Page 80 of Fire Harbor

Epilogue

Four weeks later

By Memorial Day, the wildflowers had taken over Lake’s front lawn. The vibrant colors of May danced in the gentle breeze, creating a patchwork of beauty that stretched as far as the property line. Lake spent hours wandering through her yard, tending to each flower or pulling the ever-present weed. This season gave her a special sense of contentment as she watched the bees flutter from flower to flower, collecting nectar in a harmonious act of springtime. Butterflies gathered, intoxicated by the sweet nectar of the blooms, spreading pollen from one blossom to the other.

Every morning before work, she would step outside with a cup of steaming Vienna coffee and wander through the sea of wildflowers that now enveloped her once neatly trimmed lawn. The colors seemed to dance in the early light, swaying gently with the breeze that carried the sweet scent of fragrant lilies. She would often lose track of time as she meandered through the vibrant tapestry of nature, feeling more grateful than usual.

These days, she couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty that surrounded her. The riot of colors spilled onto the pathway leading to the backyard, where the garden stood in all its glory.

She wandered through the rows of vegetables, admiring the plump tomatoes and vibrant peppers growing under the warm sun. She could almost taste the fresh salsa she would create that first week of June.

As she reached the towering sunflowers at the edge of the garden, a flash of color caught her eye. A lone monarch butterfly flitted gracefully among the patch of marigolds, new this year, but a symbol of transformation, at least for her. Like the butterfly dancing among the blooms, her garden reminded her that beauty could be found in the simplest of places.

That could be said for love.

She looked up to see Linus, bare-chested with sweat running down to his abs, pushing a wheelbarrow from the shed over to the raised beds. The dogs Jack, Scout, and Farley trailed after him like good soldiers on parade.

Who knew that the man of her dreams would love gardening and dogs as much as she did? How lucky could one girl get?

“Are you planning to stand around, or are you gonna help me plant the watermelon and pumpkins?” Linus teased.

“Do you mind? I’m admiring the view. Besides, I did most of the work yesterday. It’s my turn to just watch,” she added with a playful wink.

He grinned. “You did more than watch a few hours ago.”

“One of the perks of a lazy Sunday morning,” Lake fired back as she leaned on the shovel she’d picked up to help.

“And one I wouldn’t trade for the world,” Linus replied, his eyes full of love and mischief. The dogs barked excitedly, running circles around the couple as they worked in harmony under the warm sun.

His gray-green eyes danced with affection as he scooped up some soil and began planting the watermelon seedlings while she dug holes for the pumpkin plants she’d germinated from seeds. The dogs frolicked around them, adding to the cheerful, sunny day.

After getting the plants in the ground, Lake couldn’t help but marvel at how life had changed since Linus had come into it. She used to think that happiness was something reserved for others, never realizing that it was within her reach all along.

Their laughter rang out through the garden, mingling with the symphony of songbirds chirping in the birch tree. For Lake, this was a moment of complete joy, a snapshot in time when everything felt right in the world.

She looked at Linus, his hands caked with dirt and his smile lighting up her soul, and she knew that this was everything she’d ever wanted. Right here, right now. With the earthy scents from the garden lingering in the air, surrounded by the beauty of wildflowers and the promise of a bountiful harvest, Lake couldn’t have been happier.

They hadn’t discussed the future. But that was okay with her because she was in no hurry to commit to more than they had.

Then there was his mother. What could she say about Annette Canfield? The woman had an opinion about everything and loved to share it. Stubborn yet fiercely independent, Annette vowed never to be a burden to anyone. How could Lake find fault with that sentiment when she was much the same way?

Deep in those kinds of thoughts, Lake saw Linus glance toward the gate. She followed the track of his eyes and spotted Cora Bigelow coming around the corner of the house into the backyard. She almost didn’t recognize the postmistress without her blue postal uniform. Instead, Cora wore a button-down dress in buttery yellow.

Linus unfolded from his stance near the ground. “Hey, Ms. Bigelow, what brings you by on a Sunday?”

“Now, Linus, you’re always so formal and polite. How many times do I have to tell you that everybody calls me Cora? And I don’t mind the informality of it one bit.”

“Cora, it is,” Linus said. “Did you come to take a look at Lake’s magnificent garden?”

“Our magnificent garden,” Lake corrected. “He’s put more work into it than I have this year. I know you’re fond of fresh strawberries, Cora. Give me a few weeks and I’ll have all you can eat.”

A sheepish look crossed Cora’s face. “That sounds wonderful. Any time I can stand here and admire such a successful garden, it puts me in awe of anyone possessing a green thumb, which I do not. Sewing has always been my thing. But unfortunately, that’s not why I dropped by.” She cleared her throat. “As postmistress, I’m always embarrassed when we let down our customers.”

Lake frowned. “What do you mean? You haven’t let me down.”

“Oh, but we have. I found this letter addressed to you postmarked two weeks ago. I discovered it quite by accident when my coffee inexplicably spilled behind my workspace, and I had to clean up the mess. I have no idea how your mail ended up wedged between the wall and my desk. Because of the inconvenience, I’m delivering it personally. There’s no excuse for that kind of sloppy sorting and processing. I take pride in running an efficient outfit. As you can see, there’s no return address, so the only thing to do was make sure you received it.”

Lake took the envelope and studied the handwriting but didn’t recognize the scrawl. “I appreciate you going the extra mile. Thank you. I’m not sure who could’ve sent me a letter, usually people just email.”

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