She lifted her head and they kissed, their hearts full of emotion and their heads filled with a lifetime of memories.
THE END . . . Almost.
34
Grace Stevens
Ben handed the scissors to Grace. "You take the honors, Mrs. Edwards."
"You sure?" she asked eagerly.
"Absolutely."
Grace snipped the large red ribbon and the bow fell to the wooden porch under their feet. Everyone they loved and who loved them clapped as Ben turned the knob, opening the door to their brand new home.
He bent at the knees and lifted his wife into his arms. Grace grabbed her very protruding, very pregnant stomach in anticipation as she was hoisted up. "You don't have to do this, you know. I'm kind of big now."
"Kind of?"
"Oh, shut it!"
"I'm just teasing, baby. You're still beautiful and light as a feather," Ben lied, smiling so she wouldn't feel bad. No doubt he was feeling the extra weight in his arms and struggled not to drop her. He had promised her, so there was no way he wouldn't carry her across the threshold of their home. That was her man. Always keeping promises in the way he loved her.
She laughed and he laughed, holding steady. He carried her inside and set her down on the couch in the living room of the house they'd built on the property line that separated their parents' properties. It faced the lake, and was right beside the tree he had engraved his love for her on.
G. Forever yours, B.
The next day, Grace gave birth to a baby girl. Hope Elizabeth Edwards. The name was fitting for their baby, the emotion that renewed Ben and Grace's faith in this world after it had ripped them apart.
She had been convinced she must have done something right in another life to have a man like Ben Edwards love her. And she knew. There had been no denying the truth, the reason for her joy and hope.
Saying yes to his love was the best thing she'd ever done.
It wasn't luck that brought them back together. It wasn't chance that he found her that night at the dinner. Grace often spoke of destiny, and how karma wielded for good, and bad. And he could give her that, but Ben knew better when it came to them. Like the day her family moved next door to his, their lives changed forever. The moment he laid eyes on her, he felt it-magic. They were always meant to be.
It was serendipity.
And they lived happily ever after.
The End. For real. Or for now.
If you enjoyed Missing Grace, you might also enjoy Until I Met You. The prologue and chapter one are next or you can download here:
Until I Met You
Part I
Until I Met You
PROLOGUE
The bars were rusted. The dingy paint was chipping on the inside of the windowsill, and her gown was fraying along the ties. She took in and then slowly released a long breath, even though the air she was breathing was stale. She wondered if the vent was blocked, but it was too high for her to reach. So she remained flat on her back on the bare mattress with the springs poking into her. Jude had a knack for lying very still for hours on end. This was how she stayed sane. This was how she survived.
Don't give them anything.
Don't give into them.
Fight.
Fight.
Fight.
Hold on.
One more day.
Hold on.
Love wasn't about reason.
Love wasn't rational.
The heart charged forth with love on its wings to spite the possibility of the bloodshed aftermath.
1
Jude Boehler
Maybe it was the music-an instrumental version of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" played melodically through the Upper East Side apartment. Or maybe it was traces of the pink pills still in her system. Her mental freedom was slowly awakening her dormant mind.
Either way, Jude Boehler liked this party.
She liked the suits that surrounded her, the women who ignored her. She liked being invisible. So wonderfully rare not to be under a microscope.
Jude swayed to the music while nitpicking her way through the trays of food on display. She tried a few of the fancy appetizers but put back what she didn't like. Grabbing a celery stick, she dipped it in the creamy sauce next to it. Nice. She dipped again.
"You shouldn't double-dip," she heard a man say.
Continuing to swirl the celery through the dip in a figure eight, she looked up. While taking a large bite her gaze traveled over the charcoal-gray suit-clad banker type, and she swallowed. And smiled. Then laughed as she dunked her celery in the dip again as if she had never heard him. She took another bite, this time louder while looking into the eyes he hid behind black-framed glasses. Lifting up on the balls of her feet, she tried to see them more clearly. Not appeased, she dropped back down and asked, "What color are your eyes?"