by Leanne Davis
Epilogue
~Melissa~
“I can’t believe I’m finally here!” I slowly spin around in a three hundred and sixty degree revolution. I take in the horizon that is so breathtaking I can barely believe it is real. The thin air, my overexertion and astonishment at realizing that I made it are almost too much for me to comprehend. What are the chances I could ever do something like this? Thinking back to five years ago, if anyone suggested I’d want to accomplish this milestone, I would have laughed in their face. I didn’t do things like this.
This being I’m standing at the top of Mount Baker, the third highest summit in the state.
Turns out, I’ve also learned something more about me. Over the last few years, I’ve started to push past my own limits. We practiced on the climbing wall until he graduated CWU. I had no intent of ever expanding my skills beyond that wall and small boulders. We spent lots of time outdoors, camping, hiking and most recently, snow skiing. But instead of the ungroomed mountain faces that Seth prefers, we go to actual ski resorts with chairlifts and groomed slopes. I frequented the bunny hills for the first season and didn’t take to it easily. But eventually, after many falls and countless tutorials from Seth, I learned to parallel ski instead of snow–plowing all the way down the slope. I’m cautious and try not to lose control. Seth often spends his time going down the backsides of the mountains. No sane people (at least, in my opinion) go there, but Seth enjoys the thrill and can never get enough of the adrenaline rush.
I never intend to hike up a mountain peak just to ski down, or risk being caught in an avalanche or a crevasse, which always threaten the descent. No, thank you. That’s all Seth. And he still does it regularly. He spends hours climbing up mountains, such as the one we just did, hauling his skis on his back. Then, at the very top, he points his ski tips downward and off he goes. I shudder just picturing it in my mind. I can’t justify wasting hours of intense, physical exertion for merely twenty minutes’ reward. But Seth lives for it, as he does climbing all times of years and all types of locations and terrains. Seth rarely uses the safest and most sane pathways.
We reached a tentative peace about his high, free solo–climbing. He ascends the mountain peaks, summits, volcanos, and sheer walls of rock and ice without me. He gets to do it his own way and I don’t have to watch him with fear and trepidation. That’s our agreement. He doesn’t tell me what he’s climbing or where it is until after he’s done it. He tells my father, however, so someone always knows. But not me. At first, I was a nervous wreck of anxiety, bursting into tears every time he went off somewhere without me to do it. That fight got old after the first two years. But each time he came back, he was different. Happy. Satisfied. Excited.
I’m not sure when, but I started to grow used to it and eventually accepted it. I won’t go so far as saying I like it, but after trying it out for myself, my only explanation for my acceptance now is that I’ve grown accustomed to it. At first, it was a culture shock. I couldn’t understand why the hell anyone would do such a thing.
I’ve begun to feel the thrill for it, even though I will never solo climb. I have to accept him and how it takes up a huge part of his time. It also contributes to his self–image. It’s how he survived high school and helped with his confidence. And how can I, of all people, ask him not to do something that he loves so much and does so well?
He accepts all the things I have to do to prevent me from relapsing into the messed–up, impulsive wreck I once was. He never complains, not even when it causes inconvenience as some of my actions do. Not a critical word does he say. Never. He quietly accepts me, helps me, and guides me. He never ridicules me either, not even when I inevitably forget my appointments or arrive late, or lose interest in something. As long as I continue to try my best and keep working on us and my relationship with my family, he completely accepts me.
I’m not sure how many people could be as accepting as Seth is. But then he tells me he thinks I’m tolerant of his quirks and oddities. Maybe that’s the key to a real relationship: being able to love someone inspite of all the faults, irritations, and annoyances we all have.
I have to reciprocate and I do by accepting his hobby and recognizing what a huge significance it holds for him.
Seth glances at me and grins. His dark sunglasses shield his eyes from the blinding brightness of the snow as it glistens under the sun. “You doubt yourself on everything. Now maybe you won’t. If you can do this, Melissa Hendricks; you can do anything.”
He steps closer to me, and I hear the snow crunching under his boots. It’s freaking summertime and we are standing on snow at the top of Mount Baker in the middle of July. I have climbed to the summit of a volcano. It takes nearly four years for me to get here, starting from the first time Seth said I didn’t have the physical, mental or emotional discipline for it. I often tease him about that incorrect statement from so long ago. It seems like eons ago in our relationship now.
It is an easy climb for Seth. We take the easiest route after waiting for perfect weather. We tested it yesterday to get me acclimatized to the altitude. I don’t have much altitude sickness. When I’m with Seth, he makes whatever we’re doing about me. His uncanny, phenomenal balance, absence of fear, and love for climbing really aren’t anything like the normal standard. Our adventures together are based on my ability, comfort, and tolerance level. However, over the years, he manages to push me farther than I believe I can go. Hence how I ended up here.
Seth doesn’t climb with anyone most of the time, and wears nothing but decent climbing shoes. Not even a helmet. Just a light pack with minimal gear and off he goes. I wear a helmet, and layers of clothes, and include every single thing I could possibly ever need. I’ve researched the subject and asked other climbers after realizing Seth really isn’t the best source for my kind of climbing.
Except for that, I trust him with my life. He leans towards me and touches my face, cupping my cheeks before kissing me. I close my eyes, and it always feels like the first time still when his lips barely graze mine. Then he releases me and turns his head so we’re cheek to cheek. “Say cheesy.”
I grin and say, “Cheesy” as he takes a selfie of us with his phone, on top of a mountain together. The blue sky sharply defines our smiling faces, which we scrunch together. That picture will become my favorite.
I lean into him, kissing his cheek again. “Without you, I’d never attempt anything like this. I’d have remained the old Melissa, who I wasn’t very proud of. The one who hung with people like Anand. I would never have learned tenacity and care and following the rules. You sharpened my strength of mind, my body, and my character when you taught me to do this. And it helps me function in all the other aspects of my life. Thank you, Seth.” My tone grows more serious.
He cringes, closing his eyes. “I said those things to you, didn’t I? That you couldn’t climb because you didn’t have the necessary qualities.”
I grin, touching my fingers to his lips. “Yes. But you weren’t being mean. Just honest.”
“I was too being mean.” He grabs my hand in his and holds it, squeezing my fingers and kissing the backs of my knuckles. “You know what? You taught me the necessary things I need for living well.”
I snort. “You’re a research scientist and I’m a dog trainer. Doesn’t sound like I could teach you anything.” Using my mom’s connections with all the local dog owners, I manage to get a clientele after my dad builds a whole wall of kennels for my use. I now have foster dogs, rescue dogs, and to make money, dogs that I board. I run both adult dog and puppy obedience classes. I spend my spare time reading and learning as much as I can. I do not have any formal training or certification yet, but I do belong to all the professional training clubs and associations currently in existence. People find me through word of mouth, and my mother and Noah, of course. I’m currently looking to hire an assistant because business is so good.
It makes me crazy happy to be in this position and to realize that I accomplished it.
And then, there’s the dogs. I get to keep all my dogs. So many now, more than I ever dreamed. Each day, I wake up excited to go out and start working with them. I don’t mind caring for them or just frolicking and enjoying their company. It isn’t even work to me. And my clients are grateful for my attention and love for their beloved pets while they’re on vacation. Others appreciate that I also teach the owners how to control their dogs. Surprisingly, I’m good at it too.
I have the perfect set–up and I don’t want to leave or change it. Even if we ever decide to move, I’ll always be close to my family because this is my sense of safety… and also my business. As my business card says, Melissa’s Dog Ranch: providing boarding, daycare and all training needs. Who would have ever dreamed I’d have a business card and a legitimate business to run? My parents have already given me permission to conduct my business at their home for as long as I want. Seth is earning a PhD, just as he always planned. I’m happy and proud that I don’t divert him from his plans, something I never want to do. It’s crazy hard. I can’t even imagine… well, the new, ordinary me can’t imagine doing it. It’s another reason I love him.
He leans towards me again, his mouth touching mine, only to lean back. His breath is still warm on my lips as his gaze locks onto mine. He grabs the lapels of my coat. “You know, you’re the sole purpose of my entire life now, don’t you?”
It’s very hard to see myself as that for him. This man, whom I respect, admire, and adore, shines more than the moon and stars in his brilliance and level–headed security. I can’t even picture a single day now without depending on his stability to keep me steady.
Stranger still, he thinks he’s lucky to have me. I stimulate his feelings and keep him from becoming too clinical and brainy. He’s not living or totally engaging life without me. I don’t know if it’s true; but that’s what he claims.
“Missy, without you…” His voice trails off. His head dips down and then comes back up as a soft smile curves his lips. “Without you, I would be a full–time scientist with no actual life. I love you, Missy. And since I graduate in one more quarter, I think we should get married then.”
How he phrases it. It’s so… so Seth. No romantic fluff with bells or whistles or big emotions. No long speeches, just straight and to the point. Always clear–cut. Exactly how he feels and what he wants from me.
Except, we’re on top of a volcano. It doesn’t get much more dramatic than that.
Sure, he’s the calmest, easiest–going fiancé there ever was.
My ears feel fuzzy. Or else the altitude sickness is making me dizzy, because all of a sudden, my head is spinning. I don’t really hear him, no. Not correctly. But now he’s grinning down at me and slipping a ring—where did that come from?—onto my left finger.
I stare at the gold band and love Seth, who doesn’t apologize or promise to buy me a bigger one. He’s confident that whatever he gives me is what I want. And he’s right. I’m well aware of how much money we have. We share whatever I make. I provide our income for now. His parents pay for all his schooling and he works at the school but doesn’t earn much. Not yet. We manage to live off the money my business, labor, and knowledge brings in. Who’d have ever thought that would happen? It makes me stand up higher with visible pride.
He knows I can’t wear big, fancy rings because of my work with the dogs. I would have to take it off or let it constantly be in the way. I think I love most how he knows me so well.
I lift my gaze to his. He still holds my hand gently in his. His smile is so warm and he isn’t wavering or worried anymore. He knows I’ll say yes. He’s completely confident that I love everything about him, and I love that he knows me so well. And trusts me unconditionally. I want nothing more than to marry him next year. We’ve talked about it a lot. But we don’t jump right in and do the things that we talk about. We think about them first, and let our ideas simmer; and God help him, Seth can let his ideas simmer for months.
I also love how he knows my brain is scattered in six different directions right now because I’m so shocked and excited and overwhelmed that I can’t even say yes or even nod. He patiently waits me out until I focus back into reality and retrace my thoughts and find words to describe how I feel.
I can only swallow and nod as I whisper, “Yes. I’ll be Mrs. Dr. Melissa Gifford.”
He cracks up at my mangled response. “I don’t think it works that way. But heck, sure, I’ll be Mr. Dr. Melissa Gifford. Whatever name you want to call us is fine, I just want you.”
I blush and laugh because I meant to say Mrs. Dr. Seth Gifford without realizing I used my own name, not his. He doesn’t mind my scattered thoughts or mangled sentences, he embraces them, and laughs with me, but never cruelly at me.
The best thing is, he doesn’t think he’s more successful than I am. Not once does he lord his natural aptitude for academics over mine. He just loves me. And I love him. All the labels and –isms and school and ADHD, as well as everyone else’s opinions, are unimportant to us. It’s Melissa and Seth, and often, not just then, we are our own mountain up away from the world and feeling like we rule the horizon and the dreams of our lives, together.
###
Dear Reader,
I would be so grateful if you took a few moments to leave a review of Melissa. It helps expand an author’s audience, and I really do appreciate the effort.
Read on for Chapter One of Emily.
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Sincerely,
Leanne Davis
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~Emily~
I have things I want to do in the future that don’t begin and end in Ellensburg, Washington where I was born, raised, and doomed to live out the rest of my life. My whole existence is already set and planned, right up until the exact moment when I’m to walk down the aisle. But I run. I flee and hide in a car, which is how I first meet Ramiro Vasquez. Now he’s the only one I’m willing to trust and be honest with.
Having just graduated from college with a journalism major, I know how to tell other people’s stories, but the one I want to tell most of all is my mother’s. With nothing to go on and even less information, the more I inquire about it, the less she’s willing to share. My parents would lock me in my room if they suspected what I really want to do. Which is why I’ve never done it. And also why I almost abandoned my dreams by marrying the wrong man.
Perhaps now, my family’s wishes will no longer stop me. I am beginning to understand some of Ramiro’s secrets, which bind his family to mine. But the greatest, harshest lesson of my life might still be ahead of me when I realize that sometimes, the past is never really dead. Now and then, the past can manage to destroy you and the ones you love the most. No matter how much you try to stop or avoid it, and don’t mean to hurt anyone, sometimes, nothing can undo the damage after it’s already been unwittingly unleashed
Emily (Daughters, Book 4)
Chapter One
~Emily~
I stare out at the huge crowd and see
every person I’ve ever known, or met, or been involved with. All of my family members, ranging from my sisters and aunt and uncle to my adopted cousin’s brother and wife and their kids. Everyone.
And of course, I see Harrison. Harrison is standing there at the front, waiting for me. He’s beaming. His blond head and gleaming smile could be a poster for the all–American man. And he stands there waiting for me… his betrothed and soon–to–be wife.
But I don’t step forward. No, I step back. Once… then again. I duck behind a huge urn filled with flowers. Expensive flowers that my parents bought. Thousands of dollars have been spent on this day, and now I’m hiding and slinking towards the side door that says Exit. I tug on the neckline of my dress. It’s strapless with heart shapes over my breasts, which, in all of their B–cup glory, don’t manage to hold it up very well. I slip the veil off and squeeze through the door.
My heart bursts. Then my lungs burst. My stomach sinks as I start to run. I’m wearing low heels as I cling to the brick side of the church, and walk to the end of it, peeking around. It’s the back side of the church and I see no one associated with my wedding here. I quickly duck behind a car, and furtively proceed as if I’m on some kind of spy–op. My heart feels ready to explode. I don’t know why I’m sneaking around. If I’m caught, no one will do anything to me. Or arrest me. Or hurt me. Or even insist that I marry Harrison. I’d, no doubt, marry him. If I’m caught right now, I fear I’ll probably marry him as planned because I won’t know what else to do. I can’t do that. Not to him. Especially not to my family and my dad, who stands so stoically proud and regal next to Harrison. He’s one of the groomsmen. Untraditional, yes, but I cherish having my favorite man in the world, my dad, next to my husband–to–be. Now, I’m merely glad that he’s at the altar and not lurking around with his eagle eyes. He has a strange sense of knowing exactly where I am at all times.