Chapter 77 Mallory Plantation—Elliott
Mallory Plantation—Elliott
The rope swing hanging from a thick, sturdy branch of the big oak tree compelled Elliott forward, as if it could reel him in.
His feet slowed on the cool grass, his shoulders dipping as he drifted away from the laughter and music spilling from the entertainment center.
Each step into the moonlit quiet seemed to shrink him.
His breath grew tighter, and his khakis felt too long, brushing the ground like a boy’s.
His throat bobbed. No… I’m not that child anymore. But the past had a way of curling its fingers around him.
He eased onto the flat wooden plank, testing it with a gentle bounce before kicking off.
The swing groaned, the rope rasped against the branch, the leaves whispered above him, and the sound wrapped around him, familiar and feared.
The wind brushed against his face, cool and familiar, carrying him back—not in years, but in feeling—to that fragile boyhood state where escape was everything.
Where he’d used motion and imagination to outrun pain.
He pushed harder, leaning back, stretching his legs, the swing responding with a deeper arc. The movement tugged tension from his shoulders and loosened the knot that had lived behind his ribs for decades.
He was flying now—back and forth, back and forth—caught between two lives.
One of innocence lost, and one of hard-earned peace.
The air rushed past his ears, and for a moment, he felt the helplessness of that ten-year-old boy clutching the rope like a lifeline.
But the truth rose taller. He wasn’t on some rusty relic anymore.
This was a new plank. New rope. New life. And he was ready.
It was time to let the regret fall away like loose bark from the oak.
Time to give the old memories a room to rest in, a room he never needed to reopen.
Because now, he had everything a man could want—the love of his life, the steadfastness of family, a reputation built on integrity, and a purpose more solid than the swing beneath him.
His legs pumped. The arc rose. He soared, breathing in the earthy night air, and with each push-and-pull of gravity, a new acceptance anchored itself inside him.
“Elliott! Is that you?”
He slowed slightly and grinned into the darkness. “Come swing with me, Mere.”
She crossed the yard toward him, her steps quick and light. Moonlight caught the soft edges of her smile as she reached him at the peak of his arc. “How does it look up there?”
He swept down toward her, gripping the ropes. “I don’t know. I close my eyes. It’s scary up high.”
She chuckled, stepping behind him. “What are you doing? Hiding or thinking?” She gave him a playful nudge, sending him soaring higher. He let out a breathy laugh, head tipping back.
“Both.”
Meredith stepped out of his path as he swung back. “What are you thinking about?”
His hands squeezed the rope, grounding him. For the first time, the words didn’t scrape his heart raw. “Mostly about how much I love ye.”
She gave him another push, her palms warm on his back. “Not about Erik?”
The mention made Elliott’s shoulders tense—not in pain, but in acknowledgment. He shifted his weight on the plank, angled his legs, and pushed himself higher. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I know he’s here. I saw him during the fireworks—when the sky lit up enough to see faces. Which is probably when you saw him, too. What’d he say?”
Elliott dragged in a deep breath as he swung downward, the rope vibrating with strain. “That he wouldn’t stay if no one wanted him here.”
Meredith pushed him gently. “Does that mean he’s leaving?”
He let the momentum lift him skyward again. “That depends on David. And David wanted to talk to Kenzie first. That’s twice now he’s needed to talk to her before making a decision.”
“Do you think that’s odd?”
Elliott inhaled the crisp night air as he stretched his legs. The breeze cooled the sweat on his forehead.
“Probably not. They talk about everything. They make big decisions together.”
“Unlike us—sometimes.”
“That’s going to change.” The words came with a quiet vow, the kind that settled his heartbeat.
She pushed him again. “I doubt it. But that’s okay. You know me well enough after almost thirty years to know how I feel about most things.”
The swing cut through the air, a soft whoosh that tickled the back of his neck.
“What do you think David will do?” she asked.
“He’ll wrestle with the decision he already knows he’ll make. Then tomorrow, he’ll go to the boat, and they’ll go sailing.”
“For how long?”
The rope groaned. Elliott tightened his grip, arms flexing. “At least a week.”
“Why so long?”
He reached the top of the arc and hovered for a breathless instant before gravity reclaimed him. “They need time together.”
“Will he take you?”
Elliott pushed harder, sweat gathering at his temples. “He doesn’t need to.”
“I’m glad he’s here.”
Her sincerity unfurled something warm inside Elliott. A smile tugged at his lips. “So am I.”
He let the swing slow, smaller and smaller arcs until he drifted to a stop. His chest rose and fell, the cool air fanning across his heated skin. He brushed a hand over his face and let out a satisfied sigh.
“I’m tired,” he said, his voice softened by the night. “But I could shower and stay awake a while longer if ye want to end the night wrapped in my arms.”
Her smile was instant, tender. “I’m always up for ending the night in your arms.”
They linked hands, fingers fitting together like old music they’d never stopped playing, and walked toward the entertainment center. The warmth and noise swelled with every step.
When they reached the back of the house, Elliott paused. On the dance floor below, the women were lined up, bodies wobbling comically as they pretended to surf, Remy hammering out “Wipe Out” with impressive enthusiasm. Kaitlyn was at the center of it all, hair flying, grin unstoppable.
“She’s acclimated so well, hasn’t she?” Meredith said.
“Quicker than most,” Elliott said. “A year from now, Kaitlyn could have a baby or a thriving law career—or both. And Tony might be married to that friend of Roisin’s he’s been dating.”
“Life doesn’t stand still, does it?”
“Not for us.” He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her into a gentle sway as Skye began to sing “Back Together Again.”
“It’s all come together / Problems we’ve defeated / And I’m in here heart in hand / You take all that I got and you need it, baby…”
She followed that song with her cover of “Hard to Say I’m Sorry.”
“After all that we’ve been through / I will make it up to you / I promise to…”
As they danced, Meredith rested her cheek against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting the music wash over him. Her presence steadied him in a way nothing else could. The world felt soft—suspended, familiar.
Elliott twirled her beneath his arm, her hair fanning out, her smile widening. He dipped her easily, holding her as her head tipped back, trust written into every line of her body. Their eyes met—quiet, certain, carrying thirty years of love layered over every version of who they had been.
It wasn’t the wild flame of youth.
It was something deeper.
Something earned.
Something that would last.
“Say good night, Elliott,” Meredith said softly, “and let’s go find our bed.”
He raised his hand toward their gathered family—toward music, laughter, and all that still lay ahead—and felt that rare, quiet fullness only peace can bring.
“Good night, lads and lassies,” he said, his voice low and steady.
“May God hold each of ye in the palm of His hand.”
THE END
Because love, like history, never truly ends—it finds its way home…