Epilogue
B rooke was used to her lighthouse home. It was a favorite sleepover destination for Jessa, and surprisingly, for the good-time team of Cornelia and Grace. But mostly, it was her happy place, her castle turret where her prince came to visit after long days spent building careers. The Dogwood Resort was up and running. They had great reviews online and even a shout-out in a prominent Southern magazine. Each flower-named cabin was reserved twelve months out, and more than fifty new jobs were created for nearby residents. The best part, though, was the Grace Warter Pavilion. From dances to karaoke to fashion shows, concerts, and art classes, there was something for everyone. Grace herself made sure of it.
On Fridays, while a ferry boat called Daugherty’s Destiny shuttled visitors back and forth from the winery, music floated across the water like magic, plucking strings and striking notes that sounded like abundance and joy. People sat by the old swimming hole with glasses of wine and gourmet sandwiches wrapped in crisp white paper. A green-headed mallard milled about fearlessly as if he were the true owner and proprietor. Fireworks would be added soon.
With all of the challenges and chaos of the past year, it was no wonder that she had completely forgotten about the little bag she’d seen hanging underneath a second-story outcropping on the lighthouse. But she happened to remember it while Nate was there that weekend for his regular visit. He lifted her up to retrieve it.
The bag had been hung on a nail and tied tightly. Judging from the dingy state of the material, it had been there quite some time. Inside was a rock. Just a plain gray river rock, like the ones scattered around the property. But this one had been painted with a small red heart and the words Look in the oyster pile.
They both stared at it until a dawning light came over Nate’s face. “Do you think—My parents died on their anniversary. Do you think he planned a scavenger hunt for her?”
“You think this is from your dad?” She held the precious stone. It felt like a link to the life that Nate should have had. To the parents who loved him.
“Let’s go check the oyster pile,” he said.
It didn’t take much digging to find another canvas bag and another painted rock. Look for the woodpecker tree.
“I think I know,” Nate said.
They ran to a white birch tree several yards away, barely alive, with little black holes throughout its white trunk. Hanging from one of the thickest branches was another canvas bag, and another rock. Meet me under the bridge , it said.
Brooke ran as fast as she could to keep up with Nate. When they got to the bridge, they both went directly to the spot where she’d dreamed about a white plastic duck long ago. Nate picked her up, and she used the flashlight on her cell phone to look deeper into the spot underneath the trestle. Zippy must have heard them; he appeared from the sky, quacking loudly before landing on the empty creek bed and fast-waddling, limp-free, to join them. They took a moment to greet him, then went back to work. Sure enough, the spot from her dream held another canvas bag. The way it was stuffed into the spot resembled a little white duck. She reached in and handed the bag to Nate.
Inside was a note wrapped around a little square box.
Brooke had never seen Nate cry before. Not while talking about his parents or his grandfather, not while recalling the trauma with his uncle. Grief, loneliness, poverty, abuse, judgment, hatred—for him, it had all simply been a part of life. But as he read the note aloud, tears streamed down his face.
For my beautiful wife on our fifteenth anniversary.
You have given me more than I deserve. More than I ever hoped. You alone have shown me what it means to be truly happy. We have every good thing that life offers—our Nathan, and each other. Your love fills my soul. It is you who has made this world tolerable, and my life worth living. The diamond in this necklace comes from my grandmother’s engagement ring and the surrounding diamonds were curated just for you. I designed it with the help of my father, and I hope that every time you look at it, you know that you are fully, completely, and infinitely loved and appreciated. The greatest joy, the greatest gift of my life has been the honor of loving and being loved byyou.
As he came to the end of the note, Nate turned to Brooke.
She could see on his face what he was about to do. “No,” she whispered. “No, Nate. This is yours.”
He opened the box and immediately held it up to her. “This is ours,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “None of this is a coincidence. I knew it from the first time I saw you smile. I finally have something to give you—something from my past for the girl who is my future.”
His eyes welled with tears, and hers were just as blurry with the heft of the moment and the beautiful turn their hunt had taken.
“Anna Brooke Sharon Warter,” he whispered. “It’s always been you for me.”
“And it’s always been you for me.”
He gently clasped the necklace behind her neck. Miraculously, their quacky little mallard had managed to keep quiet until they kissed, then his raucous noise-making began.
“We’re happy too, Zip,” Nate said. “We’re going to have so many great days here together.”
“We rewrote the past,” Brooke said, leaning into his embrace. “And now I get to be in my favorite place in the world. With my favorite person.” She laughed. “And a duck.”
The End