Epilogue
I’ll never grow tired of the sight of Fiona on the cliffs of Ardmore, pink-cheeked and laughing as the wind whips her hair around her face.
I’ve heard so many stories about the fae folk since we’ve been here that sometimes, when the light hits her just right and she glows from the inside out, it’s easy to believe Fiona is one of them: ethereally beautiful and full of magic, with an indomitable spirit.
I chuckle to myself at this train of thought.
The magic of Ireland is rubbing off on me.
Fiona jokes that I sound more and more like Murph, and I’m okay with that comparison.
These last two months have left me feeling like a new person, and I know Murph would be unspeakably proud of me. Of both of us.
I take out my phone and snap a picture of Fiona.
Never in my life did I expect to become a ‘social media boyfriend’, but here we are.
I love capturing candid and behind-the-scenes photos for Fiona to use on her BeSocial account.
It took me a while to warm up to the idea of having my own face on social media, but after Fiona accidentally included me in the background of a couple of her videos, people wanted to know more about her so-called mystery man.
Most of the photos Fiona takes of us together are just for us, but the ones she shares online do really well, which is baffling to me. Mila has warned me to avoid reading the comments, claiming they’re ‘thirsty’ and would make me uncomfortable. So far, I’ve heeded her advice.
Fiona turns toward me, and I snap another picture, then another as a bright smile flashes across her face. She has a yellow flower tucked behind her ear that somehow managed to stay put despite the wind.
I see her lips moving, and I know she’s whispering into the wind.
I caught her doing it one day shortly after we arrived in Ardmore, and she confessed she was talking to Murph.
She told me how close she feels to him here, and that she likes to think the wind will carry her messages to him, wherever he is.
Ever since then, I’ve whispered my own brief messages to him when I’m alone. I love you. I miss you. Thank you.
Fiona comes running, and I catch her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. She buries her face in my neck, and I can feel the vibration of her laughter against my skin. When I set her down, she kisses me, then takes my hand as we set off toward the cottage.
Mila is in the garden when we arrive, wearing a comically oversized sunhat and gardening gloves. She hums to herself as she snips flowers and adds them to the basket at her side.
“Hey, you two,” she says when she spots us. “I thought I’d make a few bouquets so the place looks extra special when our guests arrive.”
“Great idea,” Fiona says. “I’ll help.”
I check to see that Mila has gone back to her task, and then I haul Fiona toward me and cover her mouth with mine.
She melts against me instantly, clutching at my T-shirt, and letting out a soft moan when my tongue sweeps over her bottom lip.
She tastes like summer sunshine and the ripe berries we ate earlier. I can never get enough.
“Maybe we should go inside and take advantage of our last few hours of quiet,” I say.
I can hear you,” Mila says in a sing-song voice.
Fiona and I both laugh, and then she makes shooing motions at me before shoving me toward the front door.
* * *
FIONA
“You look like you’re having another pinch-me moment,” Mila says. “If my gloves weren’t filthy, I’d take out my camera and capture that dreamy look on your face.”
I drop to my knees beside her and pluck a weed from the flowerbed, tossing it in her direction. She catches it and adds it to the small pile I hadn’t noticed before.
My entire life has been full of pinch-me moments. I’ve been blessed to travel the world, see things that defy description, experience countless moments of pure awe that have taken my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. But none of them compare to life with Nathan.
We’ve explored much of Ireland and have even ventured to Scotland twice to apartment hunt with Mila, but coming back here to the cottage always fills me with a warm sense of comfort.
I’m finally beginning to understand what my dad meant about having both roots and wings.
I can see planting roots in Ardmore, making this sweet little cottage our base, and then spreading our wings—both together and separately—and seeing where the wind takes us.
After some quality time with her family in Prague, Mila joined us at the cottage four weeks ago.
She’ll be leaving next week to move into an apartment in Edinburgh.
We plan to meet up often, knowing each of us has a home with the other, and we can run the business via phone, text, email, and video chat.
“Everyone will be arriving soon,” I say.
A surge of excited butterflies takes flight in my stomach at the thought of having Mum, Liam, Joss, Thea, and Rex at the cottage for the first time.
Hopefully, the first of many. I wanted to greet them at the airport, but Dad’s tiny, ancient car would never hold everyone, so Mum rented an SUV.
She texted when they arrived in Dublin, and then again an hour ago when they got their rental car, so they should be here in about two hours.
Mila offered to stay at a nearby hotel since we only have two spare rooms, plus a pull-out couch in the office.
When Mum found out, she insisted Mila could share her bed if she was comfortable with that arrangement.
“It’ll be like one big slumber party!” Mum had said, and that sealed the deal.
It’s going to be absolute chaos having eight people in the small cottage, but I’m looking forward to it.
Mila, Nathan, and I have planned a full itinerary so we won’t all be cooped up in the house.
After helping Mila for a few minutes, I go inside to make some tea. Nathan’s laptop is open on the kitchen table, although he’s nowhere in sight. I glance at the screen and see the familiar compass logo of Take a Leap Adventures.
In the week since we officially launched the business, I’ve randomly pulled up the website on my phone or laptop countless times to admire it and prove it’s real.
We really did it. We’re doing it. Mila and I did a soft launch of sorts last month, starting with planning trips for friends, including Aneesha and Aaliyah’s dream trip to Scotland.
We hired a few experienced guides and decided to start small with walking tours in big cities like Dublin, Edinburgh, and London, along with bespoke group tours while we work out the logistics of transportation for larger, longer tours.
So far, Mila and I have taken behind-the-scenes roles as we’ve focused on planning and our own travels.
Plus, after so many years apart, Nathan and I wanted to enjoy a stretch of uninterrupted time together.
Naturally, it hasn’t all been sunshine and roses, but neither of us expected it to be.
We’ve encountered a few speed bumps, but at the end of the day, we’re committed to working through anything life throws at us.
We’ve talked about splitting our time between Ardmore and Honeywell since we can run the business from anywhere, and eventually, I’ll return to guiding select tours.
I make a pot of tea and take it to the kitchen table, where a stack of unopened mail sits beside Nathan’s laptop. The top envelope has my name on it. My heart flip-flops when I see the return address is Dad’s lawyer.
I rip it open with shaking fingers. The cover letter is a brief, handwritten note from the lawyer. I skim the greeting and settle on one part in particular: Enclosed is a letter Seamus stated was to be sent to the cottage in Ardmore two months after you and Nathan were there together.
I upend the envelope, and a smaller one flutters out.
My name is written on the front in Dad’s handwriting.
My breath hitches as my heart speeds up and tears prickle my eyes.
I’ve tried so hard not to be bitter over the fact Dad sent Nathan two letters and sent one to Mila too.
And now here I am, holding one of my own.
With a shaky breath and equally shaky hands, I open the letter.
My darling Fiona Mae,
You did it. You and Nathan are there in Ireland, together.
I knew you’d both make the right decision.
When two people are meant to be, all the time and distance in the world can’t keep them apart.
Your mother and I took a direct route to love, while yours and Nathan’s was more circuitous, but you got there in the end, and that’s what matters.
You’ll chastise me for being morbid, but I’m chuckling as I write this, thinking of myself as a matchmaker from beyond the grave.
I know you won’t want to imagine anything positive related to my death, but if there was one good thing that came from it, it’s that it brought the two of you together again.
Being your dad has been my greatest source of pride and joy, Fiona.
You were born with wings, and watching you soar has inspired me and brought me so much pleasure.
I know you’ll continue to soar, just like I know that big, beautiful heart of yours will keep you rooted to the people and places that matter most.
I love you, my darling girl. Always remember that.
Dad
I read the letter again before clutching it to my chest. I swallow the lump in my throat and allow the tears to fall, knowing there’s no use trying to stop them.
Nathan comes into the room, smiling when he sees me at the table.
Whatever he started to say dies on his lips as he takes in my appearance.
His gaze drops to the letter in my hand, and understanding dawns across his face.
Without a word, he holds out his arms, and I jump from the chair and into his embrace.
He holds me tightly, running a soothing hand over my back.
When the tears finally stop, I take a step back and hold out the letter.
“Are you sure?” At my nod, he sits at the table, and I do the same, watching him closely as he reads. He chuckles a couple of times and shakes his head, even as tears glitter in his eyes.
“He was so sure of himself,” he says when he finishes reading.
“He was so sure of us. What if things hadn’t worked out the way he thought they would? He went to the effort of writing this letter and setting things up, knowing there was a possibility it might sit in his lawyer’s files, unsent forever.”
Nathan nods, tapping the paper in his hand. “He knew all along what it took us years to see: we’re meant to be. I can practically hear him saying, ‘better late than never’. In fact, I’m surprised he didn’t include that in this letter.”
We both laugh. I lean across the table to kiss him.
I mean for it to be brief, but he grips my arm and tugs until I rise from my chair and end up in his lap.
My hands cup his face as his fingers weave through my hair.
I’m tempted to suggest we take this upstairs, but our family will be arriving soon.
Nathan pulls away first, placing lazy kisses across my cheeks and forehead. “Are you ready for the chaos of the next two weeks?”
“How many times do you think we’ll wish for a treehouse to escape to?”
He laughs. “We’ll just have to escape to the pub instead.”
“And take lots of seaside walks.”
Even though we’ve been planning this for weeks, I almost can’t believe that in just a couple of hours, the cottage will be full of love and laughter, just like Dad wanted.
It’s a bittersweet feeling; I can’t help thinking he should be here to see it.
I know I won’t be the only one who feels that way, so I’m prepared for the sad moments to come.
I’m also prepared to do my best to honour Dad, the same way we’ve been doing in the four months since he died.
The way we’ll continue to do for the rest of our lives.
Dad will always be with us. He’ll live on through all of us and through the stories he put out into the world.
Every time I’m uncertain or afraid, I know I’ll hear him in my head, telling me to take a leap.
And I’ll listen, always, knowing the greatest leap of all led me to this beautiful life I’m living now.
The life Seamus Murphy, in all his unknowable wisdom, was somehow certain I’d have, even when I never could have imagined it as a possibility.