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Epilogue

Lucas

Two Months Later

Ilean back on my elbows and let the sun warm my face. Seagulls call to each other overhead and a breeze blows in off the water, cooling my skin. I pull myself back up to a sitting position and look out to the water. Riley and Mason bob in the waves on their boards. I can’t believe how fast she’s healed. Granted, Mason has had to intervene on occasions when she’d become a bit stubborn with asking for help. But I’ve learned it’s harder to say no to a little boy trying to help his stepmom. Probably because assisting seems to have helped my son feel needed himself, feel like he has a purpose.

And as a parent, there’s no greater power than helping your child build their confidence.

My parents even offered to come up and help. But Riley didn’t want a big fuss made over her. And while I love my parents, they’re still angry at me for not filling them in when Riley and I got married. If they did visit there’d be a whole group of people they could join who were upset over the fact I kept my involvement in the program a secret. And one thing is certain, Tony would only stroke those flames to watch me squirm.

Mom is ultimately happy. She even came to do some basic yoga routines with Riley when we were still in Texas. And when I left because of work, she continued to visit Riley at her parents’ a couple of times. Supposedly, my mother-in-law has signed up for my mom’s class at the local studio. Never saw that coming, but glad they are getting along.

If only our fathers would follow suit. But Mr. Thompson isn’t the only one with a stubborn streak. My father is just as bad. Not that he is against my relationship with Riley. He just wants nothing to do with her father and refuses to step foot in the same room as the other man. Not too worried, though, because there is no way my mother will allow him to miss my wedding. Or start a fight with the bride’s father.

I smile and watch as my fiancé and son spring to their feet. The wave isn’t huge—even I could probably stay up on it—but Mason’s posture changes as he glides toward the beach. He stands a little taller. My guess is he feels a little bit of the power that Riley talks about when she tells me what she loves about surfing.

He’s also been standing taller a lot now that he’s back at his old school. I really appreciate the sacrifice Lisa’s making. It adds to her commute, but in the end, she agreed with Riley and me. Mason needs to be at a school where the staff and the kids understand the special challenges faced by military families and the even more pressing ones faced by kids whose fathers are SEALs.

Riley’s been standing taller, too, since she started the new medication. It’s only a trial, but so far it seems to be helping her. She says she’s having less pain and her appetite has even increased a bit.

The two of them saunter up and plant their boards next to where we’ve set out our towels. “How was it?” I ask.

“Awesome,” Mason says, plopping down next to me, water still dripping from his hair. “It was like I was flying.”

I smile and toss him a towel. “Hungry?”

“Starving!” He shakes his head like a puppy getting dry, spraying water everywhere. Riley and I both laugh, something we always seem to be doing, especially when she attempts to play video games. Never seen her suck at something so badly.

“You’re always starving these days,” she says to Mason. “Somebody’s growing.”

Mason puffs himself up a little more. “I’m the second tallest boy in my class!”

Riley looks at me from beneath her eyelashes. “I’m not surprised. Look at who your father is, after all.”

Mason looks over at me, too, water beaded in his eyelashes. “Yeah. I guess Dad is pretty tall.”

Riley opens the cooler and pulls out the lunches she made for all of us this morning. Turkey-and-cheese sandwich for me. PB&J for Mason. A hard-boiled egg and some carrots for her. It doesn’t look like enough to me, but she says it’s better to eat a bunch of little meals than two or three big ones. She knows what she has to do to stay well. I trust her to do it and to let me know when she needs my help.

Mason tucks in, barely chewing before he takes another bite. “Easy there, champ,” she says.

Then she pulls an envelope out and hands it to me. I smile at her, running my fingers over the smooth paper.

“Go on, then,” she says. “Read it.”

I open the envelope and unfold the letter.

Dear Lucas,

I feel like I’m living a dream and I never want to wake up. For years it felt like I was trapped in a nightmare. Nothing felt real except the pain and sadness of what had become of my life. I was too weak to fight the way life pushed me one way and then the other. I doubted if I’d ever be able to stand on my own two feet. As soon as I was well enough to leave home, I did, but I was sure the only way to be strong was to never lean on anyone.

Then the Issued Partner Program put us together. I was sure it was a terrible mistake. Now I know better. Those folks know what they’re doing!

Back when I sent you away all those years ago, I thought it was the strong thing to do. I thought I was protecting you from having to take care of someone weak. Now I realize how cowardly it truly was. Real strength comes from being honest, from showing the people you care about who you really are and trusting that they will still love you. You’ve taught me that. You’ve showed me that real strength comes when we lean on each other.

I feel whole for the first time since I went in for that first surgery. I’m not just one thing. I’m not just Riley the Sick Girl. That no longer defines me. My love for you and for Mason is what defines me now, and I couldn’t be happier.

Always and forever,

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