Page 193 of Catch the Sun

A message from our past, from our present, from our future, written like it was meant for us as the words glitter under the sky, brightened in neon-orange highlighter:

“My troubles are all over, and I am at home.”

Epilogue

Ella

One year later

Love conquers all.

That’s what Jonah said to me one evening while we were cooking side by side in the kitchen, eager to surprise Mom with a feast of roasted duck and homemade mashed potatoes. I was only fifteen at the time, but Jonah was nineteen, so I figured he knew a lot about love. He had Erin, after all. Love ignited in his eyes when he spoke of her, and love sparkled in her pretty smile when she looked at him. My brother was an expert on love; I was sure of it. He was a maestro.

“Ella, listen to me, and listen good,” he said, squeezing my shoulder as he sprinkled rosemary onto the meat. “I don’t know much, but I do know this: love conquers all. Love conquerseverything. If you’re ever feeling low—and I mean, rock-bottomlow—remember that, okay? Remember that I love you. Always. And you’ll get through it.”

Love conquers all.

And yet, I’ve always wondered—at what cost?

I take a seat at the round table, the room lit with brassy overhead lights beaming down from a sterile drop ceiling.

He hasn’t changed much since I last saw him.

His hands and shirt aren’t splattered in red, but his eyes still look upon me with that same fierce protectiveness I always saw in them—even on that final fateful afternoon.

“Piglet.” Jonah’s gaze settles on me, his voice oozing affection. He’s seated across from me, uncuffed but fettered in a thousand other ways. “You finally came to see me.”

Shoes squeak against linoleum while correctional officers pace the open visitation room, and I stare at Jonah as he sits slouched in a little blue chair. Hescratches his thick reddish beard and waits for me to speak, knees spread and bobbing up and down, his green eyes glittering like they’ve never looked upon grisly horrors and bloodshed designed by his own hand.

There’s still anger in my heart.

But more than that…there’s peace.

Acceptance.

Love.

Love forme—for my own well-being, my bright future, and for all the people who pulled me to my feet and held me steady through the battering of cold winds and the destruction of one too many hurricanes.

Do I love Jonah?

Do I love this man across from me, looking at me as if nothing has changed, as if we’re still dreamy-eyed kids whipping up recipes and reading stories by the fireplace?

Yes.

I love him. I love pieces of a long-ago life that still cling to me when my mind wanders and my heart reminisces. I love the man he once was, the man he showed me when innocence reigned and heartache felt like something that only happened in books and movies.

I’m allowed to miss moments and cry tears of loss when the sun hides away and shadows take its place.

I’m allowed to love him.

But the key to healing is when you know what to hold on to…

And what to let go of.

Despite that love.

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” I tell Jonah, watching his expression shift into surprise, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline.

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