Epilogue
Christmas morning on Palmar Island…
Gayle stood at the window of her small apartment above the shelter, a cup of coffee warming her hands, watching the light come up over the parking lot.
She was still in her pajamas. Red flannel ones, silly, patterned with tiny reindeer that Miss Doris had given her last year.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid.
She'd been up for twenty minutes and hadn't done anything productive with any of them.
Behind her, the apartment was quiet.
Presti was asleep on the couch, curled up in the spot he'd claimed as his own the day she and Corey decided he’d be staying with her until he closed on the house in a few days. The puppy spent his days with her at the shelter and his evenings at her apartment.
Corey came over every day after school. Sometimes he stayed until it got late, the two of them on the couch with Presti between them, talking about anything and everything. Then he’d kiss her goodnight and drive home to his mostly-empty condo.
Three more nights before he was in the new place. And Presti would go with him.
The little tree in the corner glowed softly with white lights. Two wrapped presents sat beneath it. One for Corey and one for Presti. She'd been fussing with them for days.
She heard his boots on the stairs before she heard the knock.
He was early.
She smiled and set down her coffee.
Corey was standing at her door in his winter coat, arms full of gifts.
He was balancing two wrapped boxes and something enormous in a large red gift bag that he was struggling to keep from tipping over.
His cheeks were pink from the cold. He looked freshly shaved and his hair was still damp from the shower.
"Merry Christmas," he said, half laughing at the state of his arms.
"You're early. And you brought a truck's worth of stuff."
"I got carried away."
She stepped back to let him in, and he set everything carefully by the door before he kissed her. His mouth was warm. He smelled like coffee and cold air and the pine soap he used. His arms came around her, and she leaned into him savoring the connection.
Presti woke up on the couch and let out a joyful bark of recognition. Corey pulled back from her, laughing, and crouched down as the puppy came barreling toward him.
"Hey, buddy. Merry Christmas."
Presti was still small enough to launch himself directly into Corey's chest. Corey caught him and let him lick his face, both of them making sounds of delight.
"Coffee?" she asked.
"Please."
She poured him a cup and brought it to the couch. He carried the gifts over and set them under the little tree, then sat down beside her. Presti curled up in his lap immediately, sighing with contentment.
"You want to do gifts?" he asked.
"Presti's first."
Corey grinned. "That was going to be my suggestion."
He reached over and pulled the enormous red gift bag closer. Presti's head came up immediately, tail thumping against Corey's thigh. He was already interested.
"Presti," Corey said solemnly. "Merry Christmas, buddy."
He reached into the bag and pulled out?—
Gayle burst out laughing when she saw the giant plush toy. It was much larger than Presti. The giant, floppy, ridiculous stuffed reindeer had a bright red nose and antlers as long as Corey's forearm. It featured a rope pull on one leg and squeakers in multiple locations.
"Corey. What?—"
"I saw it at the pet store and I couldn't leave it there."
"It's as big as he is."
"That's the best part."
Presti launched himself at the reindeer with such enthusiasm that he nearly knocked Corey off the couch. He grabbed the antler in his mouth, promptly discovered the squeaker, and shook the entire thing violently.
The apartment filled with the sound of a very small dog beating up a very large reindeer.
Gayle was laughing so hard she was crying.
"He loves it," Corey said, delighted.
"He's going to destroy it."
"He's going to destroy it and I'm going to be here for every second of it."
Presti had now abandoned the antler and was attempting to pin the entire reindeer to the couch with his front paws while chewing on its face. He looked feral. He looked joyful. He looked exactly like his name.
Gayle handed Corey his coffee before it could get knocked over.
"My turn," she said. "Before he takes out the tree."
She reached down and pulled out her gift for Presti first.
"This is much less exciting," she warned him when she set down the wrapped box.
Inside was a hand-knitted sweater in cream cable knit, sized for a small dog, with a tiny embroidered P on the chest. She'd bought it at the Christmas market from an older woman who'd been knitting them all season.
"It gets cold in the mornings. I want him to be warm,” she said.
Corey looked at the sweater. Then at the puppy, still trying to devour the reindeer.
"He's going to look ridiculous."
"He's going to look adorable."
"Both. Simultaneously."
She reached for her second box under the tree. Her gift for Corey. It was wrapped in simple brown paper with a red ribbon.
"Yours," she said.
He set his coffee down and took it carefully. She watched him unwrap it.
Two coffee mugs.
They were pottery—handmade, hand-glazed, the color of the ocean at dusk. Deep blue with silver flecks. Sturdy and beautiful. The kind of mugs you'd curl your hands around on a cold morning.
He looked at them for a long moment.
"They're from Alma Reyes," Gayle said. "Her studio on Front Street. I've been going by there since the fundraiser. I wanted something for the new place. "
She paused.
"I know you have your mother's mug," she said quietly. "But I wanted you to have something for this new beginning.”
Corey traced the rim of one mug with his finger. He didn't speak for a moment.
"Gayle," he said.
"Yes."
"These are perfect."
He set them carefully on the coffee table and pulled her over for a kiss. Presti grumbled through a mouthful of reindeer.
"My turn," Corey said, when she pulled back.
He reached under the tree and pulled out a rectangular wrapped package. Larger than a book, but not by much.
"This one took me a while," he said. "I hope it's okay."
She took it from him. She unwrapped the paper slowly.
It was a scrapbook.
The cover was cream-colored cloth, with the words THE ONES YOU SAVED embroidered across the front in dark green thread. She opened it and her breath caught.
The first page was Copper. The old beagle who'd been overlooked for four months at the shelter until the Christmas market fundraiser, when a retired couple had come back three times to visit him.
There was a photograph of him now. Curly white beard, gray around the muzzle, sound asleep on a blue couch with his head in the retired man's lap.
Under the photo, in handwriting she didn't recognize, someone had written: Copper spends every afternoon exactly like this.
We can't imagine our lives without him. Thank you.
Gayle turned the page.
Biscuit was next. The terrier who'd howled his way through every one of her mornings, sitting in a sunny window seat, wearing a bandana. He's still very opinionated. We love him.
Then the shepherd mix from the farm, running through tall grass in a photograph that had clearly been taken by someone who loved him.
Then the pregnant cat's kittens, in four separate homes, four separate photographs, four separate little handwritten notes.
And another for mama cat. Then more. Dozens.
Dogs and cats and one guinea pig she'd forgotten she'd even taken in three years ago.
Every animal she'd placed in the past few years, or as many as Corey had been able to track down.
Every one photographed in their home. Every one with a handwritten note from the family.
Gayle's hands were shaking.
"How—" she managed.
"I started a few weeks ago," Corey said quietly.
"I've been calling and emailing people. I asked Miss Doris for a list of everyone she remembered, and then she asked around, and Penny helped, and Kenny at the hardware store put a note on the community board.
People sent me pictures. They wrote what they wanted to say. "
She turned another page. And another.
"Corey."
"I wanted you to see them," he said. "I wanted you to have proof.
That the work you do isn't invisible. That every single one of these animals is loved because of you.
Whenever it feels impossible, or the bills don't add up, or the shelter feels like too much—I want you to be able to open this and remember. "
She was crying properly now. She couldn't help it.
She turned the last few pages. And then, on the very last page, in the same green thread as the cover, embroidered onto the cloth backing:
And this is just the beginning.
She closed the scrapbook carefully and set it on her lap.
She looked at him.
She didn't know what to say.
"I love you," she managed.
"I love you too."
She kissed him. Presti, who had finally exhausted himself with the reindeer, climbed into her lap and curled up on the scrapbook, tail wagging sleepily. Corey pulled Gayle against his side and held her while she cried.
They sat like that for a while. The tree lights blinked softly. Outside, the gray morning kept getting lighter. Somewhere downstairs a dog barked a couple of times and then settled down.
Corey didn't move for a long moment.
Then Gayle felt something change in him.
He'd gone very still.
"Corey?" she said. "What is it?"
He didn't answer.
He pulled back slightly, gently moving Presti off her lap and onto the couch cushion beside them. The puppy grumbled but stayed put, one paw still resting on the scrapbook. Corey stood up.
He reached into his pocket.
And then the man got down on one knee.
Presti's head came up immediately. His ears perked forward. This was a new position, and new positions meant new games. His tail started thumping against the cushion.
"Corey," Gayle whispered.
He was holding a small velvet box.
"I wasn't sure if I was going to do this today," he said. His voice was rough. "I've been carrying it around for a week trying to decide."
She couldn't speak.
Presti climbed off the couch and padded over to Corey, obviously convinced this was an invitation to wrestle. He put a paw on Corey's bent knee and licked his face.
"Presti, buddy?—"
Gayle laughed through her tears. "Presti."
The puppy sat down beside Corey, tongue lolling, watching them both with great interest.
Corey looked up at her. The velvet box in his palm.
“I know this is soon,” he said. “But Gayle, I don’t want to wait.”
He opened the box.
It was a delicate ring with an antique setting, a small round diamond, and a warm gold band that had clearly been worn before.
"It was my mother's," he said. "My father gave it to her. She wore it every day for thirty-three years."
Gayle's hand came up to her mouth.
"I've been carrying it for a long time," he said. "For most of the last three years. I didn't know what I was going to do with it. It was hers, and she was gone, and I couldn't picture the person I'd want to give it to."
He looked up at her.
"Then I met you."
Her eyes filled up again. Presti's tail wagged harder, still convinced this was somehow about him.
"I've spent three years being careful, Gayle," Corey said. "I'd rather spend the rest of my life being brave. Will you marry me?"
"Yes." She was already reaching for him. "Yes, of course, yes."
He slipped the ring onto her finger with hands that shook slightly. It fit almost perfectly. A little loose on her ring finger, but not by much.
Then he stood, and pulled her up with him, and kissed her.
Presti barked once, jumped up on the couch, and grabbed the reindeer in his mouth in celebration.
When they broke apart, Corey held her face in his hands. His forehead rested against hers.
"When?" she asked.
"Spring," he said. "At the cottage. The yard will be beautiful. Small. Just us and the people we love. Presti in a bowtie."
She laughed, and it turned into a small sob, and he pressed his lips to her hair.
They sat back down on the couch after a while. Presti settled between them with the reindeer clutched protectively in his paws. Gayle held the scrapbook in her lap and Corey held her hand—the one with the ring on it—and neither of them spoke for a long time.
Outside the window, the gray December morning kept getting lighter. Somewhere below, the animals were waiting to be fed.
She'd get up in a little while.
She'd walk downstairs and start her day the way she'd started every day. Checking on every single resident and getting them watered and fed. And today, each of the cats and dogs would get a treat and an extra walk or playtime.
And she wasn’t going to do it alone. The man she was going to marry and Preti would be by her side every step of the way.
"Corey?" she said.
"Yes."
"Merry Christmas."
He tilted her face up and kissed her.
"Merry Christmas."