Epilogue
SUMMER
One year later…
“Mommy! Mommy! Wake up!” Quinn bounces at the foot of the bed.
A groggy memory from a sunny playground two months ago plays in my mind.
Push me higher, Mommy, Quinn squealed as her feet sailed toward the clouds.
Here we go, I said as I pressed against her back and ran under the swing. Smiling on the outside while harboring guilt on the inside over stepping into a role that wasn’t mine to fill.
A week later, I found a box in the corner of the garage with a wooden frame inside of it.
A picture of Eliza pushing a tiny Quinn on her first swing rested in the center.
I stared through the glass at the frozen memory of her mom’s smile.
I couldn’t help but think of all the moments that amazing woman would miss.
Swing rides and first days of school. New friends and first loves. Graduation and a wedding day.
Quinn has so much life yet to live, and my perception of what that could look like with me in it changed as I admired that photo.
The mom looking back at me would want someone to love her daughter through everything that comes next.
She’d hope for someone to be there if she couldn’t.
I know that to be true because that’s what mine has done for me.
Loved me through a move and a divorce. On my best days and my worst ones too.
It’s what I promise to do for the little girl Eliza had to leave behind.
“We’re supposed to be letting her sleep in. That’s what you do on Mother’s Day.” Everett’s voice pulls me from the memory. He drags Quinn off the comforter as she claws to stay put.
“Come see!” Quinn demands.
Sorry, Everett mouths as I rub the sleep from my eyes.
Our new king-sized mattress dips when I sit up, and a smile stretches across his face with the press of a button. A gentle hum signals the retraction of roman shades, allowing light to filter into our bedroom.
He sighs. “That will never get old.” One of the many features Everett loves about this house.
We made it—barely—until my six-month lease was up before I gave my notice to Emma and finished out the last leg of Everett’s US and England tours with him and Quinn.
Wade and Caroline came along too. They’ve been there for every one of Everett’s shows, all of Quinn’s speech therapy appointments, and the day I moved my things into this house.
They’ve become like a second set of parents to me now that mine live across the country.
“Okay, I’m coming!” I tell Quinn, draping a robe around my nightgown as she drags me by the hand to the sliding glass door.
I stop before I even make it outside, cupping my mouth.
Quinn bounds through the opening, spreading her arms out wide at the display of three dozen pink peony plants bunched on the patio.
“I had a little more to work with this year,” Everett says, tucking his hands in his sweatpants pockets.
My favorite flowers.
“That’s not it!” Quinn stomps her rain boot impatiently. “Come see!”
“Oh, sorry!” I stumble out the door as she tugs me down to her level. She points to a petal that’s starting to bud as a dot of red scurries across the blush-colored flower.
“There! See it?”
I do. A tiny ladybug with one black spot on its back.
I believe in signs from the universe. This one came from her mom.
“Ladybugs symbolize love and luck, you know,” I say to Quinn, helping hold her hand steady as she tries to encourage tiny legs to climb on her finger.
“Did Henry teach you that?” Everett teases behind me.
I smirk over my shoulder. “Maybe.”
A flash of orange dives in front of us and pounces on the flower, sending petals scattering and a pair of wings flying.
“No, Millie! No! No!” Quinn scolds. She sighs as the ladybug soars toward the clouds.
Our happy kitty waltzes back and forth, rubbing against my fuzzy robe and smothering it in fur. “Oh, Millie, what are we going to do with you?”
“She’s naughty,” Quinn says.
“Hey, good job on that t sound. Naughty is a tricky word to say! Especially with a missing top tooth.” I nudge her.
She grins, showing off an adorable gap in her smile.
Quinn had her one-year evaluation for speech therapy the other day.
A test that showed tremendous progress since she first started.
We still have several years before any kind of auditory processing evaluation, but I know when it’s time, we’ll tackle that in the same way we have this—together.
Her growth has been healing for Everett.
Where he once used to avoid her sessions, he makes a point to attend them whenever he can now.
His desire to learn and be the best communicator as a dad and a significant other has inspired me to do the same.
Empowered me to explain why it was important that I have my own career after I moved here.
It’s more than wanting to take care of myself. I’m no longer afraid of relying on another man to support me when I know I can do it on my own. This is about needing something for me. Something that provides purpose and meaning in my life outside of the people that I love.
I have an interview next week with the Boys & Girls Club as their Youth Development Associate.
I loved my time with Emma at her law firm, but nothing compared to the talent show experience at Be the Brave.
This job would be an opportunity to lead a group of youth again.
To plan creative activities and encourage their personal growth.
I’m excited and hopeful for what this position might look like.
Crossing my fingers that they’ll overlook the one to two years of experience they were asking for in a candidate with the letter of recommendation I acquired.
I still can’t believe that Brian wrote it.
To Whom It May Concern,
I’m writing to wholeheartedly recommend Summer Rogers for the position of Youth Development Associate at your Boys & Girls Club.
As the former principal of six years at Be the Brave Elementary, I had the pleasure of having Summer Rogers volunteer as the director of our school’s spring play.
She stepped in last-minute for a faculty member who was unable to complete the assignment and went above and beyond in making the production a success for both students and community alike.
In five short weeks, she created an entire interactive talent show to showcase the strengths of the children under her care.
She was praised by both parents and staff alike for her positive influence and the self-confidence she developed in the children she worked with.
She is enthusiastic, creative, encouraging, talented, and would make an incredible asset to any part of your program.
Hiring her would be the best thing you could do for your youth.
If you have any additional questions, please feel free to contact me. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Brian Rogers
College Admissions Advisor - Boise State University
“Let’s plant them!” Quinn says, dragging the closest plastic pot toward the grass. I dismiss the mental distraction of Brian’s letter like it’s a hat I can shake off.
“Let’s do it!” I tighten the crisscrossed lapels of my robe where they gaped open and stand up. My hand meets something in my pocket when I tuck it inside.
I’m busy fishing out an envelope when Everett says, “Why don’t we let Mommy open her last present and get dressed while we start digging some holes.”
I lift the flap on the manilla pouch I pulled out and unearth two ticket stubs with barcodes on one end.
“All-American Road Show, backstage pass to… CHRIS STAPLETON?!” I gape at a backward-stepping Everett carrying two peony plants as he winks at me.
“We go way back too, baby.”
“We’re here!”
The sound of Caroline’s voice carries up the staircase as I slick a coat of lip gloss on. She’s gotten much better at respecting boundaries now that I’ve moved in. But she still waltzes through the front door without a knock when she arrives.
“Coming!”
I pull on my rhinestone cowgirl boots and swipe a gift bag off the dresser. Quinn’s already dragging her grandparents into the backyard to show off her hard work by the time I make it downstairs.
“What beautiful flowers!” Caroline gushes.
“I know, right? I’m so lucky to have this little gardener here.” I knock into Quinn’s hip with my knee, but she’s too busy stalking a certain ball of orange fur dashing around the backyard.
“I got my eye on you, Millie.” Quinn shakes her finger at our cat.
“I take it she’s been naughty today,” Wade says.
“Always,” I joke as I hold out the gold foil, flower-covered bag to Caroline. “Happy Mother’s Day.”
“You didn’t need to get me anything.” She looks guilty that she showed up empty-handed.
“It’s from Quinn.” I wink at her.
Quinn grabs at the tissue paper. “I help you.”
“This feels familiar.” Caroline chuckles.
“Careful,” I say to Quinn as she gets to the fragile part of the gift.
Caroline assists with delicate hands, helping Quinn unfold the edges, revealing the frame on the inside.
“I thought it would look perfect on that entry table you bought on our shopping trip the other day.”
Rare emotion brims in Caroline’s eyes as she studies the picture of her daughter pushing Quinn on a swing. She kisses the top of Quinn’s head before looking at me. “Thank you.”
I knew the one I found deserved a spot on Quinn’s dresser, but I made a copy of it so Caroline could have one too. No parent should have to lose their child in their lifetime. I can’t imagine how this day must feel for her.
The sound of the doorbell startles us all as it echoes through the house.
“I’ll get that!” I say, giving Caroline a moment alone with Wade and Quinn to collect herself before Everett gets back. He left to pick up a pizza down the road and should be home any minute.
When I swing the oak door wide, a bouquet of freshly cut pink peonies hides his face.
That’s not why my eyes widen though. It’s not what I’m staring at.
“What are you wearing?” I gasp as Everett shifts the flowers to the side, granting me a full view of his outfit.
“I bought a shirt with your face on it.”
A giant, screen-printed outline of my head tipped back in a laugh decorates his chest from a picture he took on our first date.
“I see that.”
“Just making sure Chris Stapleton knows who you’re going home with tonight.”
I chuckle, dragging him across the threshold with a fistful of his new T-shirt. “Come here.” Lip gloss smears across his lips when I kiss him.
He picks me up and drapes my legs around his waist. Petals from the flowers he picked in our yard crush against my hip and fall around our feet.
“Careful, Rhett Dawson,” I whisper against his mouth. “I just might decide to marry you one day.”
“I’m counting on it.”
THE END