I rolled down my window, and General Lee leaned on the long plank in a way that was sort of weirdly reminiscent of a musket.
“Who is it?” I asked, stating the obvious and ducking down to admire the fish-scale scallop decorations and the stunning clematis in bright pink and white.
“The guy’s around here somewhere. Waiting for the inspector.” He looked slowly side to side as if he were considering something way more expansive than a suburban yard. Like, say, Shiloh or Manassas.
I gripped the steering wheel hard and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” I said and began to take my foot off the brake.
And that was when I saw it. Sitting on the front porch, on the beautiful old porch swing, was a backpack. With a bright-orange patch sewn onto it.
Gabe. Gabe was here.
The goose bumps I’d gotten in the museum basement were nothing compared to these. I threw my van in park, flung open my door, and ran up the front walkway with my petticoats gathered in my hands like a cancan dancer. I thundered up the front steps and ran to the front door. But before I got there, it swung open. And there he was.
With his arms open wide.
Oh that hug, my God, that hug. His arms around me, his laughter, his warmth. I clung to him, and he staggered back, pulling me down on top of him on the shiny staircase. I showered him with kisses as a new wave of tears fell down my cheeks. Happiness tears now, though. Pure, unfiltered happiness. He took my cheeks in his hands and kissed me—a fairy-tale kiss from my very own prince that went on and on and on.
Finally, we both pulled away for a breath. Even though it was heaven to be in his arms, I had a lot I needed him to know, and I launched into a full-scale babble. “I was coming to see you. I got my passport renewed. It’ll be ready the day after tomorrow. I was on my way to go home and buy a ticket. But now here you are.” I gasped for a breath and pressed my finger into his chest. “Here you are. I can’t believe it.”
He drew his head back from mine, searching my face. “Really? You were going to come to me?”
I nodded, feeling my cheeks flush and still panting from the thrill of running up the steps and into his arms. “I don’t want you tethered to me here. There is so much I want to see out there in the world, and I can’t think of anybody I’d rather do it with than you.”
He swept my hair aside and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
My heart sank, and I made a kind of strangled croak. I’d already preworried my way into the second in-flight movie and whether or not I’d do better in an aisle or a window seat. “Please just let me try.”
Gabe answered first with that cocky, delicious smile of his. “Oh, I’ll let you try all right,” he said. “But I mean I don’t like the sound of you buying your own ticket. I want to be the one to buy your tickets. And I want to buy you something else too.”
And then, very slowly, he glanced around the foyer . . . and raised his eyebrow at me.
Finally, it registered what was happening. Robert E. Lee and the sign outside, and Gabe here too? He wasn’t just back to visit. He was planning to stay. And he was planning to buy the Willows. For me. For us.
“But what about your job?” I asked, with the tears running down my cheeks now. “What about your life?”
He slid his hands down my body. He gripped my thighs, and I felt his strength through all my pleats and petticoats. “We will figure it out. You want to fly and you will. But I want to have my feet on the ground. I want a home, and I want it to be with you. In this house. Just like you said.”
I let myself fall against him, holding him as tight as I possibly could. “Are we really going to live here?”
“Hell yes, we are.” His deep voice made his chest rumble against my ear. “But I got you one more thing. I just need you to stand up for a second.”
“Nope,” I said, my voice a little muffled because my cheek was mashed against his rock-solid chest. “I’m staying here forever.”
“You’re going to want to stand up for this one,” he said with a smile in his voice.
I squeezed him extra tight before I let him go and slid off him, straightening my dress as I stood.
He came up to sitting on the stairs, but he didn’t stand. Instead, he reached into his pocket, got down on one knee, and looked up into my eyes. He didn’t say anything at first. He just held my stare. Then he popped the ring box open. And I gasped. It was absolutely beautiful. But not nearly as beautiful as him.
“Will you?” he asked as he slid the ring on my finger.
My life had always had lots of love in it. But not until that moment did I have any idea at all what true love felt like. Because of him I did, and always would. I sank down onto my knees in front of him, wrapped my arms around him, and whispered, “I will, I will, I will,” as we lay in the middle of that grand old foyer, in that grand old house, in our grand new life.
51
GABE
Eight months later
The opening sequence was now an ever-changing slide show of our life together—there were clips of us in Savannah, the Caribbean, Iceland, and even clips of her talking to the General, who now had his very own fan group. Lily had engaged her amygdala all the way to the top of the worldwide Bejeweled rankings, but we didn’t travel as much as I had when I was on my own. I’d never been happier in my life. Every time I looked at her, I loved her even more. And no matter what shots made up the sequence, it always ended the same way.
THE POWERS OF SUGGESTION
WITH LILY AND GABE POWERS
Finally, we were back in Scotland. It was March, and the skies were deep gray and drizzling. The water was still and black. It was perfect. But then again, it always was with her by my side.
That morning, we’d done an interview with Mr. MacGregor. I filmed Lily as she interviewed him about what he’d seen and where. We’d had lunch with him and his wife at the pub, as Mr. MacGregor and I sat across from our beloved terrible knitters, the happiest guys on earth.
Now Lily and I were out on the loch, in a kayak just like I’d imagined us that day that I’d been here without her. It was dusk, when almost all the Nessie sightings happened. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were doubly beautiful against the bright yellow of her rain jacket. “We’re out on Loch Ness,” she said to the camera. “Obviously! So far, no Nessie.” She leaned over the side of the kayak and peered down into the water. She tickled it with her fingertips, and small ripples shivered out from her hand. “Nessie? Are you down there?” she said to the water and then turned to the camera. She leaned even closer to the surface of the loch, cupping her ear to the water. She moved her lips off to one side. I figured everybody else would think it was cute. But to me, it was so damned sexy. Like every single thing she did.
She grabbed her oar with both hands and placed it in the water like I’d taught her. She pulled it toward her, making the kayak slip through the water. “Don’t just sit there, Mr. Powers!” she teased. “Help me out.”
I laughed, and it echoed out across the water and back at us again. Her big eyes followed the sound from one side of the valley to the other. “That’s amazing,” she whispered. “Hello!” she called out.
Hello-hello-hello echoed back, in that beautiful voice of hers.
“This is Lily Powers!” she called out. Powers-Powers-Powers said the echo.
Still, it was surreal to me. That she had taken my name. That any of this—my life with her—wasn’t just a dream. I panned out to do a wide shot and then returned to her, finding her looking at me a little impatiently. “Seriously, now. Help me paddle.”
“Right,” I said and clipped the camera in place beside me. I reached down to get my oar from where it was fastened beneath my seat. But as I did, I saw something under me. It was a small box, navy blue with white ribbon. I heard Lily inhale, and I glanced up to see her watching with her fingers pressed to her lips. I picked up the box from the bottom of the kayak. It was featherlight and hardly more than four inches on each side.
/>
“Open it,” she whispered, now shifting her fingers into a steeple shape in front of her.
I pulled the ribbon off and slipped the lid from the top of the box. At first I couldn’t even really process what I was seeing or what it meant. Because inside there were two little baby booties. Knitted out of yellow yarn.
Then it hit me, and I sank to my knees on the boat in front of her as her laughter echoed out and back again.
I took them from the box and placed them on my palm. They were so small, and yet the happiness they brought was so huge. Christ, happiness. More than I ever thought I’d feel. “Are you . . . ,” I asked, on my knees in front of her.
She nodded. “I am,” she whispered, and her hand moved down to her belly.
“Holy shit, Lily,” I said as I put my head in her lap. I wrapped my arms around her, clutching the little booties in my hand. I pressed my ear against her stomach, as if maybe, somehow, I could hear a heartbeat. But instead of a baby’s heartbeat, I felt her stomach contract as she laughed and sniffled. Turning my head, I looked up to see her wiping tears from her cheeks and smiling that beautiful smile.
I held her close and pressed my cheek against her leg. And there I stayed, on my knees in gratitude for her, for the home she’d given me, for the fireworks I saw around her every single day.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my husband for everything always; every night really is a sleepover when you marry your best friend. Thank you to Maria Gomez and the team at Montlake and Amazon Publishing for giving me a chance to spread my wings both creatively and professionally. Thank you to Charlotte Herscher; it’s a dream to work with you, and I feel so honored to have your help. Thank you to Sybil and Sam for providing me with support, common sense, and laughter. Thank you especially to Sarah; I have no idea what I would do without you. And SL, through high and low. Thank you to Candi for helping me get this book off the ground and into the hands of bloggers and readers. Thank you to Melissa for your designer’s eye and your Vitamix. Thank you to my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, for your encouragement and steadiness. BR and CD, thank you for keeping my secrets and for cheering me on through all these many years. Thank you so much to the MBs, the Peaches, and the KOs for your support. An extra big thank-you to my family, my students, and my dogs for filling my life with joy. And thank you, finally, to my readers. It’s all for you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Emily Roembach-Clark/Emily RC Photography
Nicola Rendell, the bestselling author of Shimmy Bang Sparkle, loves writing naughty romantic comedies. After receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. Nicola’s work has been featured in the Huffington Post and the USA Today blog Happy Ever After. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. Her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady, but she’s totally OK with that. For more information and updates, visit www.NicolaRendell.com.
Do You Feel It Too? Page 30