Epilogue
The house buzzed like a beehive. Women rushed up and down the hall with flowers, ribbons, and baskets. Somewhere outside, someone was hammering the last wooden arch plank into place. From the porch came bursts of laughter and the thumping hooves of restless horses.
I stood in the center of one of the upstairs master bedroom suites—a suite that after today would be mine and Gideon's—in my wedding dress, hardly recognizing myself.
The gown I had picked was simple but breathtaking: soft ivory, cinched at the waist, the skirt falling in layers that brushed the tops of my new boots. My hair was pinned half-up, the rest cascading in curls down my back. When I moved, the dress whispered like something out of a dream.
Behind me, Molly groaned dramatically.
"I swear, if one more person tells me how pretty I look, I'm gonna throw myself into the horse trough," she grumbled, tugging at the soft blue dress Maggie forced her into.
I laughed. "You look beautiful, Molly."
She pointed at me suspiciously. "You only say that because you're glowing like a saint. It's unfair. Some of us are not made for lace."
She grumbled even harder when Hilde, who was twirling in her tiny flower-girl dress, said, "Molly, du bist sooo hübsch!"
I grinned, "She thinks you're pretty."
"See?" Molly muttered. "Now I can't even argue with a six-year-old."
I reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you for being my maid of honor."
She softened instantly. "Of course." Then she added, leaning close, "But if you later want to demote me to bridesmaid, I won't be hurt."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
She just winked. "We'll see. Griffin men can be full of surprises."
Before I could question that, a sudden commotion erupted downstairs, shouts of surprise, hurried footsteps, and Maggie's unmistakable squeal.
Molly's grin spread slowly, wickedly, as she straightened the bodice of her dress.
"Oh," she said, eyes sparkling, "that'll be your surprise."
"What surprise?" I asked, heart skipping nervously.
But she only nodded toward the stairs. "Go look."
I gathered my skirts and hurried down the hall, then the steps, until I reached the foyer, where I froze. Because standing there, clutching a small traveling bag, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, was Elke.
My Elke.
My oldest friend from Berlin.
She squealed, dropped her bag, and flung her arms around me so hard my veil nearly came off.
"Inga!" she cried, voice thick with emotion. "Gott sei Dank! Look at you! A wedding! A ranch! Amerika!"
Tears sprang instantly to my eyes as I held her tight. "Elke… how—how are you here?"
She leaned back, wiping at her face. "Your Gideon arranged it. He sent a telegram and a plane ticket. He arranged for me to stay in town so we could surprise you."
I felt laughter and tears collide in my chest. "He did that?"
Elke nodded happily and winked. After all the times we'd talked on the phone during the past two weeks, she had never said a word—I called her regularly at Die Ecke so we could make plans for the Trümmerkinder, plans she had fully embraced.
And goodness, the past two weeks had been full.
Every hour not spent on wedding planning had been spent building the very first fundraiser.
Maggie had introduced me to several women from town—Patti Baker, Mrs. Longwell, and the two Burnham sisters—who welcomed me with warm hugs and fierce determination.
They were already organizing bake sales, quilt auctions, and a community dance to raise money.
Hank and a crew of ranch hands had begun putting up the first small cabins on the far side of the property, simple but sturdy, meant to house the first wave of children we hoped to bring safely from Berlin.
Families in town had already started asking about adoption.
Even skeptical, grumbling husbands seemed to soften the moment they saw the photographs Elke mailed over, those wide eyes and thin faces tugging something tender loose in their hearts.
It was happening. Our dream. Their hope.
And now Elke was standing here in Montana, right in the middle of it.
She looked around at the ranch house, Hank grinning from the doorway, Maggie beaming like she'd claimed Elke as a daughter within seconds, the children peeking from behind banisters.
"This is…" Elke breathed, "…more beautiful than anything I ever imagined for you."
I squeezed her hands, unable to keep the tears from spilling. "You're here. I can't believe you're really here."
She grinned, wiping her nose with a laugh. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Now come. You have a husband waiting, and I need to fix your veil before you walk out there looking like a windblown goose."
Behind us, Molly barked a laugh. "Good luck trying to tame that hair. It's got opinions."
We all laughed—Maggie, Hilde, Axel, Klaus, Elke, Molly—and warmth washed through me so deeply I could barely speak. Today, surrounded by the family I chose and the family that had chosen me right back, I was about to marry the man who'd saved my life in every possible way.
Gideon.
My pilot.
My dragon.
My home.
Molly placed my veil over my hair, kissed my cheek hard enough to leave a memory, and whispered, "Go. He's been waiting since dawn."
My heart trembled as I stepped through the back door and out onto the porch.
And the world… stopped. The backyard had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale, our fairy tale.
Rows of wooden chairs filled with neighbors, ranch families, and the women helping with the Trümmerkinder.
Children swung their legs, mothers held bouquets, and old men wiped at their eyes as though remembering loves long past.
And lining the aisle on both sides were cowboys on horseback. Standing tall and proud, hats removed, horses still as statues. Behind them rose the mountains, sharp, blue, eternal.
At the far end of the aisle, beneath an arch woven with wildflowers—sunflowers, sage blossoms, white daisies, lavender—my Gideon stood waiting. Axel at his side, tiny but fierce in his little suit, chest puffed out with pride.
But I saw only Gideon.
And he saw only me.
His breath hitched visibly, his hand rising unconsciously to his heart. His eyes—those warm, gold-flecked eyes—shone with a devotion so deep it nearly brought me to my knees.
Klaus took my hand. "You ready?" he asked in German, his voice trembling with importance.
I squeezed his fingers. "Ja, mein Schatz. Let's go."—Yes, sweetheart.
We walked down the aisle together, past cowboys tipping their hats, past women dabbing tears, past Elke, who was openly sobbing, and Maggie, who grinned to hide her watery eyes.
The horses whinnied softly, as if blessing us. And then we reached him. Gideon's hand slid into mine like it had always belonged there.
"Hi," he whispered, voice cracking.
"Hi," I whispered back.
The ceremony began. The priest spoke words I barely heard. Because Gideon looked at me like I was the only person alive. And I looked at him like he held the whole world in his hands. When it came time for vows, he spoke first.
"Inga Weber," he said, voice thick with emotion, "I loved you the moment my dragon saw your soul. And I will love you until the mountains crumble and the sky falls. You are my heart. My peace. My future. My home."
Tears streamed down my face. But I smiled through all of them.
"My Gideon," I whispered, "you saved me.
Not just from danger, but from fear. From loneliness.
From believing happiness was not meant for people like me.
I love you with everything I am, with everything I will ever be.
And I will walk by your side—on the ground or in the sky—for the rest of my life. "
"Do you take this man—" the priest began.
"I do," I breathed.
"Do you take this woman—"
Gideon didn't wait. "I do," he said, pulling me in before the sentence even finished.
Our lips met—soft, full of promise, full of fire—and the entire ranch erupted in cheers. And then—
Gideon broke the kiss…stepped back… and with a shiver of light and heat, his clothes ripped, and he shifted.
Gasps echoed across the yard. Maggie let out a sob of happiness.
Where my husband had stood now towered a great golden dragon, scales bright as sunlight, wings folding with a whisper like silk and storm. But his eyes—those warm, gold-flecked eyes—were still Gideon's.
My breath caught in awe. He lowered his massive head. An open invitation. My heart knew before my mind caught up. I gathered my dress and climbed onto his back, settling between the warm, powerful ridges of his spine. My veil fluttered behind me like a banner.
"Ready?" I whispered to him.
He rumbled, deep and affectionately, before he leaped. His wings snapped open. And then air was rushing past us. The ground fell away.
We soared over the ranch, over the house, over the barns, over the men cheering and the women waving handkerchiefs, over the cowboys who whooped like it was the rodeo.
Klaus jumped up and down, shouting something I couldn't hear. Elke fainted and then recovered, screaming my name. Molly hollered and pumped her fist in the air.
And I—
I laughed. Laughed with pure, unfiltered joy as Gideon swooped and circled, letting me see all of Montana spread out beneath us like a promise we'd been given by the universe itself.
"I love you!" I cried into the wind.
The dragon roared back, fierce and tender and mine.
We circled once more, then descended gently, landing beside the celebration where people reached out with awe and reverence.
The dragon walked off for a moment, followed by Hank, who was holding a bundle of clothes in his arms. They entered a barn, and minutes later, my Gideon reappeared.
The tux he had worn was replaced by jeans and a flannel shirt.
He was even more handsome than sin. He strutted toward me, caught me in his arms, and kissed me again, breathless, laughing, glowing.
"I love you," he murmured against my lips.
"I love you too," I whispered.
Forever.
Our forever.
In Gideon's arms, with the sky still singing around us, I finally understood. Home wasn't a place. It was him. It was us. It always would be.
THE END