EPILOGUE
Time passed faster than I ever would have expected. I spent a fortnight on the farm—a honeymoon of sorts, the best sort I would have imagined, what I’d longed for, and then I went back to work.
The months were happy and expectant, and I started to look more pregnant around New Year. Then, three months later, my baby daughter was born.
“Kelly!”
Reese was there in the delivery room and, when I opened my eyes, exhausted and slightly dizzy, he was there before me, face flushed, eyes a picture of torment and concern.
“Reese,” I said weakly. I chuckled. He looked as if he thought I was going to be eaten by tigers. “Have you seen her?”
“Have I seen her?” he giggled. “I couldn’t stop looking. Wouldn’t have. But I needed to be here…” he was bending over me, kissing my face all over and I laughed and pushed him away. “Are you okay?”
“I am,” I said with a big happy smile. “But if you suffocate me I might be worse for wear.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He sat right back on the chair beside the bed. His handsome expression was twisted with such a shamed look that I felt bad.
“I was joking, dearest. I’m so glad to see you. Just sleepy.”
“I’m sure you are!” he said, eyes wide with horror. “You’ve been having a baby for five hours! That’s so long!”
“It’s not long,” the doctor, who was hovering, said; impassively. I chuckled.
“I guess it’s not. But I love that you were so worried for me,” I said to Reese.
He grinned. “I thought they were going to give me sedation!”
I laughed. “Probably should have,” I said, then coughed. I was tired. Everything hurt.
“Can I see her again?” he asked. I chuckled weakly.
“Of course. They’re just checking her. Doing whatever they do. They’ll bring her hear in a moment.”
They did. I couldn’t quite believe it as the nurse put her into my arms. I looked down at her face. She was red-faced, sleepy and with those tiny, elfin features that seemed impossibly perfect. I couldn’t describe how my heart felt as I looked down at her. Nothing could ever have prepared me for it. Three parts adorations, one part a fierce intensity of devotion that almost scared me. I looked at Reese. I could see in his eyes that he felt the same thing.
“Can I hold her?” he asked.
“Sure,” I whispered. I really was tired. My arms wobbled a little as he took her small weight from me and I lay back on the pillows, hair sticking to my perspiring forehead, as I watched my Reese and our tiny, perfect daughter.
“She’s so beautiful,” Reese said, wonder light in his voice. “What…” He paused. “What do you want to name her?”
I bit my lip. I had thought about this a lot. I had the perfect name. I wasn’t sure if he would like it, but I had to give it a try.
“Hayley,” I said.
“For your grandfather, yes?”
I nodded, my voice tight with tears. My grandfather’s name was Greg Hayley. It was the perfect choice of a name for her. Like him, I thought she would be courageous and gentle both.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
I nodded. “I think so too.”
And that was decided.
When I came out of hospital, I went straight to the farm. I was surprised by how Reese had worked on it—even since I was here a few months ago, it looked more well kept, and inside it was starting to feel like a proper home. My home.
The months passed more fleetingly than I could have imagined and before long it was New Year again. Mom came to visit, and Grandpa came up too. We all celebrated together.
As I sat at the table, opposite Reese, I couldn’t believe I was so lucky.
Later, we kissed in the darkened bedroom. A fire was burning in the grate, the glow of coals the only light beside the fitful light of distant, huge stars. I was in his arms and we were warm and kissing.
Beside the bed, Hayley was asleep in her crib and the room was silent and calm, the only sound besides our breath the sound of crickets, rasping in the scrubby bushes by the kitchen door.
I looked into those dark brown eyes and felt my soul soften in their warm, loving depths.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too.”
We kissed.
I lay in his arms in the sweet safety of our house, my baby beside me, and felt amazed by the way my life had all turned out.
Because life is simpler than you think, sometimes: the signs are always there, written on our hearts, to guide us. And love is simpler still. As simple as kisses, as close as a tender touch.
The End