EPILOGUE
One Year Later
The carousel sat at the far edge of the park, where the shade of the century-old maple trees ended, and the grass gave way to hard-packed clay. The sun beat down on Dalton's shoulders as he and Clara made their slow journey across the lot.
When she caught sight of the carousel, the old woman’s breath caught.
"Oh, she's magnificent." She stared at the ride for long moments, caught up in the winsome display of colors and lights and music. "I've always loved the carousel. My father used to take me every year for my birthday. Cincinnati, if I remember it right. I was just a little girl then.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you for bringing me to the festival today. It was such a lovely thing for you to do."
"It's my pleasure, Clara."
When they reached the front of the line, he handed the operator their tickets and helped Clara aboard the platform, steering her toward the golden swan. "Your chariot, madam."
She giggled. "Why thank you, kind sir."
When he'd settled her onto the bench, he climbed in beside her. The music started, the carousel slowly began to turn, and Clara closed her eyes. A gentle smile caressed her face, and he was sure she was fully present in some long-ago memory. Somewhere in the magic of the carousel, the little girl with sausage curls and a yellow dress was reborn. Fitting, he thought, because it was here that he too had been reborn, just one short year ago. It was here that he’d turned off the broken path he'd been following and stepped into this beautiful, chaotic life. His glance swept lovingly across the old woman beside him. Whether her plan had worked out by accident or design, it had worked out amazingly and he owed her more than he could ever repay.
He and so many others who, endeavoring to bless Clara had themselves been blessed beyond measure.
It turned out the townspeople had made good on their promises. Clara went to her crochet club on Wednesdays, where she and her friends made baby caps and blankets, loving gifts which they donated to the hospital for premature babies. Clara spent two days a week with Bertie, planning the monthly ladies’ outings and teaching her classes. What started as a baking day for the church coffee hour had blossomed into a cake decorating class for the church youth group. Under Clara’s skillful guidance many masterpieces had been created by the youth and donated to area foster homes for birthday parties and other special occasions.
Other days women would drop by and take her out for lunch or coffee, hoping to be a blessing to a lonely old woman and would often return confessing they were the ones who’d been inspired by Clara’s sunny outlook on life and her tales of gentler times. Even Babe kept her promise and took Clara shopping in the plaza a couple of times a month. As Clara’s memory continued to decline, Dalton had arranged for a home health worker to stay with Clara while he and Harper worked and so far, the arrangement was working out well.
He’d opened his law practice in January, and Harper had relocated her catering business from Clara’s home kitchen to the old bakery. For now, the baby played happily in her playpen while Harper and Finley, now her apprentice, created their party delicacies. When she and Finley were at their catering events, Babe, Bertie, and Kat were more than happy to take Alianna for the day. Dalton was thankful for each one of them. Their friends and family. Their “village.”
Nicky graduated from high school the month before and there had been another gala celebration in the gazebo. Dallas and Merilee came for the occasion, bringing armloads of gifts for the baby. And for Nicky, the offer of a year's tuition at his gaming school in New York. Dalton had to admit, Dallas really seemed to be putting in the work of trying to make up for all the years he’d lost in his children’s lives. Dalton couldn’t imagine such a thing. His child meant everything to him, and he didn’t want to miss a single precious moment with her.
The ride slowed and Clara’s eyes fluttered open.
“Is it over, so soon?”
“No worries, Clara. I gave the operator enough tickets for two rides. Would you like to stay on?”
“Oh, yes. I could ride the carousel all day.”
As the riders climbed from their painted ponies and left the platform, and new riders took their places, Clara settled back into the swan with a contented sigh.
From the corner of his eye, Dalton caught sight of Harper across the park. She walked toward them, pushing their child in a baby stroller, a second child merely a slight swelling beneath her T shirt. The sunlight spilled across her hair like water and his heart squeezed inside his chest.
Harper. The queen of his heart.
And Alianna, his princess.
“It’s such a glorious day for a festival,” Clara told him. “I worried this morning when I woke up to a cloud burst. But here we are. So, you see, the storms come and the storms go, and the Good Lord works everything out beautifully in His own time.” She patted his hand. “He has a way of doing that.”
Dalton lifted his eyes to the brilliant blue sky and thanked the One who makes all things new. The King of their hearts, who took the broken pieces of their lives and made them beautifully whole.
“Yes, He does, Clara,” he agreed. “Yes, He does.”
The End