Page 119 of Free to Live
I send a prayer of thanks up to whomever wants to accept my gratitude.
65
Holly
Two days later, I’m wearing one of the outfits Joe sent to the house for me. It’s an adorable linen berry shirt dress with the most perfect name of any Free People design. Ever. In fact, it’s so perfect, I made Phil go online and order it for me in two other colors since using a computer is still a bit of a challenge.
The style is called Italian Love Story.
I don’t know if Joe bought it for me because of the design or the name, but as I cradle a large bouquet of white roses and forget-me-nots toward Mary’s grave, with my engagement ring bouncing against my chest on the chain Joe boxed with my new lounging pajamas, I feel serene. Because I get it now.
Love is the strength of two people who live through the trials and tribulations of everyday life and still want to hold on to each other when the sun goes down every night. Hardship and pain are going to happen, but through forgiveness, mistakes have the chance to be corrected. Hearts can be mended. Together, you can move on.
That kind of love is what I’ve built with Joe. And in the ashes of my house fire, what we’ll rebuild.
Approaching Mary’s grave, I know what I’m going to say to the woman whose life had to be cut short for me to find mine.
And it starts with two simple words.
“Thank you.” My voice is still rough and scratchy. Jason and the doctors assure me it will be back to normal with care and not abusing it. “For so much. First, for Grace. All she will ever know is that she was loved and wanted because she was—is,” I amend. I feel a slight breeze waft over my skin. I lift my face to it and smile.
“As for Joe, we’re so blessed to be loved by him, Mary. Both of us. You were so young, yet you recognized that his heart was worth any fight. It almost cost me my life, but I can’t say I wouldn’t go through it again so long as it led me to now.” Reaching up, I clasp my engagement ring in my hand. “I swear to you I will make them both happy for as long as I live.”
“Why don’t you turn around and tell me that so we can get started?” a rough voice says behind me. Spinning, I drop Mary’s bouquet at my feet.
“Joe.” Within seconds, his strong arms are wrapped around me like he’s never going to let me go. I inhale his scent, so fresh and clean in comparison to the acrid smell of smoke that’s been seared in my brain no matter how hard I try to get rid of it. I feel his hair against my fingers, the silky smoothness so gentle against my still-tender skin. His heart is pounding against mine. I realize how close I came to losing him not only because of my fear but because of chance.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage to get out before burying my head against his shoulder to let the torrent of tears fall. He doesn’t say anything; he just holds me tighter. For right now, that’s all I need.
We stand there for long minutes, not moving as the wind blows gently around us in harmony with the rustling leaves in the trees shadowing Mary’s grave. Pulling back slightly, I use my damaged hands to trace the worry lines away from his face. Each millimeter I trace smooths out, returning his distressed features to the handsome man I left behind in Rhode Island.
He continues to regard me solemnly throughout my tactile perusal. “What would I have done if you were lying right here next to her because of me?”
“This isn’t your fault.” My denial, swift though the shaft of pain from his quiet words, is deep.
“Everyone keeps trying to tell me you saved your family, that the fire would have spread to Ali and Corinna’s homes.” Joe slides a hand into my hair. “I’m not in love with them. I’m in love with you. And you were supposed to be lying beside me wearing nothing but my ring, Hols. Instead, because of my carelessness, I almost lost you.” His hand slides out of my hair to cup my jaw. “I swear to God, I will never be that insensitive again.”
“You weren’t. Not intentionally. I overreacted.” But he needs to understand something that’s been on my mind. “Do you think I could have lived with the knowledge something happened to my family?”
His brow lowers. “Of course not.”
“Do you believe things happen for a reason?” When his look changes to one of confusion, I press him harder. “Do you think maybe—just maybe—everything happened the way it did because it needed to? I wouldn’t have been able to have lived with myself if my family was harmed, but what if I always wondered about you and Mary? Instead, everyone is safe and I know, Iknow, down to my soul how much you love me. Regardless of what I was, did, done, will do.” My voice cracks between the overuse and the power of the emotions I’m feeling. “You love me.”
“Forever,” he growls. “Never doubt that no matter what stupid things I may do over the years, sweetheart.”
Running my hand over his cheek, I whisper the words that have been ready to burst from my heart since I saw his face on my phone just days ago. “I promise to love you, I promise to honor you, and I promise always to fight to live. That’s all I can do.”
Slowly he smiles, both of his perfect dimples appearing. Staring down into my eyes, he murmurs, “I love those words. How about we work them into our wedding vows?”
I nod even as his head lowers. Just a quick graze of his lips against mine, a vow of its own kind.
A promise of more.
Later.
“Right now, sweetheart, we have a delayed-early birthday party to get to. Grace is anxious to see you.” Joe tugs my arm.
“Is that what you’re calling it now? She doesn’t turn four until October, Joe.” It’s just barely August.
