Heal itself. That’s what my body did while the world kept spinning, while my daughter had her first meal, while my husband nearly broke. But he didn’t. He was strong through it all. Like he was before, with all he’s been through.
We all have to cope in different ways. Trey and I learned to cope in our own ways growing up. Then we learned to heal, both alone and together, in our time. Our bodies, our hearts, our minds.
Three days later, they release me. A nurse insists on wheeling me out, even though I can walk just fine. But once the doors to the hospital shut behind me, I stand up, and walk to the car, Trey’s arm in mine. Debbie is buckling Hope into her car seat, and then my husband drives us home, under the blue skies, with the radio playing one of our favorite songs as the sun beats down.
We reach our house and he parks at the curb. He scrambles around the car to open my door, then to the backseat to unbuckle the baby. He holds her and we walk up the steps, Debbie and Robert close behind.
Our family.
The five of us.
Six, if you count the dog, and I do, seeing as he’s waiting on the porch, wagging his tail, eager to meet the new addition.
Trey holds the door. I step inside the house. The windows are open, and the ocean air is breezing in, greeting me.
“I’m home,” I say to him.
“You’re home.”
We both look at the little girl in his arms.
“We’re home,” we say together.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Three Months Later
Harley
A girl builds a sandcastle as high as the sky, its towers reaching the clouds. The sand glitters and the clouds glow with a radiant white light that ignites the sky into sapphire.
“You finished it,” I say, as I stare mesmerized at the final illustration in Trey’s sketchbook for me.
“I told you I would,” he says proudly, kneeling next to me, watching over my shoulder as I look at the pictures spread out in front of me on the blanket. Hope is sound asleep in my lap as I sit cross-legged on the beach, the salty tang of the ocean waves nipping in the air.
“I love it so much,” I say, tracing the final image once again. He illustrated all of the stories from my grandparents’ cards, creating a fantastical tale of a city girl who was out of place amidst the skyscrapers, then found her way home to the sand, where she lived out her days underneath the bluest of blue skies. “I kind of feel like we made a book together,” I say, under my breath.
“Because we did. My art, your words.”
I lean back against him, and he loops his arms around me. “Our story.”
I can feel him smile as he plants a soft kiss against my shoulder, then as he brushes my blond strands away, and kisses the cherry blossom tattoo he inked on the back of my neck for my twenty-first birthday a few weeks ago. The perfect gift.
“We’ve made other things together, too,” I say as Hope stirs, stretching out her little arms, lifting them to the sky, then curling up once more as the sun beats down on my beach baby, her breath soft against my legs.
She belongs to us. But she belongs to others, too. To my grandparents, who help me take care of her. To Trey’s mom and dad, who came out to visit her a few weeks ago. His mom cooed, and cried, and sang songs, and played with her in the sand. I email her pictures every day, and every day she asks for more. More photos, more stories, more baby.
I turn to my husband. “What will we tell her someday?”
“What do you mean?”
“When she asks how her mom and dad met,” I say twisting around to look at Trey, at his green eyes with the gold flecks sparkling. “What will we tell her?”
He sinks down on the blanket across from me, lacing his fingers through mine. He always holds my hand. He did as my friend, he did as my lover, and now he does as my husband and father to my child.
“That’s easy,” he says, running a fingertip across my palm that sends warm sparks through me. “We’ll tell her the true story. That there is a place called the ugly beautiful, and that’s where her mom and dad met.”
My heart thumps faster. “And that’s where they live,” I say, quickly adding to the story.
“And we’ll tell her that sometimes people meet in the toughest of circumstances, and the strangest of places, and there’s no reason why they should be together, except that they can’t not be.”
“And if anyone asks if she’s heard the story of a guy and a girl who were so broken at love that they never should have happened, she’ll say ‘yes, and I know why,’” I say, reaching out to touch his beautiful face, to map the scar on his cheek. “Because it was mad love, crazy love, insane love. Because it was hard love, good love, true love. Because it was the real thing, and a love like that can’t be stopped. A love like that is inevitable.”
“It lasts forever, for always, because of the love they have and the way they love. And how they learned to love together. Fierce and true.”
“And I’ll tell her that’s how I feel for her dad.”
“And I’ll tell her that’s how I feel for her mom.”
“And that’s how we feel for her.”
As the water lapped the shore, then rolled back out to sea, we were finally where we wanted to be: with family, by the ocean, under the sun, on our terms, loving fierce and true.
THE END…
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to so many people. First and foremost, thank you to to my amazing readers. I adore every single one of you, and I am sending you virtual kisses, hugs and chocolate for your support. I love your enthusiasm, your notes, emails, tweets, posts, reviews and sweet comments. I write for you. You are all my reasons.
Next is my family. My husband and my children are the loves of my life, and I thank them for understanding my intense attachment to fictional characters. My dogs deserve more biscuits, bones and tennis balls – they are with me for nearly every word I write.
My beta readers are rock stars. Zoe always gives keen, insightful feedback; Kelly read as I wrote, suggesting tweaks and cheering me on; Crystal lent her sharp eye to a near-find draft, Monica helped refine the ending, and Kim, as always, had my back. THANK YOU. My editor Lauren McKellar helped with a final polish of the words.
Big thanks to my writer friends. Monica Murphy encouraged me to write Harley and Trey’s story in the first place, and I am so glad she did. I’m lucky too for the daily friendship, laughter and support of my girls Sawyer Bennett, Melody Grace, Violet Duke, Lexi Ryan, and Kendall Ryan. Big thanks to Kristen Proby, Pepper Winters, Jessie Evans and Katy Evans. Love ya, girls! Then there’s Tara Simone – my best friend in the world!
My publicist and friend Kelly at Inkslinger PR is my rock. I can’t imagine navigating this world without her by my side. My cover designer Sarah Hansen is a wizard. Credit for the beautiful cover photo goes to Anthony Langlois at Glimpse Photography. His work is amazing.
I am grateful to Jen McCoy who ably helped me choose an Arcade Fire wedding song. I owe a huge thank you to the amazingly talented Georgia Cates, who was generous with her time and knowledge of medicine and labor and delivery. Any mistakes in the hospital sequences are my own. Hetty, as always, was there for me – whether to read, to make a gorgeous picture, and most of all just to be a friend.
Hetty is also a part of my core group of gals – Hetty, Kim, Cara and Kristy - you are fabulous readers and wonderful women. Kim is by my side with her daily enthusiasm. Kelley is an amazing resource. Helen at All Booked Out continues to deliver stunning graphics, as do Tori at Give Me Books and Heather at Real Housewives of Romance.