Epilogue
Arden became Mrs. Arden Hayes on a gorgeous, clear autumn day.
The trees flamed around the town, yellow aspens and red maples in a riotous profusion of color, mingling with the dark pines and firs.
The last of the summer wildflowers had faded, but Fern still found enough to crown Arden’s hair with a garland of gold, purple, and blue.
All the families were there, as well as a number of family friends from town and the neighboring ranches. For the first time, the town truly felt like a town, with vehicles all up and down Main Street, voices and music and the smell of barbecue grills going full blast.
Arden had opted not to wear a full white dress.
She’d had that experience with Grant, and she didn’t feel like repeating it.
Instead she wore a long flowered skirt, a white blouse, and a veil so Baz had something to sweep away from her face before he kissed her so deep and long that some of the assembled friends and relatives began to cheer and whoop.
The weather was wonderfully cooperative.
It had been dry for weeks, with just a few intermittent showers, so Main Street was dry and the weather was nice enough for the afterparty to spill out of Baz and Arden’s store into the street.
The dads had set up a sound system and then traded off playing DJ, with bass thumping and couples or singles dancing in the street.
The house behind the store was turning into a nice little home.
Whenever she needed a break from the cheerful post-wedding chaos on Main Street, Arden retreated there.
She was sitting and looking at the row of rescued teacups on a windowsill in the kitchen when Baz slipped inside and put an arm around her.
“Had to get away?”
Arden nodded and leaned against his shoulder. “This has been the most wonderful day. But it’s also a lot.”
“Feel like taking a walk?”
They went out the back door, through the backyard that Arden—with Fern’s enthusiastic help—was cleaning up and converting into a nice little garden.
They had been finding and restoring the old patches of herbs and flowers that had once grown here, now gone wild, and Arden was looking forward to planting new flowers in the spring.
Baz had restored the old back fence and painted it white, a true picket fence. He opened the small wooden gate. Behind the house, a path now wound back into the woods, cleared of brush by Baz’s efforts and kept open as they walked to and from the creek and the wishing well.
When Arden had first come here, it was high summer.
Now autumn leaves drifted down on their hair and shoulders as they walked hand in hand through the small patch of woods between the house and the well.
Arden was still wearing the flower crown; it rustled when she moved her head, and fall leaves crackled underfoot.
“Fern says there’s going to be an early snow,” Baz said.
“And I feel it too. Look.” He pointed to a squirrel scampering busily across the path, hardly noticing them as it went about collecting its autumn supply of seeds and nuts.
“Everything is busy getting ready, knowing there’s a harsh winter ahead. ”
Arden looked up at him. “When do you want to leave?”
“Soon.” As a group, the Windrock clan had agreed that the town wasn’t ready for winter yet. This winter, Arden and Baz would be living on the family ranch. Baz was going to look for work in town, and Arden hoped to see if she could teach art classes or work a temporary retail job over the winter.
But as soon as the snow began to melt, they would be back to clean up any winter damage and start a new summer in Windrock—with the hope of staying through the winter next year.
The question of how exactly to remodel the store was still under debate, but Arden thought part of it might make a nice art studio, with a new window and some proper lighting.
They emerged from the trees in the clearing around the wishing well. After the initial cutting back of the vines and young trees, it had remained clear with just an occasional touch-up.
“Oh, look.” Arden released Baz’s hand and crossed to the well, the unaccustomed skirt swishing as she moved. “Someone’s been here.”
There were a few small items that had been added to the old toys, which Arden, Baz, and the others had left in place as their long-ago childhood offerings.
Now there were some new things. Arden examined them with interest. A small carved bear, a delicately woven tiny basket, and a little figure made of acorn shells . ..
“This wasn’t us.” Baz picked up the bear, examining the delicate carving before setting it back in place. “I think the wild clans are coming here now.”
“Do you think this place is special to them, too?”
“It’s hard to say, but I don’t think you leave gifts like this for no reason.”
Arden leaned on the edge and peered into the well. The interior was still overgrown, but among the canes and vines, she glimpsed a few small glimmers of coins. “I think the wishing well is still used for wishing. Didn’t you say that you think wishes made here come true?”
“I don’t know if I believe in it anymore,” Baz said. He grinned. “But my wish did come true.”
“What wish was that?”
“I can’t tell you.” She rammed an elbow into his ribs. “Ow! Okay, fine—it was just that I would find my place in the world.” Baz’s cheeks pinked. “Sounds like something a kid would say, right?”
“I think it sounds like a perfectly good wish. So you have, then?”
“Don’t you think so?” He grinned down at her. “What about you, do you want to make a wish too?”
“Yes. I do.”
Arden had come prepared. The skirt had a single deep pocket, and inside it, she had a dime she’d gotten in a batch of change in town that was from the 1940s. It was the oldest piece of money she’d personally handled. She dropped it into the well, closed her eyes briefly, and made her wish.
I wish for peace, safety, and prosperity for our new town.
As soon as the words formed in her mind, she felt something odd. Like a shiver in the air, or a tremor underground, making her briefly dizzy. Arden’s eyes opened and she met Baz’s gaze. He was frowning slightly.
“Did you feel something?” Arden asked.
“I don’t know. My imagination, probably.” Baz’s grin appeared, that infectious smile that she could spend the rest of her life looking at. “What did you wish for?”
Arden playfully tapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Silly, if I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“I told you mine.”
“Yes, but yours is already true.”
“Well then, I’ll trust you to make a good wish.” He took her in his arms. “Wife.”
“Husband,” she murmured, savoring the feeling of the word in her mouth. As the wind whirled a flurry of bright colored leaves around them, she kissed him long and deep, tasting the promise of the future on his lips.