Epilogue
Breezy
A year later
Our newly fenced backyard is a sea of whispered laughter and terrible hiding spots. Friends, family, and half the town are crammed behind trees, picnic tables, and lawn chairs—everyone buzzing with excitement as we wait for Tad to get home.
“Shh, shh!” I say loudly, grinning as I try to hush the crowd. I swear, the more I shush, the louder they seem to get.
Pete, of course, is elbow-deep in the chip bowl instead of taking cover. Josie smacks his hand and pulls him down beside her on the blanket where she’s hiding with our babies—three squirmy, sun-dappled miracles lined up like the world’s cutest parade.
Rose and Danny, Josie and Clay’s fraternal twins named for her late grandmother and father, are little carbon copies of their parents.
Rose, with her blond hair and bright green eyes, is Josie’s tiny twin in a ruffled pink romper and a sun hat that keeps sliding sideways over her face.
Beside her, Danny is Clay’s mini-me with the same dark hair, same golden eyes, same mischievous grin, wearing a little blue onesie that reads Ladies’ Man across his chest.
And then there’s Hayes McCoy Hanson, Tad’s and my whole world. He’s a perfect mash-up of the two of us, with my blue eyes, Tad’s mouth and hair, and a grin that already gets him out of trouble.
His outfit is the simplest of the bunch—a soft white tee and tiny denim overalls—but on him, it looks like perfection.
It’s hard to believe the babies are already seven months old now, but they’re growing like weeds, and I know, very soon, we won’t be able to contain them this easily.
Across the yard, Clay and Bennett take their places at the sign I made them hang between two of our trees, ready to unfurl it at the perfect moment, facilitated by my having texted Tad ahead of time to tell him Hayes and I were playing in the backyard.
Even Tad’s dad and Uncle Cal have traveled to Red Bridge for the occasion and are chatting with Randy from camp chairs on the far side of Josie and the babies.
As expected, the gate unlatches with a click, and when it opens, we all jump in excitement. “Surprise!”
Tad takes a step back, his smile catching joy like a thief who just got away with the world’s biggest heist. I clap, which is copied quickly by Sheila and Marty and Autumn, who’s playing with the water table in between them in a strawberry-adorned swimsuit and little bitty heart sunglasses, and the sign in between Clay and Bennett in the back of the yard rolls open with a snap.
“Congratulations!” I say, rushing forward to wrap my arms around Tad’s neck as he reacts to reading the same word on the banner.
“Oh jeez,” he cries, wrapping his arms around me tightly and burying his face in my neck so deeply it tickles. “What in the hell is this, Breeze?”
I palm both sides of his head and pull him back, pressing my lips to his and rubbing at the sweet purple bags under his eyes. He’s been working so hard for us, for his new job, for Red Bridge—I swear he never even saw this coming.
“We’re celebrating you. Congratulations, Mr. Red Bridge EMA Director. We are all so, so proud of you.”
“I love you,” he whispers raggedly, the tenuous emotion of taking his life’s—his real life—purpose back by the horns a landslide it’s nearly impossible to hold back. We still have the sheep, but neither one of us is pretending they’re anything but pets these days.
“Oh, Farm Daddy…I love you too.”
He snorts, smacking me on the ass before turning to a loitering Randy to shake his hand.
The two of them have been through so much together, and somehow, are finally coming out the other side.
Randy, like Tad, is moving back to his true purpose and has officially taken the position of Red Bridge Fire Chief.
Six months ago, just after our beautiful baby boy Hayes was born, the town voted to fund and form an official, paid city fire department instead of the volunteer setup they were operating on before.
Nate Woodall and Barry Flyshman, two of the volunteers who helped save my life the day of the fire, took the other two full-time positions after finishing their certifications last month.
I, for one, feel safe and sound in the hands of everyone who’s poured their blood, sweat, and tears into making this new department a reality, and I can wait to see my man shine in the welcoming arms of his true calling.
And he’s not the only one feeling fulfilled these days.
A few months after I came out of the fog of postpartum life, I started an art history program at the library, and it’s become one of the brightest parts of my week.
Watching the kids of Red Bridge discover color and creativity—watching them light up the same way art once lit up my world—has brought my life full circle in the best possible way.
Lately, I’ve even been thinking about using some of the trust money to open a small gallery downtown. It would be a nonprofit space where the children of Red Bridge would be the featured artists.
Tad loves the idea, and honestly, I do too. I’ve realized I’m just as much a part of Red Bridge as it is of me, and giving back to this community that gave me everything feels exactly right.
And now, standing here surrounded by everyone I love, it feels like all of it—every hard, messy, beautiful part—led to this.
I move away, uncovering food on the picnic table and waving an arm at everyone to come eat while Tad does his due diligence of shaking hands and making nice with everyone in attendance—which, in addition to his brother, dad, and uncle, is pretty much everyone from town.
Betty, Fran, Harold, Earl, Pete, Melba, Camille, Todd, Felix, Lee, Eileen, Millie, and sooo many more—we’re surrounded by a support system of people and small businesses that would do anything to help us and anyone else in this town if they needed.
It’s part of what I love about living here—and it’s part of what I’m still getting used to. Everyone knows everyone, along with all their business.
It only took one trip to Earl’s for hemorrhoid cream after I had the baby to teach me how quick Red Bridge plays the game of telephone. I thought they’d set up a billboard about me at one point, I got so many questions.
“Great party, Breeze,” Pete says, scooping a handful of chips from the bowl and directly into his mouth. One or two don’t make it, taking up residence on his belly instead. I chuckle. “Thanks, Pete. More chips in the house if those run out.”
“Excellent.”
I check on Josie and the babies quickly before heading back for the house, intent on getting the rest of the food out, when Tad pulls me up short, a big hug and a huge kiss taking us into seriously dangerous public display of affection territory.
If Eileen hadn’t retired, this would be in the paper before the last guest left tonight.
“Wow,” I say with a smile, my breathing heavy as his lips let go of mine. “What was that for?”
“I love you, Breezy.”
I laugh softly, biting my lip and rolling my eyes. “I know you do, Tad.”
“Yeah…but I bet you don’t know this.”
“Don’t know—” As Tad backs away and settles onto one knee in the grass, my words evaporate into a mist. “Oh my God,” I whisper instead. “Tad Hanson, this party was supposed to be about you!”
A collective gasp ripples through the yard—then cheers, whistles, and a few sniffles from the peanut gallery that is all of our family and friends.
His smile should be illegal, it’s so fast and loose, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of appears right before me in a flash.
“It is. Everything about me is about you, and I suppose, that’s the whole damn point. I don’t want to have a single day without knowing you’re mine forever. Beatrice Bishop, please, I’m begging…be mine forever. Will you marry me?”
Snot and tears mix in an ugly display of the happiest moment of my life, save the birth of our son, and even at that, this is a pretty sure tie.
“Yes. Yes. Of course, yes!” I nod, and Tad jumps up, pulling me into his arms and into a kiss that makes the last one seem demure.
This moment, right here. This is the best it’s ever been.
…
Tad
I linger on the outside edge of the party, a beer in hand and a smile on my face as my fiancée flits from person to person, showing off her ring.
It’s an oval diamond in yellow gold, with a smaller teardrop diamond set at the side of the main stone.
I designed it myself three months ago, at a jeweler in Burlington, while finishing my EMA certifications.
It’s a nod to Breezy’s unique beauty and the idea that she is the keeper of my tears—the safe spot for my vulnerability.
I’ve never felt more at home with every part of myself than I do as Breezy’s partner, and I cannot wait to make her my wife.
My dad and uncle follow her around to everyone she talks to, butting in with excitement every chance they get.
I know they’re thrilled to see me moving forward with my life—and I get it.
But I’m glad they’re suctioned to Breezy’s ass instead of mine.
They’ve been here to visit once a month since the baby was born, and I can’t imagine they’ll slow down anytime soon.
Ten years is a long time to wait for your son to come back to life. I understand that now in a way I never did before. It’s amazing how your own wounds can blind you to the pain of others.
I’m trying to be better—Breezy makes me want to be better.
Randy makes small talk with Eileen’s niece Millie, and I say a little prayer that he’ll take that somewhere so I don’t have to deal with his grumpy ass every time I don’t approve some shit he asks for at the fire department.
We’ve moved on from the sheep, but he’s got a decade of a complaining habit I’m going to be fighting against.
“Happiness looks good on you, kid,” Pete says from behind me, surprising me with his presence by appearing from behind the congratulations banner Breezy had special made. He’s drinking a bourbon, like he usually is these days, and a loose smile matches perfectly with the glaze in his eyes.
“Thanks, Pete.”
“Never happier in my life than the years I spent with my Helen.” I nod as he continues, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know you won’t take it for granted, though. Ain’t many of us who really understand, but I know you do.”
“I do. And I won’t. Take it for granted, I mean.”
“I know, kid. I know.” My eyes find Breezy in the crowd and focus in on her smile as she does some ridiculous chicken squawk at Autumn, who belly-laughs in Bennett’s arms so hard, he has to bend at the hip to keep hold of her.
Breezy glides through the motions as she hugs Norah, putting her purse on her shoulder for her since her arms are full of several trays of food, and I find myself thanking God for both the good and bad put together.
“Hey,” I say, turning to Pete to ask him—really ask him—how he’s doing, but to my surprise, he’s already gone. I guess my admiration let time get away from me.
Shoving away from the tree I’ve been using as a prop instead, I make my way to my soon-to-be wife as she picks Hayes up out of his high chair and spins him around, coming up behind her and bending my head into her neck before she even sees me coming.
She gasps and then melts, her body finding comfort in the warmth of mine. “Hello, my love,” I say into her delicate skin, shifting to kiss it when goose bumps appear.
Eileen appears in front of us, stealing Hayes right out of Breezy’s arms and swirling away so quickly it makes the two of us laugh.
Since retiring, she’s been an unexpected staple in our life and a pseudo-grandmother figure to Hayes in ways I can’t exactly comprehend.
She’s happy and helpful—still nosy, though not quite as much.
But all in all, I think claiming an unofficial spot in our family has breathed new life into her.
Breezy, hands free now, spins in my arms and wraps hers around my shoulders, pushing up on her toes to put her lips to mine. “Hi, fiancé. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
I laugh. “I know. Maybe we can sneak away for a little bit and see a whole lot more of each other.” I waggle my eyebrows, but we’re rudely interrupted by the sound of Breezy’s phone going off with a text message, and seeing as we’ve just been with pretty much everyone we know and they’re all on their way home on the roads at the same time, she pulls it out to check it.
Her gasp is soft but noticeable. “It’s Logan.”
I know she hasn’t heard much from him in the last couple of months, since the last time he visited the baby and got the same old hostility from Bennett, but every time he does reach out, she gets excited. She misses him, and as weird as the first time we met makes this sound, so do I.
“Oh no.” She flips the phone to show me, and I read the message to myself.
Logan: Sorry to do this, Breeze. I know you’ve got a lot going on there with your own life. But I’ve got a problem. I need your help. What do you think? You up for a trip?
I don’t like the sound of it, but he’s family. And family, I know for so many reasons, is everything. “Does this mean we need to go to NYC?”
Breezy sighs. “I think so. But I’m getting back here as quickly as possible.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “Don’t miss the big city?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not giving up this life for anything.”
“Me either, baby. Me either.”