I look at the clock and see that it's 7:30, and a hint of sunlight still shines through the windows. I stand and shut the curtains, and then take my most prized possession, my guitar, and carry it out to the porch.
Sitting on the steps I position my guitar in my lap and begin singing the song that I always return to; If God Only Knows. The one that I will probably always return to. The song that means more now than it ever did. The song that has become my heart's offering to James; a way to remember him now that he is gone.
As I'm strumming, I hear a car come up the road, quickly. My hands start shaking immediately, fear rising in my belly. The lyrics, God only knows what I'd be without you... I don't want them to be true. I want to know who I am when I am alone, I want to be strong and courageous even if I've lost half my heart.
I blink back my fear as the car comes to halt. I stand, pulling shut the door to the cabin, the only protection I can offer my babies.
The car engine cuts off within a matter of seconds; I don't have time to run even if I wanted. But I don't want to—I can't leave my children.
And then the man gets out of the car. A big burly, muscled man with a beard and—and oh my God.
He is here.
He isn't dead.
God only knows what I'd be without you.
I don't want to know.
And now you are here.
And I won't have to know.
I'm running then, tripping over my legs and falling to the ground and lying at his feet and pulling him to me and I don't how this is real—but it is. I touch his boots; they are leather and I cling to his legs and they aren't broken and I reach for his hands and they are rough and calloused and familiar.
He pulls me to him, refusing to let go.
And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They are the eyes I see when I close my own at night. And his arms, they wrap around me, reminding me of the past.
And his lips, they find mine. And they bring me to the present.
The here and the now and our dream for a future.
His kiss.
His kiss.
It is real.
James is here.
And he is mine.
Chapter Ten
I pull her to me, she’s a mess of tears and long flowing hair and sunburned cheeks and she’s shaking.
Shaking like she saw a ghost.
"I thought you were dead," she says, pulling from my lips, sobs escaping her, her heart pounding so loudly I press my hand to her breast to steady it. Steady her. Touch her. Feel her.
She is real.
This is no dream.
This is destiny.
"I thought—" She covers her mouth, then she drops her hands and then they are on my rough face, over my beard, and through my long hair. "James, I thought you were gone."
I shake my head, pushing her loose hair from her tear-streaked face. "I'm not gone, love, I'm here. I'm here now."
"It's been... so long, James. I thought..." She shakes her head, and I wrap my arms tightly around her, hating to see her broken, unable to believe I've found her myself. What on God's green Earth is she doing here?
I take her hand, leading her to a big oak tree several yards from the house, because where else would I lead this woman?
I explain how I was left for dead; how Jonah kept me alive. How we struggled for a year but I was determined to come back here and fight for her... only to find that she was gone. That the entire compound was a ghost town.
"But then I came to see Harper, and decided to come here, to my uncle's old cabin until I came up with a plan as to how to find you... and here you are."
"You found me." She covers her eyes as tears continue to escape her. "I really thought you were dead, James, and I had no one I could talk about it with. I grieved you... I wept for you... and here you are."
I pull her to me, kissing her again, softly. "Here I am." I cup her face with my palms, our lips brushing, she smells like a wood fire and fresh air, like earth. She smells like hard work and determination, but more than that, she smells free.
And she looks free too. Different than I've ever seen her. Her hair is loose, not tied in a long braid. She isn't wearing a blouse, buttoned to the neck, and buttoned at the wrists. She isn't in her regular hand-sewn skirt either, she wears nothing but a nightgown.
"James," she whispers, leaning into my hand, pressing my other hand to her other cheek. "Is this a dream?"
I shake my head. "This is us finally catching a goddamn break."
"Don't let go of me, James. Now or ever." She looks at me, asking me for a promise I wanted to keep before, but wasn't able to. I want to believe nothing could ever take me from her again, but I also know that sometimes life has a way of fucking you over.
Sometimes the fight isn't fair.
Still, in this moment, I choose to believe I will fight all her demons, protect her for always. Right now, I want to believe my love for her is big enough to conquer whatever may come our way.