EPILOGUE
Gray
Terror and wonder seized my chest as Zoe pushed our baby into the world, her slippery little body all gooey and pink, her arms flailing in surprise at her sudden change of environment.
I held my breath as the doctor cleared her mouth and throat. Breathe, baby. Please breathe.
And when she did, followed by a loud wail, the fear that had circled around my heart these past nine months fell away, hope and love taking its place.
Zoe reached for her and the doctor placed the still crying child on her stomach, and nothing had ever been so beautiful as I took them both into my arms. I laughed, tears pouring down my face, and the baby startled, arms flailing again. Her tiny hand grasped my beard as I kissed her little forehead, and her eyes opened, the deep blue blinking up into mine.
This daughter was alive.
Aspen Cynthia Maddox.
It had surprised me when Zoe suggested her mother’s name as our baby’s middle one. “Mom never really had a chance,” she told me. “I don’t think anyone ever loved her the way a human needs to be loved. Her parents certainly didn’t. I didn’t either.” She’d rubbed her swollen belly, her nose turning pink with emotion. “I’ll love this Cynthia with everything inside me, and maybe, just maybe, Mom will be able to feel it wherever she is.”
When Zoe learned that the tree that had stopped the Jeep long enough for me to get to her was an Aspen, she claimed the name for our first child. I loved it too, so it was an easy agreement. Almost as easy as nearly everything was between us.
The only thing we really fought hard over was when I suggested I shave my beard. Zoe had turned into an adamant hellcat, threatening to sic Go on my balls again if I did. With that threat, she won that battle.
I hated to admit it, but Go had turned into a damn good cat. He still had his moments of spastic energy, and there were times when you could pet him exactly once before he took a swipe. But he had many good moments, and his favorite place to be was on top of Zoe’s laptop as she attempted to write her next book.
He and Mags, the good girl she was, were the best of pals. Where one was, you’d find the other. They even traveled with us to Paris where Zoe and I spent part of our honeymoon, and she found her inspiration for her next book. “Come Closer” hit the bestseller list and we’d celebrated with a bottle of wine. She swears that was the night Aspen was conceived. Who knows, it could have been. It also could have been the three times we’d made love the next day, but who was I to argue with the goddess?
I finally came clean about the pictures I’d taken without her knowledge. I didn’t want any secrets to live within the perfect world we shared. She’d clicked through each one, punched me in the arm, and that was that. I’d been forgiven.
She became my wife the next day.
“Do you want to hold her?” It was the nurse, smiling at me with kind eyes. “I need to do some tests, but I can give you a minute or two first.”
My heart started beating harder as Aspen was wrapped in a blanket and lifted into my arms. I swallowed hard as her tiny body snuggled against my chest, the past and present colliding as I gazed down at her.
I would never forget my first child, just as I would never forget my first wife. They would always be in my heart. The same shriveled heart that had expanded to allow more love in.
“I’ll always protect you,” I said to my little girl, and she opened her eyes, one side of her mouth curling into what I determined to be a momentary smile. Then she passed gas, and I laughed as I felt it rumble against my arm. “Like Mommy, like baby.”
Zoe rolled her eyes, looking up with a mixture of exhaustion and love. It had been a hard eight hours, but she had been a trooper.
The nurse edged closer, and I kissed the baby’s dark hair before very carefully handing her over. Sitting on the side of the bed, I took Zoe’s hand in mine.
“I love you.”
She smiled, her eyes slowly opening. “I love you too.”
Then I watched her sleep, the four-leaf clover rising and falling on her chest.
Own luck. Own love. Own life. Own legacy.
Indeed.
Zoe
Happy ever afters aren’t just for romance novels and fairy tales after all.
They were possible. I was proof.
My wedding day was part of that evidence and had culminated into a day that I would always remember. There had been nothing fancy about the small affair, just me and Gray, Leslie, and a few of our closest friends. Which weren’t that many. It was perfect.
I’d never forget the way Gray looked at me as I appeared in my flowing dress of organza and silk, holding onto the arm of Leslie’s uncle, Stan. Every woman deserved to have a man look at her the way Gray had looked at me.
“Goddess Zoe, queen of my heart,” he had murmured after Stanley released me into his care.
I’d laughed, which made the day even more perfect. When two people were joined together in the holy bonds of matrimony, laughter should be the sound that filled their ears.
After our honeymoon, we’d shopped for homes in Los Angeles, finding one with a view from the ocean that took my breath. In my best British accent, I declared it my “city home” while the cabin was our “country dwelling.”
Yeah, I was corny, but I’d say or do anything to make my husband smile.
To my great pleasure, he smiled a lot, that little gap between his front teeth always tugging at my heart.
The only time he had stopped smiling was when I peed on a little white stick, him standing in the bathroom doorway while I did.
“Are you afraid I won’t do it right?” I’d asked with a roll of my eyes. I’d peed in front of him many times as our comfort level around each other continued to increase by degrees. But it had been hard to pee that time, being fully observed as I was.
Or maybe it was because he hadn’t been smiling, even with my attempt at humor. He looked tense. Stressed. Distressed.
Considering that we had used zero birth control ever, my condition couldn’t have come as that much of a surprise. I’d suspected a week ago, when I missed my period. We’d been married for three months by then, and as many times as we’d had sex, my only surprise was that it had taken that long.
As soon as I told him that I thought I might be pregnant, he’d hauled me into his truck and we’d driven down the mountain to Pop’s to buy a test.
Mrs. Pops couldn’t have looked more pleased as she rang it up. “Don’t you be making me wait too long to learn the answer,” she’d admonished into my ear as she hugged me extra tight. “Been too long since we had a baby around here. I’ll have to stock up that aisle if that little stick turns pink.”
It did turn pink.
As Gray and I waited the full three minutes, I’d already known the answer. When it was confirmed, he hugged me, holding me tight in his arms. “Are you happy?” I asked, because I honestly couldn’t tell.
“Yes.” The word was raw.
I pulled away, looked up into his face. “It will be okay. This isn’t… before.”
Oh, the pain on his face was gut wrenchingly hard to witness. He’d dropped to his knees, pressing his lips to my belly. “I’ll protect you, little one. I won’t mess up this time, I promise.”
From that moment on, Gray did everything but Bubble Wrap me. You’d have thought I was the first woman to have fallen pregnant from the way he hovered around me. He held my hand if I walked up or down steps. It was annoying. Especially when he refused to have sex.
I’d practically had to hold him down and jump on his dick to make him realize that he wasn’t going to hurt me or the baby. He’d known that already. Heck, he’d already gone through this part of pregnancy with his first wife, but the fear of loss hadn’t been there before.
I loved being pregnant. Loved feeling the baby move, loved watching the little feet and hands poke up. By my fortieth week, I was a little less enamored with the experience. Maybe it was the inability to breathe that took the shine off.
When the first contraction hit, I thought I’d been ready. But nothing in the world could prepared a person for something like that. The pain. Over and over and over, not turning off. Not going away.
Gray had been my rock through the labor. His face had been deathly pale, but he’d been right there, front and center. He held my leg while I pushed, bearing down with all my might. He reached down and touched the baby’s head when it first appeared out of me.
He encouraged as I pushed out the shoulders, screaming through the pain. Then he held his breath, his hand a death grip on me as the doctor suctioned her nose, her mouth.
And when she cried, he nearly sagged to the floor, his relief had been so great.
That had been yesterday, and today little Aspen Cynthia Meadows was going home.
During the pregnancy, Gray, when he wasn’t hovering over me, had been busy. He’d hired contractors to build an addition onto the cabin, giving us plenty of room for our growing family. He cleaned out the extra bedroom, giving everything but the pictures and a few mementos away to charity.
I hadn’t wanted him to do that, but he insisted, thinking it was time. And he had looked peaceful as the charity truck took it away, so I thought he was right. It was time.
Possessions didn’t keep a person’s memory alive. Love did. And I knew that the love he’d had for her had a special place in his heart. Just like I did. Just as his first daughter did. And now Aspen.
Walking into the cabin for the first time with our daughter was another reason I knew happy ever afters could be true. She was adorable in her gown and headband from her Aunt Leslie. The pink and green was a perfect complement to the elegant gray I’d chosen for the nursery.
After giving Maggie and Go plenty of time to sniff and welcome our new addition, I’d carried Aspen to her new room.
“Daddy built this just for you,” I told her, gazing into her beautiful blue eyes.
Gray kissed her hair. “Nothing but the best for my little girl.”
That was when I saw it. Something that hadn’t been there before was hanging on the wall.
A four-leaf clover made out of wood. In each leaf was carved my mantra.
Own luck.
Own love.
Own life.
Own legacy.
“Oh, Gray. It’s so beautiful.”
He kissed my forehead. “I went down the mountain and cut out a section of the Aspen tree that saved you.”
Lifting my hand, I touched the wood, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “This is it.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
I wasn’t sure who or what I was thanking the most. Gray, for this special gift. Or the tree, for giving its own life to save mine.
Maybe I was just thanking the universe. Fate. God. Whatever it was that was giving me this moment to forever cherish.
It didn’t matter, because as Gray took me into his arms, our daughter nestled between us, I promised to be grateful every day.
For the gift of life.
THE END
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