Epilogue
They were doing the work.
Evelyn and David sat on the couch of Dr. Chesnay’s office and carefully went over their plans for Hanukkah with their therapist. They had agreed to spend this year’s holiday break in Pennsylvania on the farm.
Evelyn, who was now working on her first feature film, couldn’t help but feel stressed.
She took David’s hands and, turning toward him on the couch, attempted to communicate her feelings.
“I love you,” Evelyn said.
“I love you, too,” David said.
They had been making it a point to start and end every hard conversation with those words.
“But this is my first year working on a feature film,” she said. “I was hoping to use the week to catch up on some of the areas I don’t have as much experience in.” She stopped, looking to their therapist, and then David, who worked to communicate that he had heard her concerns.
“I hear that you’re anxious,” he said. “I hear that this is your first time working on a feature film, and you were hoping to use the time away—our vacation—to catch up on things you feel insecure about. I’m sorry you feel so nervous. I would like to support you.”
She melted. “Thank you,” she said. “And the truth is, I feel really bad that work is cutting into our personal life again. I know that you wanted this week to be special, and I hate that I just spend our time out there focused on work. I want to be present with you. You’re important to me, too.
And I’m committed to showing you that. So, what do I need to do to show you that you are a valuable part of my life? ”
“Perhaps we should make a schedule,” he said. “The days you are going to work, and not. And we just make sure that the time you’re not working . . . we’re really present with each other.”
She took a deep breath. “I would like that.”
“How many days do you think you need?” David asked.
“Two.” She grimaced. “Maybe three.”
“Can you give me the first night of Hanukkah? And the weekend?”
She considered his offer. “That would work. I appreciate you, David. I appreciate you listening . . . and hearing me. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The therapist began clapping in her chair. “Bravo,” she said, shaking her head, pleased. “You two have come so far.”
It was true. When Evelyn had first agreed to couples’ counseling, it had only been to save her relationship with David. She was certain that the therapist would choose sides, make her feel like a failure. Or worse, that she would find herself taking off work for something totally unhelpful.
Instead, it was the opposite. Evelyn loved therapy.
It gave her new tools, new ways to exist in the world.
It allowed her to work through her grief, and her trauma.
She could now see how fear was playing a role in her decision-making process.
She could replay experiences from the week, learning better ways to respond differently.
And, more important, it had helped their relationship.
They had gone from two people unable to communicate, shattered and broken . . . to something that felt viable.
Of course, there were still challenges. Evelyn had not given up her career.
David had not given up the farm. But, with her new position in film—along with frequent travel to Los Angeles—she was able to negotiate working remote thirty percent of the time.
And she had brought in Demi, learning to rely on the woman for help instead of constantly trying to micromanage every detail.
Now, with the extra wiggle room in her schedule, Evelyn was beginning to mend her relationship with David. They were finding their way. They were learning to view the world through each other’s lenses. And when things got rough—because no relationship was perfect—they were communicating.
“Well,” the therapist said, glancing over to the clock. “We have a few more minutes. Is there anything you two would like to continue working on today?”
“I have one thing,” David said, raising his hand.
The therapist waved him forward. He turned back to Evelyn. “How would you feel about getting married?”
“Again?” She blinked, surprised. “Oh, wow.”
“I realize that this is the least romantic way on the planet to bring it up, but I figured it would be best to give you some time to prepare emotionally, to talk things through in a safe and supportive environment free from distractions, in case you do want to consider it as an option . . . I also realize it’s an incredibly strange thing to marry your ex-husband. ”
“Very strange, indeed,” she admitted.
“I would understand if you’re not ready, obviously. Just to be clear, there is absolutely no pressure from me. We can continue being exes who live together without the paperwork attached.”
“How modern of us.” She smiled.
“I just—” He swallowed, his cheeks flushing red. “I just want us both to be happy.”
She nodded, thinking it over. Was it wrong to make your ex-husband sit and wonder about a future proposal? She would only torture him for a few more seconds. She knew, as soon as he began speaking the words, what her choice was.
“Do you think we would need to do the whole engagement ring and wedding thing all over again? Or does a second marriage, to the same person, come with allowances?”
“I’m not really sure, honestly.”
“I loved our first wedding, but for the second time around, I think I’d like something smaller and more intimate.
Maybe a quiet ceremony on a beach in Miami with just immediate family.
That way, it’s more like a recommitment than a remarriage.
Plus, we could also wrap in some time with my mom.
I haven’t seen her in a few months, and I really miss her. I know she misses us, too.”
“Wait.” His chin dipped back. “Does that mean you do want to get married again?”
“I mean—” she raised one eyebrow in his direction playfully “—I’d expect you to ask my mother first.”
“Obviously.” He beamed. “Not a problem.”
“And I think, this time around . . . we should do it in April.”
“April sounds perfect.”
They both turned to Dr. Chesnay, who was watching them dreamily, both hands cast firmly over her heart.
“So now what?” David asked, most seriously. “What should we do?”
“Not to put pressure on either of you,” Dr. Chesnay responded. “But I think you should kiss your future wife.”
Evelyn sat on a large reclining chair, a fire blazing in front of her, a chunky knit blanket covering her arms and legs.
On the windowsill behind her, for the last night of Hanukkah, all eight candles of the menorah shone brightly.
She turned to the last page of the Hanukkah rom-com she was reading, The Matzah Ball, when David arrived with a cup of tea.
“Here you go,” he said, handing it to her. “Chamomile lavender.”
“Thank you.”
They kissed, and he slid down beside her.
She put the book to the side, basking in the quiet of the farm and David.
His hand drifted lovingly toward her thigh.
She smiled in his direction before her eyes wandered toward the wooden box filled with her ashes, and the ceramic imprint of her hands and feet, both sitting on the mantel. April’s legacy shone in the light.
For so long, she hadn’t even been able to look at it. She’d hidden it away in an unvisited room, refusing to acknowledge the pain the loss had caused. Now, there were days it still stung . . . but when it did, she acknowledged it. And then, she leaned on her husband.
“You know,” Evelyn said. “I’ve been thinking about this time last year, when I was visited by the heartbreaks of Hanukkah.”
David angled his head curiously. “What about them?”
“Well, I was thinking about the eighth ghost.”
David pulled her closer to him. “You mean Mr. No-Show?”
“Yeah. Number eight.”
It wasn’t the first time they talked about the eight heartbreaks.
They had spent countless hours in therapy unpacking what happened the previous holiday.
As a doctor, David searched for clear-cut answers.
He wanted to prove that her experiences were delusions, the side effect of some new medication, or a rare symptom linked to her migraines.
Evelyn, however, believed that what she experienced was real.
That she had been visited by seven specters, plus Marla.
One of the challenges they faced—much like their decision to fight for their marriage after divorce—was learning to sit with uncertainty.
“I just . . .” Evelyn said, pressing her lips together. “It bothers me. Marla said eight heartbreaks. But where was the last ghost? There should have been some climatic grand finale.”
“Well, maybe she meant seven heartbreaks . . . plus her.”
“Marla is not the type to screw up accounting.”
“You have a point.”
“Anyway,” she said, snuggling up closer to him, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think there was a last ghost . . . and I think it was April.”
“April?” Curiosity spread across his face. “Interesting. Why would you say that?”
“If you think about it, all the other visions were temporary. They came for a reason and to impart some lesson. And then, being temporal, they took off. But April didn’t need to come down from some other plane to visit me . . . because April has been here all along.”
“Hm,” he said thoughtfully. “I like that.”
“And I think . . . I know this sounds kind of wild, but maybe . . . maybe April saw how losing her tore us apart, how much pain we both were in, and so she moved heaven and earth to get us back together. Maybe she fought for us, David. Because we couldn’t fight for ourselves.
And everything that happened, you returning to CBS7-T studios after two years .
. . me getting hit in the head by a piano .
. . hell, even Jared Sparks! Maybe all of that was for a reason.
So that we could have this right here, a new beginning, and a fresh start. ”
“So, you’re saying Jared Sparks actually was communing with the universe?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She laughed before adding, “But I guess what I’m saying is .
. . I don’t know. I don’t know if what I experienced was real.
I don’t know if I was visited by ghosts or if everything I experienced was simply a product of my imagination.
But I know that if anyone in the universe was going to fight for us, especially when we couldn’t fight for ourselves .
. . it would be April. It would be our daughter. ”
He swallowed. “I think you’re right about that.”
“And maybe that’s my takeaway for this Hanukkah.
For this entire experience. The world is filled with heartbreaks.
We lose the people we love, we make mistakes, we hurt each other .
. . sometimes we even do unforgivable things.
But despite all the pain and grief of life, there can still be miracles.
Magic can happen. Ghosts can show up, enemies can make amends—”
“And two people who have fallen apart can fall in love again.”
“Exactly.”
Evelyn laid her head on David’s chest and felt it rising. Breath. Life. The promise of new beginnings waiting in their future. “Do you think you would ever be ready to try again?”
Evelyn answered honestly. “I hope so.”
David nodded. “Me, too.”
The fire crackled. David leaned over to take the cup of tea away, followed by giving her a kiss.
She melted instantly, her body sparking with heat and desire, as his hands trailed down her sides, and she suggested taking it to the bedroom.
They were on their way there—still kissing, in fact—when out of the blue, Evelyn heard a small child tittering.
She stopped immediately, pulling back. “Did you hear that?”
David furrowed his brow and angled his head sideways. “Like a laugh, right?”
“Like a little girl giggling . . .”
They both spent a moment craning their ears, listening for any further sounds.
But it was gone. The specter had passed.
They returned to kissing. Their hands tore at each other, hungry and passionate, as they made their way to the bedroom.
And it felt right. He felt right. Like past, present and future merging together—there was hope beyond the grand finale.
For love, it turned out, was the greatest miracle of all.