by Josh Wyatt
The Pact
Our Journey Home
#1 Best-selling United States Drama Author
Chapter excerpt from “The Pact” | Written by:
J O S H W Y A T T
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright Notice
All rights reserved. Copyright Josh Wyatt 2014. No part of this book may be reproduced without permission in writing from the publisher. All rights reside with the author.
Dedication
I dedicate this piece of literature to those and their hearts who have loved—and lost. To those that have found and who’s hearts are still searching. Hold on to the memory and even to the possibility within before it fades. Imprint it upon your heart. Cherish the moment, the day that two hearts beat together as one, because to share LOVE, is to be lucky. Not everyone gets a second chance at true love. Hold on to what you have, to what you had with all you are—never to let go. Remember. Remember the heartprint that was made or left behind and know regardless of how it lasts or how it ended, that you are truly blessed for sharing it; for sharing a little thing called, love.
It changes, everything…
Author’s Note
May this story truly warm the heart, stir the soul, and regale the mind. I hope that you, my reader friends, enjoy this tale of second chances as much as I did while writing it. You all matter to me more than you will ever know. Your love and support is what allows me to share my work with the world. THANK YOU!
Epilogue: Together, Forever
6 years later
****
A long, winding path of freshly poured pavement lies before me. Down the pathway in a straight, perfect row, stand pretty wooden multicolored mailboxes planted deep into the lush green grass of Lovers Lane.
I take in the scenery. The sun is setting fast over the hillside. I feel the gentle kiss of the afternoon air on my skin; it is pleasant---and soothing. The birds are chirping from the treetops, singing a song of happiness, the one we’ll all dance to for the rest of our lives.
Tears form at the corners of my lashes. They fall. I do not fight them away.
They aren’t tears of sadness, but tears of joy. I’ve found my happily ever after and they’ve found theirs too; my best friends.
I look to my right and see a very beautiful, Victorian-styled home. Its shutters are as white as lamb’s wool. Its stout, white wooden beams support its long, old-fashioned porch. There’s a swing made just for two, rocking back and forth with the wind.
A large, brown-stained door is shut tight. The neighborhood is so quiet I can hear the voices of friends conversing together inside.
An antique lamp illuminates the dusk as I peer into a large window. I smile as I pass; what I see warms my heart.
Clare and Ethan look so perfect, so blissful having a romantic candlelit dinner. They are looking into each other’s loving eyes. They are holding one another’s hands with both their hearts beating together as one.
I walk on.
To my right I see warm light escaping through an open doorway a few houses down. An older woman is standing inside looking out to a man I think, I know; he’s her husband, Gregory.
A taxi cab sits at the edge of the curb. A couple of bags are slung over the man’s shoulder. He appears to be repositioning his things inside the trunk.
He finally finishes and opens one of the back doors of the cab, throwing his duffel bags into the backseat carelessly. He turns to look back at the woman waiting at the front door, Melinda, Clare’s mother. He is saddened. I’m sure he now mourns the life he had, but doesn’t have anymore.
He raises a hand in farewell, but she doesn’t.
He drops his hand and disappears into the darkness. The door of the cab slams and within seconds it pulls away.
As it passes, I catch a glimpse of him, the man who slept with my mother. Our eyes connect for a split second. I begin to feel his pain, his regret, his emptiness, but it’s too late.
He let a single mistake from the past take away a good life he could’ve had in the present. What a shame.
My eyes shift to the woman as I pass her house. Her gaze it set upon me. Maybe she’s still angry at me for what my mother did---the way Clare was.
I don’t know.
I smile and nod. I part my lips to speak.
“Hello,” I slow my pace, “How are you?”
She smiles too.
“I’m fine,” she nods, “And you?”
I release a long tired sigh. Thank God she doesn’t hate me.
“Good.” The nervousness I was beginning to feel inside fades away like ice cream on a sunny afternoon. “I’m doing great, actually.”
I walk on.
Finally, only a little more to go and I’ll be there. I’ll be with the one who holds my heart; my beautiful and loving husband.
I go a little further and then cross the street, the sound of my heels clack consistently on the dark glistening gravel of the road.
The street lanterns light as I reach out to unlatch a little, ivory-covered, iron gate, connected to a white picket fence.
I make my way along the stony sidewalk up to the front door of my dream home; a dazzling two-story Victorian, trimmed in burgundy and white, overlooking Lovers Lake.
I don’t have to knock. Someone is expecting me.
The porch lamp flicks on and bathes the well-manicured lawn in beautiful golden light.
“It’s me,” I stand on my tip toes, trying to peek into the little window of the large wooden door, “It’s Alyssa. I’m home.”
There is a rustle. The lock clicks and the door springs open. Two arms welcome me in. They embrace me. I fall into them without a care in this world.
I’m lost in this moment with him. The one I never truly forgot; the one who never forgot me.
“I love you sweetheart,” He holds me tighter, closer; “You are my first---my last---my forever.”
Tears fall from my eyes again. I’m overcome. I’m thrilled beyond words, beyond measure, that I’ve found the missing piece of my heart, my one and only true love.
“I love you too, Chance,” I rest my head upon his strong, comforting shoulder, “We finally have each other again, we found the love, our love that we thought was lost. Our hearts found their way back.”
We just stand here holding one another. We stay out of time, out of reality. We sway back and forth to the beat of both our hearts; together after all these years.
We gaze deep into each other’s eyes and our lips meet.
We hold on to this kiss, remembering our first---dreading the day when we share our last.
His gentle hand cups my warm cheek. My shaky hands caress the broadness of his chest.
Our foreheads touch, our lips slowly part. Our love surrounds us, fills us until we are drunken; romantically intoxicated.
We both smile until we laugh, then we cry. We cry for what we had and lost, for what we have now. For what we’ve found; love.
We don’t know what the future holds, but we look forward to it, to us. We seat ourselves on the last step of the porch, shielding ourselves with an old quilt grandma made before she past, before she went away to be with grandpa in heaven.
We sit together whispering the night away, Chance behind and me in front, my hands interlocked with his.
“What does it mean to come home?” I lean my head against Chance’s shoulder and stare into his beautiful, piercing hazel eyes. “To really and truly come home?”
He breaks my gaze for a moment. He focuses on my twinkling wedding r
ing in the pale moonlight.
“Well, babe,” he brings his gaze back to mine. He searches my eyes for an answer that’s already within. “It means, finding a place in someone’s heart to stay forever, a place full of love, a place where you feel safe and secure.”
He sighs softly feeling more contentment than he ever has in his entire life. I can see it all in his eyes. He finishes where he left off.
“Home is a place,” He smiles warmly back at me, “That will always be there to shelter you---and I, from the storm…”
****
-The End -
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