the house are asleep and perform various chores and farming tasks.