Page 110 of Finding Gideon
At the edge of the barn, a tarp-covered shape stood on two stakes in the ground. Malcolm gave me a wink, then tugged the covering down with a dramatic flourish.
The crowd hushed.
It was a sign. Hand-carved, beautiful, stained wood that looked like it belonged in a storybook. The letters had been burned into the surface with care and precision:
Garrett’s Place
A Sanctuary for Animals and the People Who Love Them
My breath caught.
Garrett.
I hadn’t said his name aloud in weeks, maybe months. It always felt like a tide I couldn’t stand against. But here—it lifted instead of pulled me under.
I looked at Malcolm.
His voice was low, meant only for me. “It was always yours. But now it’s his too.”
My throat burned. I tried to blink back the sting in my eyes, but it was useless. I let the tears come quietly, while Malcolm stepped down from the little platform to stand level with me. His shoulder brushed mine. The town clapped and whooped and celebrated a place born from grief—but now rooted in hope… and love.
A woman stepped forward from the crowd. I recognized her—her little boy had come for a therapy session weeks ago, terrified of everything on four legs. He left hugging a guinea pig and asking to come back.
She held out a folded check. “This is from the community. For medical supplies. And anything else you might need.”
I took it with shaking hands.
Malcolm grinned. “Alright! That’s the mushy part. Let’s eat pie!”
Laughter rolled through the crowd as the music started up behind us again. But I didn’t move—not yet.
I stood in front of the sign with Malcolm, shoulder to shoulder, until my breathing slowed again.
Garrett’s Place.
It was real.
Hours later, the sun dipped low, streaking the sky in watercolor pinks and oranges. A soft breeze carried the scent of hay, barbecue, and the lavender Malcolm and I had planted along the fence line. Most of the guests had gone, trickling out with hugs and thank-yous, promising to come back soon. A few lingered near the barn, talking low, laughter floating through the air.
I stood, arms folded loosely, watching the goats we’d taken in wander the far field. Dennis was belly-up in the grass, soaking up the last of the light.
Footsteps crunched behind me, and then Malcolm was there. No words. Just his presence, warm and grounding.
We stood in silence, side by side.
Somewhere behind us, a screen door slammed.
Then—
“Are you married yet?”
We turned just as Junie came skidding to a stop in front of us, one hand gripping Toast’s leash, the other holding a half-eaten cookie. Her glittery dress was grass-stained. There was icing on her cheek. And she looked between us with the absolute seriousness only a child could muster.
Malcolm let out a short laugh. “Uh. Not yet.”
Junie narrowed her eyes like she wasn’t buying it. Then she shrugged and wandered off, tugging Toast behind her and taking another big bite of her cookie.
Malcolm’s smile lingered as he watched her go. “She’s clearly unimpressed with our timeline.”
