A thud sounded behind us, followed by a little squeak.
I spun in Jacob’s arms. “Oh, no. He fell out of the truck.” I moved to leave Jacob’s embrace—to check on the dog now splayed in the dirt, but Jacob held me back.
His fingers feathered and tightened, then let me go reluctantly.
With a smile, I moved away and ducked by the little dog.
The canine trembled, his tiny muzzle pulling back to reveal pointy teeth in warning.
I cringed.
Jacob wouldn’t tolerate a dog that might bite me—begging or no begging.
I stiffened as Jacob crept forward, expecting him to pull me away and order the dog off his property. Instead, he dropped to his haunches, murmuring soft things, his voice calm and soothing.
And the dog listened.
His teeth no longer bared, and his tail wagged. Slowly, he inched with his belly gliding the ground toward Jacob’s boots.
Jacob didn’t touch him. Just let him sniff.
The dog took the invitation and circled him, sniffing his jeans, his wrists, his knees, everything he could reach.
After he’d sniffed his fill, he stared Jacob dead in the eye, then flopped onto his back, revealing his gaunt belly.
I burst out laughing as Jacob groaned under his breath.
His eyes met mine, rueful and exasperated. “Just like you, huh? Bit of fight to start with, then full-on warfare to make me fall in love with you instantly.”
I giggled. “I did nothing of the sort.”
He scratched the dog’s belly, shaking his head. “You know exactly what you did. I didn’t stand a chance against you.”
“And he doesn’t stand a chance against you. You’re the favourite.” Even though I’d rescued him, he’d chosen his pack, and the leader was Jacob. “He’s madly in love with you already, just so you know.”
Jacob caught my eyes, his tan face and handsome smile stealing my breath. “And you’re madly in love with me too, right?”
“Every day of my life.” I smiled.
“For the rest of forever?”
“For the rest of forever.” I leaned forward and kissed him, still shocked even now at the privilege of being able to touch this man. Kiss him. Make love to him. Sleep beside him when he was at his most vulnerable.
Jacob grabbed me, squishing me close until we tumbled into the dirt together. But he didn’t stop kissing me. He didn’t stop when dust covered us or the dog jumped on us or when Cassie got out the hose and sprayed us with a laugh.
We rolled and hugged and kissed and played, and I’d never been so stupidly happy.
“He can stay, Hope Jacinta Murphy.” Climbing to his feet, he held out a hand to help me up. When I stood, he brushed the worst of the mess off me before yanking me close and whispering into my ear. “That’s the last time I call you Murphy, by the way. After tomorrow, you’re a Wild. Hope Jacinta Wild. For always.”
* * * * *
As I stood at the top of the aisle with our family surrounding us, my dad doing his best not to cry after giving me away, and staring into the eyes of my soul-mate, my heart threatened to burst from my ribcage and frolic in the meadows beyond.
I wasn’t just marrying the boy I’d be born for.
I was inheriting a farm that I’d always belonged to.
I was completing the life I was destined for.
The celebrant gave us lines to bind and promise us, and Jacob and I repeated them.
The little dog we’d called Arlo ran around our legs as we turned to face our family with hands joined and hearts united and souls stitched together for eternity.
The sun hung low and golden in the sky, and Cassie took photo after photo as Jacob and I signed the wedding certificate, then drifted toward the forest where Ren and Della were scattered.
I missed Della so much. I hoped Jacob was right that the dead had a choice to linger or leave, and Della had lingered to see this moment.
I wanted her to know I would forever look after her son. I would care for him, protect him, and be the best wife he could ever ask for.
A gentle breeze swirled in my wedding dress as Jacob gave me a smile blended of joy and sadness, then used his father’s Swiss Army knife to carve another set of initials into a tree that already carried his parents’.
J.W 4 H.W with a rudimentary heart sketched around the two.
Our names beneath Della and Ren’s.
Our love story mingled with theirs.
A true family.
Jacob put his knife away as the breeze kicked harder, tugging at my veil and ruffling Jacob’s hair. He pulled me into him, and we hugged beneath the tree that carried such memories and troths.
“I love you, Hope. For richer and for poorer.”
I clutched him closer. “And I love you, Jacob. In sickness and in health.”
He nudged my chin up, pressing his lips to mine in an endless kiss, and the breeze died down with the softest sigh.
He murmured into my mouth. “I’ll love you during life and well past death.”
“Forever.”
The world stood still.
We were at the epicentre of our happiness.
And as he pulled away, we linked hands, smiled, and walked side by side into our new beginning.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Jacob
* * * * * *
TWO YEARS LATER
CROSSING THE MEADOW that I’d crossed so many times before, I steeled myself for the task ahead.
I hadn’t entered my parents’ house since my mother died and I left Cherry River. I hadn’t visited when I returned. I hadn’t cleaned or sorted out their belongings in the two years that I’d been married to Hope.
But today, I had no choice.
Today, I crossed the meadow to do something that should’ve been done a long time ago: release ghosts from the rooms and air out the lonely house for new occupants.
Hope and I had been happy in my small cabin.
We’d worked hard, turned Cherry River into a fledgling orchard, and cultivated the ground to grant even bigger grass yields.
Hope continued to help Aunt Cassie with the horse rescues, and I’d learned to hide my fear. I had to trust if Hope got hurt…that was okay. I wouldn’t stop her from doing what she loved just because my mother had died dealing with such creatures.
I’d gotten better at accepting.
Arlo, the little dog that was my personal shadow, had helped with that.
He was just so happy, so utterly alive in each moment. No worry about what he would do that night or the next day. No stress over things he couldn’t change.
He was as good on my mental health as my therapist Dr Mont.
Pulling the key from my pocket, I sucked in a deep breath as I opened the door and stepped over the threshold.
Instantly, the familiar smell dragged me back through time to when I was a child and both my parents loved and laughed in this place.
I let memories surround me, I let highlight reels overwhelm me, and then I moved forward with my shoulders squared and heart sad but not bleeding.
Hope didn’t know my plan. I didn’t know if she’d like it or disagree.
But we’d been to the doctors this morning.
Our third check-up on our baby.
I flushed.
Our baby.
I would be a father soon.
And thanks to today, we knew what we were having.
A daughter.
A little girl who would ruin me for the rest of my days just as surely as her mother did.
Striding through the house, I bypassed my parents’ bedroom and entered my old one where Hope had stayed. Her scent blended with mine, and I smiled.
Perhaps this should be the nursery.
Move out the furniture, paint, renovate, and give the old house a new family to shelter.
Plans unravelled in my head, ideas of changing a few walls, and amending the property so it became ours instead of just my parents.
Needing
a paper and pen to sketch my ideas, I followed the corridor to the room my father had built for my mother. A writing room. A small square looking over the willow grotto where her desk could store her manuscripts while her gaze followed her husband on his tractor.
The feel of this room was soft and welcoming, and I sighed as I opened one of her desk drawers, searching for a pen.
I froze.
My hands shook as I pulled out two green boxes that’d once had the power to cut me apart.
The gifts from my father.
Mom had kept them, waiting for a time when she could give the last two presents. A time that never came, just like the boxes she hadn’t opened. The ones I’d buried by her ashes.
My mind shot back to the greenhouse the day before she died when she’d given me the ribbon lace for the girl I’d fallen in love with. I’d shoved that gift into a cupboard, fighting my own lies that Hope meant nothing.
I should’ve given it to her. After all, the gift was to her from my father.
Who were these gifts to? Hope or me?
Two remaining boxes.
One for when I got married.
One for when I had a child.
Our wedding had already happened.
The birth of our child was a few months away.
A gust of air blew through the room. I didn’t know where it originated from as the windows were closed. It wasn’t chilly like the autumn breeze outside but warm and imploring.
I didn’t want to.
I didn’t know if I could handle such things, but I owed the two people who had died to open them.
Ripping into the paper, I cracked open the first box.
Inside rested a small photo frame. Silver and simple, empty and needing one of the many photos Cassie took of Hope and me at our wedding.
A piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
Gritting my teeth, I picked it up and read.
Dear Wild One,
Congratulations on getting hitched.
If you’re anything like me, it would’ve been the best day of your life. Not because family and friends watched you pledge yourself to your chosen one, but because you’ve laughed death in the face. You’ve made a solemn vow that you will never be alone. Ever. You will always find each other now you are wed.
I’m so happy for you to find your other half to share your life with.
I love both of you,
Dad
Clearing my throat from a wash of emotion, I rushed to open the last box before I broke and had to go back to Hope. Before I had to see my wife, hug her close, and remind myself that all this pain was worth it.
To look at her rounding belly and know she created a miracle. To accept that sometimes miracles came to pass and sometimes tragedy came in its place. But through it all, we survived.
The paper ripped loudly on the final box, the lid tight over its contents.
Pulling it open, I tipped a silver bangle into my palm.
A bracelet for a baby.
Inside an inscription glinted: Live Wild. Love Freely. Be Blessed.
I clutched the precious metal in my fist as I read the last message I would ever have from my father.
But it wasn’t addressed to me.
It was addressed to my daughter.
The little person Hope and I were yet to meet.
Dear Baby Wild.
You are so loved.
You were born to parents who will lay down their lives for you.
You were created by love that no amount of pain can shatter.
You have the world at your feet, and I wish you every blessing and happiness.
Love,
Your grandfather.
The strength in my legs buckled.
I’d pushed myself too far, and I tumbled into my mother’s writing chair. Wedging my elbows on the desk, I breathed deep, using tricks the therapist had given me to stay in the present and not focus on all the things I could lose. All the scenarios that could go wrong. All the worries that drove me mad.
Slowly, my heart stopped racing, and I looked up again.
In the distance, amongst wildflowers slowly fading with autumn and trees turning orange, stood Hope. She had one hand on Forrest’s whither while she scratched the nose of a white mare called Snowy. A rescue horse turned heart horse that I trusted to protect my wife impeccably.
I stood to go to her.
To celebrate the news of our daughter and brainstorm names well into the night, only my boots nudged something beneath the desk, dragging my eyes to the darkness.
A box.
Another goddamn box.
This one bigger and heavier than all the rest as I bent to claim it from the floor.
Placing the silver bangle to the side, I hoisted the bulk onto the desk. My hands shook as I smoothed the lid.
Was it my place to open? Was it an invasion of my mother’s privacy?
I waited for a while. Paused for a breeze or a sign that I was permitted to see such things, but the air stayed still, watchful.
This house held so many secrets, but if it were to shelter a new family, prior history would have to be dealt with. Precious belongings would have to be stored in safekeeping, ready to make room for more secrets.
I told myself my curiosity was purely from a renovation point of view even though I knew whatever was in the box would butcher me.
Gritting my teeth, I opened the lid and raked a hand through my hair as I found hundreds upon hundreds of letters, all addressed to my father.
A few held just one lines, others multiple paragraphs, and some with sheets and sheets of news.
My mother had always been a writer. Her journaling was mostly why their love story was fashioned into a book, and instead of stopping a lifelong calling, Mom had turned to writing to Dad when he died.
The paper felt otherworldly as I claimed a small note and held it in the light.
My Dearest Ren,
It’s hot today.
Hot enough for a swim in a stream in some empty forest, just the two of us. I had a dream last night of our many camping trips—of you when you were just a boy looking after an annoying little girl. Remember those days? God, I do.
I wonder if we’ll have that again…when I find you.
I stopped reading, placing the letter face down on the desk.
It felt like an intrusion. It filled me with grief.
Scooping the massive pile of paper from the box, I placed the tower before me. So many notes. So many little snippets of her life she’d wanted to share with the ghost that watched over her. I wanted to hide them somewhere safe, but I reached for another, adding salt to my wounds.
My Ren,
Today is a hard day.
I miss you more than I can bear.
My heart lurched, tasting my mother’s sorrow.
Dear Beloved Ren,
Jacob adopted a new horse today.
They’re both as broken as the other, so one of two things will happen: they’ll end up killing each other or will heal together, but for now, they have a friendship no one else truly understands.
Jacob has called him Forrest.
There’s so much of you in him, Ren.
It’s unbearable sometimes.
Then again, there’s me in there too. His temper and stubbornness, for one.
Anyway, I have to go cook dinner.
I’ll see you in my dreams.
Another page fell from the stack as I pushed the letters neatly to the side. My eyes skimmed it before I could stop myself.
Ren,
Hope is slowly winning, you’ll be glad to know. She’s not afraid of Jacob’s temper. You’d be so proud of the way she pushes him to be happier. I know she loves our son. And I love her. She truly is a Wild, Ren.
She belongs here, and I hope, one day, she officially becomes family.
Turned out, I’d kept her wish and fate’s design.
Hope was family. A true Wild.
With my wedding ring glinting on my finger, I ra
n my touch along the stack of letters.
Declarations of love and loss—a life my mother had to live without her husband by her side.
I had no idea what to do with them. They couldn’t be given away, and they definitely couldn’t be destroyed.
They would have to be protected and guarded—a talisman for our own love story; a reminder to adore each and every day, even if it killed us.
Bracing myself for yet more tragic notes to ghosts, I looked inside the box again.
Tucked at the very bottom was a piece of soft leather tied with tan string.
I pulled it free and undid the fasten, flopping open the leather to reveal yet another piece of paper.
This was different, though. This one wasn’t a love note but a short manuscript. Written in secret, stored in dust, and dedicated to the family she’d left behind.
I looked out the window again, searching for Hope and the horses. She’d guided the creatures to the stable where she’d begun tacking up Snowy for our evening ride.
The world of the living summoned me to join it, but the whispers of ghosts made my eyes fall back to the pages.
Should I read it?
Was it private?
I didn’t have a choice as my attention fell on my wife’s name in the dedication.
To Ren, my husband who lives in my heart.
To Jacob, my son who keeps me whole.
To Cassie, my sister who keeps me brave.
To John, my father who keeps me smiling.
To Hope, my daughter who I hope becomes family.
My hands trembled as I turned over the page, committing myself to this tale. I couldn’t trap away my mother’s words again without honouring them.
The description page was neatly typed.
‘Come Find Me’
A Short Story
by
Della Wild
I swallowed hard as I turned the page and began.
A SHORT STORY might be a single paragraph, a simple page, or a complex novella.
The Son & His Hope Page 54