Page 172 of For Wrath and Redemption
“It’s a good gift,” I whisper to her, and she nods.
“Yeah. It’s a great gift.”
“That’s not all,” Mabel says, and Claire looks back at her. “The flowers.”
She gestures to the vase of flowers on the counter, and Claire studies it. At first, it’s just a bouquet of flowers, but then she realizes something. Once again, with trembling fingers, she reaches for the flowers. She pulls them closer, then spins them on the tabletop.
Then it dawns on me.
She’s not looking at the flowers. She’s looking at the vase. So I do, too.
It’s ceramic. Handmade, I realize. And hand-painted from the looks of it. It’s decorated with lots of little images resembling something out of a Rockwell painting. Street signs and small-town businesses. A grocery store. A hardware store. A youth center. A public school. Two houses.
“It’s my hometown,” she whispers. “She painted my hometown.”
“Who did?”
“Lennon.” Claire smiles at me then looks at Mabel. “Did Macon make the vase?”
Mabel nods. “Yeah.”
“How? How did you get it?”
“She emailed the label, the label forwarded it to Hammond, and Hammond sent it to me.”
“What did she say?”
Mabel nods again. “She asked if she could send me a gift to give you when the baby came. She wanted it to be a surprise.”
Claire nods, her attention falling back to the vase as she clutches the sleeper to her chest. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and we sit in the silence with her. Teddy’s soft breathing and Claire’s quiet tears are all I focus on. I rub her shoulder, a silent gesture to let her know that I’m here, and I wait.
When she’s processed it all, she tells Mabel thank you, then changes the subject. We spend the next few hours talking about nothing in particular and laughing about everything, and it feels good.
Torren, Sav, and Mabel are my oldest friends. They were my first example of what a family should be. My proof that people could love me for who I was without pretense or condition. It got fucked up for a while, convoluted as we each fought with our demons, but they never gave up on me. Not even when they probably should have. They have always been there boosting me up when I was drowning, forcing breath into my lungs when I was suffocating. Keeping me alive when all I wanted was to disappear. To have them still here, after everything, feels like a miracle.
Later that night, Claire and I lie in bed with our daughter between us. We’re both on our sides, splitting time between gazing at each other and at her. At this little amazing bundle of life that we created together. The light Claire brought to my darkness. I take Teddy’s small hand, and she wraps it around one of my fingers.
I don’t know how I got here. I’m still not sure I deserve it. But I know I won’t fuck it up again.
Of all the raw emotions swirling in my chest right now, the strongest one is gratitude.
“Trouble?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
She raises her eyes from Teddy and locks them with mine. “For what?”
“For seeing my ugliest parts and loving me anyway.”
“Every part of you is beautiful to me.” She smiles softly, then reaches up and cups my cheek. “I love you, Jonah Theodore Hendrix. I love you endlessly.”
EPILOGUE
CLAIRE
One Year Later
