Chapter Twenty-Two #3
where most of your work was, and if I had stayed playing for Anaheim, it would
have been perfect. That move was the first of many, and no matter where we
were, we had a roof over our heads, but it was never truly ours. Never truly a
home.”
“But they were,” I argue lightly. “Home is where we both
are. It’s…”
This time, he puts a finger over my lips, even as he tries
to give me a stern look. “May I?”
I nod.
“Thank you.” He lets out a long breath. “It was never truly
a home. We didn’t paint, we didn’t decorate, we didn’t put down roots. We were
a team of nomads, essentially. And I know—even though you rarely said it out
loud—that you have always wanted a home of your own. A home of our
own. So, that’s what this is.”
I gasp as his words register.
“This is where we’re going to put down roots. This is where
we’re going to decorate and buy furniture and put all our awards on display.” I
hear the emotion in his voice, and those brilliant blue eyes are shining with
unshed tears. “This is where you will forever get to come home to. I know your
job can take us all over the world, but when that job is done, you have a
house—a home—that is yours.”
“Oh, my goodness…” I glance over my shoulder—at the bare
bones of a house—in wonder.
Home.
When I look back at him, I can tell he’s unsure of how I’m
feeling.
“What about you? This can’t all be for me.”
He visibly relaxes. “I’m going to work with a couple of
youth baseball teams here.” He shrugs. “It just feels right.”
I mentally curse the console in the car as I try to climb
over so I can hug him properly. “I can’t believe you did this for me. For us.”
I bury my face in his neck, getting as close to him as I possibly can.
“Welcome home, Ella Rose.”
Pulling back, I kiss him. I kiss him and pour every ounce of
love and emotion and gratitude and just…everything I have into it. And I would
have kept kissing him, except we’re interrupted.
By my stomach growling.
Ugh…
We break apart, laughing. “Well…you did promise me
breakfast,” I remind him.
“Yes, I did. And it should be ready.”
When he turns to get out of the car, I’m back to being
confused. “Um…ready?”
Over his shoulder, he looks at me and winks. “Yeah. It looks
like they’re serving it now.” He nods toward the house. When I turn around, I
see our families coming out of—literally—the woodwork.
“What the…oh, my gosh! Look at everyone!”
Naturally, I bolt out of the car and run right into my dad’s
arms.
“Hey, sunshine!”
I’m actively crying.
Like…ugly crying, but I don’t care.
“Hey, Dad.” He holds me tightly, and then it’s like I’m
crowd surfing as I’m handed off from one relative to the next. I lose track of
where I am and where I’m going, but it’s the best kind of chaos.
It’s full of love.
When I’m finally on my own two feet with only Christian’s
arm around me, I ask, “What are you all doing here?”
“Christian’s been working on this for about a month,” my mom
explains. “We were all just waiting for him to tell us when you’d be here.”
I look up at him, and he simply shrugs and says, “Hero.”
My bark of laughter is my first response. “Yes, you are.”
“We’ve got all kinds of breakfast foods set up out back,”
Christian’s mom chimes in. “The builder wouldn’t allow us to fully set up
inside. He’s in the house next door keeping an eye on us, so…”
We all look in that direction and wave.
“Let’s go eat!” someone calls out.
Before I even get two steps, Mr. Lucas approaches. I brace
myself for whatever non-compliment I’m about to get.
“Well done, Ella,” he says. “Congratulations.” If I’m not
mistaken, there’s even a hint of a smile on his face. But it’s gone before he
turns and walks away.
Christian and I stay right where we are.
“I told you he might surprise you.”
“Oh, he did,” I say.
“Come on. Everyone’s waiting, and I know you’re hungry.” He
takes my hand and leads me across the lawn, our moms walking with us, when I
notice the building permit sign.
Lot number twenty-two.
I gasp, but before I can say anything, a cardinal flutters
down, landing on the sign.
“Oh, my goodness,” my mom says in awe. “Will you look at
that?”
We all cautiously take a step forward.
“You know, the cardinal is a symbol of hope, love, renewal,
and the beginning of new life,” my mother-in-law adds. “What a lovely
blessing.”
The two of them walk away, smiling and chatting about the
meaning of this bold little red bird, and I have to admit, it’s pretty amazing.
I point to the sign. “Did you know about this?”
“The cardinal?” he asks with amusement. “Ella Rose, I know I
pulled off a pretty spectacular surprise this morning, but the bird completely
acted alone.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Not the bird. I meant did you pick
this house because of the site number?”
All he does is grin as he slowly leads me away.
“Christian…”
“Like I was going to pass up a sign from our lucky number.”
The cardinal spreads its wings and takes flight over the
yard before disappearing from sight. Then we’re joining the family. I’m
surprised at how they’ve set everything up—tables, chairs, hot food.
I’ve had many memorable moments in my life.
But this one tops them all.