Epilogue #3
Leah spoke about childhood.
Not the painful parts.
The time I dismantled the family toaster at nine and rebuilt it with three unnecessary lights. The winter I slept beside a sick dog because I believed no one should be frightened alone. The way I had always chosen repair before replacement, even when people were more complicated than machines.
“I used to think that was stubbornness,” she said. “Now I think it was hope.”
I had to look down.
Reid’s hand covered mine beneath the table.
The day was beautiful.
It was also loud.
By four, voices had begun separating into hard layers. Light from the harbor doors became too bright. I lost the final sentence of a conversation with Trevor while he was still speaking.
Amber.
I touched two fingers to Reid’s wrist.
He stopped immediately.
“Break?”
“Yes.”
His concern did not transform into panic.
There was no public announcement.
No insistence that I could endure another ten minutes.
We slipped into the office, where Marian had arranged a recliner, dim lamp, water, medication, and a sign on the door that read GROOMS RESTING. DO NOT TEST ME.
Reid closed the blinds.
I sat and loosened my collar.
“Head?”
“Two.”
“Language?”
“Slow.”
“Do you want me here?”
“Yes.”
He knelt and removed my shoes.
“I can do that.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“I’m your husband.”
“That is not a medical qualification.”
“It should come with benefits.”
I smiled.
He pressed a kiss to my knee.
The room quieted.
His hand rested against the inside of my wrist while I closed my eyes.
I did not fall asleep.
I rested.
That difference had once mattered too much.
Now it was simply what my body needed.
After twenty minutes, the sounds around me separated into order again.
I opened my eyes.
Reid sat on the floor beside the recliner, his back against the desk.
His wedding band gleamed on one hand.
I reached down and touched it.
“Still there.”
He turned his hand beneath mine.
“So is yours.”
“You checked?”
“Several times.”
I smiled.
“You’re married.”
His gaze lifted.
“So are you.”
The expression on his face made my chest ache.
Not grief.
Not fear.
A joy large enough to hurt.
I leaned down and kissed him.
“Ready to go back?”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Head?”
“One.”
“Energy?”
“Enough.”
He rose and offered both hands.
I took them.
We returned to our family.
At five thirty, Marian began moving people toward coats.
Not because anyone wanted to leave.
Because I had asked for a reception that ended before exhaustion became the final memory of the day.
Guests hugged us.
Photographs multiplied.
Miriam cried into my shoulder and called me her boy.
Elias shook Reid’s hand, then ignored masculine restraint and pulled him into a hug.
Dr. Whitcomb kissed my cheek and told me my stress management had been exemplary.
“I expect that in writing.”
“Absolutely not.”
Priya gave me a wrapped box containing a set of resistance bands tied with a white ribbon.
“I hate you.”
“You’ll use them.”
“Yes.”
Leah and the girls stayed until the loft was nearly empty.
Emma looked at our rings and sighed.
“Now you’re legally impossible to get rid of.”
“That was the plan,” Reid said.
Clara hugged Marlowe instead of us.
“He’s tired.”
“He ate half a pear cake,” I said.
“He’s celebrating.”
When the last guests reached the stairs, Marian returned to the office carrying Reid’s overnight bag.
He frowned.
“What is that?”
“Your luggage.”
“My luggage is upstairs.”
“Not anymore.”
Reid looked at me.
I tried to appear innocent.
He knew me better.
“Noah.”
“Walk with me.”
“Where?”
“Dock.”
Suspicion tightened every line of his body.
We went downstairs through the workshop.
The yard had been cleaned, tools put away, floor swept. The new crew vehicle stood behind the locked service gate. Work platforms rested in their bays. The office lights were off except for Marian’s desk lamp.
At the harbor doors, Caleb and Owen waited.
Talia sat in a chair nearby with one hand on her stomach and an expression of complete exhaustion.
Mercy floated at the dock.
Small white lights traced her rails. A weatherproof cover sheltered the cabin. Two bags rested beneath the forward bench beside a cooler and a folded blanket.
Reid stopped.
“What did you do?”
“Planned a honeymoon.”
His head turned sharply.
“On Mercy?”
“Partly.”
“Where are we going?”
“Alder Cove.”
The name changed his expression.
The cottage where we had once stayed before the accident.
The place that returned to me first in fragments—smoke, a green quilt, Reid’s black coat on a hook, his voice in a dark room telling me I was loved.
The cottage had reopened after renovation in spring.
I booked it six months ago.
Reid looked from Mercy to the harbor mouth.
“It’s nearly dark.”
“We’re not taking her out tonight.”
He stared.
Owen grinned.
“Harbor Transit’s hauling her to Alder Cove in the morning. We’re driving.”
Reid’s shoulders lowered.
“Thank God.”
I frowned.
“You thought I planned a night passage on our wedding day?”
“You once climbed aboard her while using a wheelchair.”
“Powered chair.”
“That does not improve the decision.”
Caleb handed him the station wagon keys.
“Your bags are loaded. Marlowe is staying with us.”
The dog stood beside Erin near the gate, wearing his green ribbon and attempting to eat it.
Reid looked at Marian.
“You knew.”
“I made the reservation confirmation folder.”
“Talia?”
“I packed food,” she said. “You have enough for four days. There are instructions. Noah is not allowed to claim crackers are lunch.”
“Owen?”
“I moved Mercy.”
“Caleb?”
“I lied about the yard schedule.”
Reid looked at me again.
“You organized all this.”
“With help.”
“When?”
“Across several months.”
“You kept a secret for several months.”
“It was exhausting.”
He stepped closer.
“Is the cottage accessible?”
“Yes.”
“Medical contacts?”
“In the folder.”
“Route?”
“Printed.”
“Medication?”
“Packed.”
“Hospital?”
“Forty minutes away.”
“Weather?”
“Clear after morning rain.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You anticipated every question.”
“I have an anxious husband.”
The word interrupted him.
“Husband.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
Then caught me around the waist and lifted me clean off the ground.
I laughed and grabbed his shoulders.
“You’re wrinkling the suit.”
“I don’t care.”
He kissed me while Caleb and Owen made unnecessary noises behind us.
When my feet returned to the dock, Reid kept his forehead against mine.
“You planned Alder Cove.”
“I wanted somewhere that belonged to both versions of me.”
His eyes softened.
“And Mercy?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Inner water only if the weather turns.”
“Yes.”
“No heroic decisions.”
“Agreed.”
“No pretending you aren’t tired.”
“I took a break during my own wedding.”
Pride warmed his face.
“You did.”
“I’m good at recovery now.”
“You’re better.”
“Careful.”
He kissed me again.
We said goodbye beneath the dock lights.
Leah promised to call the next morning.
Marian promised not to call unless the yard burned down.
Owen promised to send a photograph proving Marlowe had been fed.
Talia promised nothing because she had reached the final month of pregnancy and believed all promises should be made to her.
Then Reid and I climbed into the station wagon.
His overnight bag waited behind the seats with mine.
My suit jacket came off before he started the engine.
The wedding bands caught light when he placed his hand over mine on the console.
“Husband,” he said.
His voice carried heat.
I looked at him.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been patient all day.”
“You kissed me in front of forty people.”
“Patiently.”
“I am still wearing formal pants.”
“I noticed.”
“Alder Cove is almost three hours away.”
“Two and a half.”
“With rest stops.”
He groaned.
I smiled and lifted his hand to my mouth.
“We have a week.”
“Not enough.”
“Marian gave us ten days.”
His head turned.
“Ten?”
“She believes neither of us understands leave.”
“I love her.”
“I’m sitting here.”
“Platonically.”
“Better.”
We drove north through the coastal dark.
The excitement of the day drained gradually from my body, leaving warm fatigue behind. I lowered the seat and kept hold of Reid’s hand.
“You should sleep.”
“I’m newly married.”
“Marriage includes naps.”
“Was that in the vows?”
“It should have been.”
Streetlights thinned as we left Greyhaven. Rain softened to mist. The road curved between black trees and glimpses of ocean.
I watched Reid’s wedding band on the steering wheel.
For a while, I believed happiness should feel sharper.
Louder.
Like a door flung open.
Instead, it settled into me quietly.
A warm weight.
A hand held across the console.
The knowledge that the man driving beside me would be there when I woke.
My eyes closed.
“Cal?”
“Yes?”
“Wake me before the cottage.”
“I will.”
“I want to see the road in.”
“All right.”
“And don’t carry me.”
“I made no promise.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re wearing dress shoes.”
“That is not disability.”
“It is poor judgment.”
I smiled without opening my eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
The road hummed beneath us.
I slept.
When Reid touched my arm, the car was parked beside a low cedar fence.
“Hey.”
I opened my eyes.
Darkness had become moonlit fog.
Beyond the windshield stood the Alder Cove cottage.
Renovation had changed the exterior. New roof. Wider porch. A ramp beside the stone steps.
But the shape remained.
One story tucked beneath shore pines, windows facing the cove.
My breath caught.
Reid watched me.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“Head?”
“Quiet.”
“Do you remember?”
“I don’t know yet.”
We got out.
Cold air carried salt, wet cedar, and smoke from someone’s chimney farther along the shore.
The smell reached me first.
Then the faint metallic sound of the cottage gate.
A chain striking wood.
My hand stopped on the latch.
Memory did not arrive as an image.
It opened around me.
A winter afternoon years ago.
Reid behind me carrying two bags and complaining that the gate wanted blood. My hands numb from cold. Mercy tied at the old dock below the cottage. Wind pulling the hood from my head.
I heard myself laughing.
Not imagined.
Remembered.
Reid came close.
“What?”
“The gate.”
He looked at it.
“You fought with it for ten minutes.”