by Mia Sheridan
She stood. “I have something for you too.” She reached into her clutch again and brought out a folded piece of paper. Then she leaned forward, surprising me by kissing me on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, Audra. I’d say, welcome back, but I never truly extended a genuine welcome the first time, did I?”
“Thank you,” I whispered. And with that, Luella Townsend, my former arch-enemy-grandmother, soon-to-be grandmother again, walked out of my hospital room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
I took a moment to digest some of what we’d talked about, but I knew I’d need longer than I had that moment to ponder everything I’d just discovered. The doctor would be in any minute.
I looked at the paper in my hands and slowly unfolded it. It was a professional engineering sketch of the industrial park that I’d first seen the model of in Dane’s office in California. But there had been an addition made to this version. At the entrance to the park was a large sign, flanked by trees and greenery. The sign read: Theodore John Industrial Park.
Underneath in Luella’s handwriting, it said, Named for my first great-grandchild.
A sob came up my throat and I clutched the piece of paper to my chest, joy and sorrow mixing to form a heavy happiness in my heart. Tears pricked at my eyes. My beautiful boy will be remembered. A gesture I never expected.
The click of the door opening startled me, and when I saw Dane entering my room, I sniffled, letting out a small half laugh, half sob that had him frowning as he walked toward me.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head, handing Dane the paper and grabbing a tissue to wipe my nose.
He stared at the picture for a few minutes, his eyes softening as he brought his bottom lip between his teeth and then gave me a sad smile. “The old lady’s not a hundred percent evil, huh?”
I laughed softly, sniffling again. “Only about fifty percent. I have so much to tell you, but my building, it’s all mine. She doesn’t want it. She never did.”
Dane looked confused. “I was planning on talking to her about that later today. She’s been ducking out before I could get a word in with her.”
“It’s okay. We talked, and it was better that way.”
Dane sat down on the edge of the bed, using his thumb to wipe away the last trace of my tears. “Okay. You’ll fill me in later.”
“Yeah.” I looked at the magazine he’d set down on the table next to my bed when I’d handed him the paper. “What’s that?”
He picked it up, handing it to me. “Oh,” I breathed when I turned it over and saw the cover. The magazine I’d sketched in on that mountain while half dead and starving, waiting to be rescued by help that never came.
I opened it slowly, cautiously, stopping on the first sketch I came to. Dane, leaning against a tree, his face in profile, shoulders hunched as he looked into the darkness of the trees. I ran a finger down the lines of his face, over the shadow of his beard, tears pricking my eyes again. I could smell the pine and the crisp cold of the mountain air. I could feel the gnawing, never-ending hunger in my gut, and I could feel the fire in my heart for the man I’d always, always loved.
I sniffled, flipping the pages until I came upon a sketch of Theo, the way I remembered him, his eyes closed as though he were only sleeping, his tiny face so perfect. “He looked like you,” I said, my eyes moving to Dane’s.
He nodded, his expression serious, filled with gravity. “I know. But I have a feeling he had your brown eyes.”
I tilted my head, my lips tipping up very slightly. “Someday we’ll know. Just not quite yet.”
Dane smiled back. “No, not quite yet.”
I studied the only picture I had of my child, running a finger over his cheek, recalling the satiny feel of his skin.
After a moment, I found the strength to turn the page, finding the picture of the sun setting over the mountain, recalling the vivid grandeur of that beauty in the midst of such unrelenting harshness. “Hmm,” I hummed.
There were other sketches in there too, I knew, pictures of the mountain, the place the plane had come to rest and eventually went over the cliff, and of our tiny shelter from the storm, the place we’d come together to share our warmth and eventually our hearts.
“I don’t know why I grabbed that,” Dane said. “When I raced back to the camp after you’d fallen, my mind was so foggy with sickness and so filled with terror for you, I grabbed the things I thought were important and stuffed them in the duffel bag. I’m glad I knew, even somewhere in my feverish brain, that that was one of them.”
I let out a ragged breath. It was. It was important.
A knock sounded at my door again and we pulled apart as my doctor came in the room. “You two ready to get outta here?”
Dane laughed, standing and shaking Dr. Fletcher’s hand. “You have no idea.”
Dr. Fletcher smiled. “I can only imagine. You’ll want to tell your ride to pick you up around the back, though. There is a horde of reporters waiting in the lobby.”
“Ah. I’ll tell my brother. Thanks.” We still hadn’t talked to the reporters who’d been trying to get more information about our harrowing tale, but we’d decided to talk to them after we were out of the hospital and feeling up to facing a camera or two. Not only that, but we were still coming to terms with all we’d been through, and to try to put the ordeal into words before we’d done that, would be impossible.
“I have your discharge papers here, all signed, and all your numbers look great from your checkup this morning. There was only one thing that was a little bit off with you, Audra.”
“Oh,” I said, glancing at Dane who suddenly looked worried.
“Apparently it was too early to know when you first arrived at the hospital, but you’re pregnant.”
I blinked at the doctor and then just stared. Pregnant? Pregnant? I swallowed, a buzz beginning in my brain. I looked at Dane who looked shocked too, though a small smile seemed to be trembling at the edges of his mouth, as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold it back or set it free.
“That . . . rattrap hotel,” I murmured, trying to piece together how this had happened.
“Or the shelter,” Dane offered, smiling openly now.
The doctor laughed. “Whoa. I’m going to let you two hash out the memories. I just wanted to say congratulations and set you free.” He turned and shook Dane’s hand and then leaned forward, kissing me on the cheek. “You two take care of each other. Call me with any questions that arise.”
I nodded dumbly. “Yes, thank you, Doctor.”
He left the room and Dane and I looked at each other, Dane’s grin increasing. I kept staring at him, the soft beginnings of joy fluttering in my heart, along with a thousand other emotions. “A baby,” I whispered.
Dane sat back down on the bed, taking me in his arms. “Yeah, a baby.”
“Is it going to be okay this time, Dane?” I asked, my greatest fear bubbling to the surface.
He pushed a piece of hair away from my cheek, taking my face in his hands and looking directly into my eyes. “Yeah, it is. It’s going to be okay.” He kissed me softly on my lips. “Let’s go home.”
I nodded, breathing in his scent, love filling me, and a strange sense of peace that didn’t seem to make any sense with the worries bouncing around in my mind. “Yes, let’s go home.”
EPILOGUE
Dane
“One more push, baby. You can do it, Audra. I see our baby’s head, honey,” I choked out as she gripped my hand.
My wife sat up slightly, sweat dripping off her forehead and down her cheeks as she curled forward, gritting her teeth as her face turned red and she screamed into the final push.
The small patch of dark hair grew bigger and bigger and I held my breath as the baby’s head emerged, followed quickly by the shoulders as the doctor pulled him—it was a him—from Audra’s body, placing our son on her stomach, and rubbing his back briskly.
For a second, time stopped as my eyes met Audra’s, a thousand
words, a thousand feelings, a thousand memories, passing between us in a single glance.
This time, though, it wasn’t only my wife’s cry that filled the hospital room where a baby’s wail should have been. No, no, this time the lusty squall of our baby boy burst forth, filling the silence, causing me to draw in a sudden breath of thankful joy. Audra’s face crumbled as she, too, let out a cry filled with both deep relief and happiness, lifting our son and bringing him to her chest where she cried against his head, kissing his temple, her tears falling on his skin. “Hi,” she breathed. “Hi, baby boy. Hi, Noah.”
I bent over both of them, smoothing Audra’s sweat-soaked hair back as I marveled at the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen: my wife holding our newborn infant as he cried angrily, rooting for the breast that wasn’t being immediately offered to him. Audra laughed through her tears, cradling him in her arms as a nurse handed her a blanket, placed a hat on Noah’s head, and listened quickly to his heartbeat. “Good and strong,” the nurse said on a smile, turning away. To prove her right, Noah let out another furious howl and Audra guided his small mouth to her breast. He quieted, happy with his new circumstances, and I laughed, wiping away the tears I hadn’t realized were moving down my cheeks.
“That’s my boy,” I said and Audra nudged me slightly, but continued smiling the awe-filled, love-drunk smile of a new mother.
Noah stared, his dark eyes fixed on her as he nursed. They finally fluttered closed, his mouth going lax as he fell asleep. Audra beamed up at me as I bent over them, whispering words of love and joy, vowing to protect them forever.
Later, I held Noah in my arms as Audra slept, the hospital room dim, the halls quiet outside the door. I swayed in front of the window, my son’s small body swaddled safely in my arms, watching as a few late-fall snowflakes fell from the sky
I thought about everything that had happened to bring us to this very moment, my gaze following the deep purple outline of the mountains on the distant horizon. I closed my eyes, picturing that endless, arctic terrain, swearing that for just a heartbeat, I caught the sharp scent of pine in the air, felt the whip of the wind across my cheek.
Sometimes, still, I think of grief that way—as a vast, icy mountain, seemingly impossible to survive, so frigid the cold permeates your very bones, the depths of your soul. Each step takes a monumental effort, making any real headway seem insurmountable. And yet, if you raise your eyes to the horizon, looking with your heart as well as your eyes, you can see a tiny wisp of smoke rising from a cozy cabin where you will finally, finally find warmth. Hope. And if you have another who will take your hand, drag you when necessary, and travel through that unforgiving landscape, you will emerge through the trees, changed, yes, but together. Stronger. And when you turn your head and look back at the stark, sweeping vista from which you somehow emerged, you will know, deep down to the very core of yourself, that nothing, nothing is impossible when love is greater, more vast, more solid and immovable than the mountain itself.
I cuddled Noah closer, bringing my face to his, breathing in his sweet baby smell—the scent of purity, of mother’s milk, of my wife, still so very much a part of him, though their bodies were now separated. I snuggled him for a moment, rocking gently, and then I told my second son all about his brother. I told him how his mother and I had once gotten lost in a cold, desolate terrain, and found each other in another. I told him how the second time we’d learned to curl into the cold spaces together, sharing our hearts, our warmth, our tears. I told him how that had made all the difference.
And finally, just as the sun began to rise over those jagged, distant peaks, I told him about a blue butterfly, the soft brush of wings against my cheek as I lay dying. The tiny flutter that had brought me from the edge of death, given me one last surge of energy, the very final burst of strength that had brought us out of the clearing and into the view of a man holding an armful of wood.
Acknowledgments
As always, so many people deserve my gratitude for helping me tell this story.
To my editing team, Angela Smith, Marion Archer, and Karen Lawson—thank you for knowing my heart and ensuring that I express myself in the clearest, most concise way without losing my voice or the meaning behind my story. In short, thank you for helping me be the best version of my storytelling self.
I was lucky enough to add another editor to my team this time around and Rose Hilliard, I loved every minute of working with you. Thank you for tweaking, tightening, and just being an all-around joy to work with.
And thank you to Angela Quarles who boosted my confidence even further by going through my manuscript with such a fine-tooth comb. I’m so grateful!
Thank you to my tireless agent, Kimberly Brower, for a million things both big and small.
To you, the reader, thank you for spending your precious time with my characters. It is my deepest wish that you close this book with a happy smile and a full heart, perhaps feeling that you have been changed for the better in even the smallest of ways.
Thank you to Mia’s Mafia for all your love and support. And thank you to Malissa Barrett for naming Thistle and Thatch! The moment I heard it, I knew it was just what Audra herself would have chosen. ;)
To all the book bloggers who make spreading the word about books they love their passion and their job. You are appreciated beyond measure.
To my husband: We traversed through our own cold desolate landscape once upon a time, didn’t we? Thank you for curling into those cold places with me. Thank you for taking my hand and pulling me along when I didn’t believe I could take another step. And thank you for allowing me to do the same for you. Thank you for never giving up, for never turning away, and for always, always wrapping me in the warmth of your love.
About the Author
Mia Sheridan is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. Her passion is weaving true love stories about people destined to be together. Mia lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband. They have four children here on earth and one in heaven. In addition to Dane’s Storm, Leo, Leo’s Chance, Stinger, Archer’s Voice, Becoming Calder, Finding Eden, Kyland, Grayson’s Vow, Midnight Lily, Ramsay, and Preston’s Honor are also part of the Sign of Love collection.
The stand alone romance novels, Most of All You, and More Than Words, published via Grand Central Publishing, are available online and in bookstores.
Mia can be found online at:
MiaSheridan.com
Twitter, @MSheridanAuthor
Instagram, @MiaSheridanAuthor
Facebook.com/MiaSheridanAuthor