by Frankie Love
“It’s pretty simple really,” I tell her, looking deep into her eyes. My knees practically frozen, but I don’t give a damn. Right now, this woman in front of me is the only thing I care about.
“Oh yeah?” she asks in a whisper.
“Yeah, truth is, I love you, Greta.”
“Stop,” she says, eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t deserve love like this, twice in my life.”
“Oh yes you do. And you can’t run from it. It isn’t just a dream, or a story someone else wrote--it’s real and it’s true and it’s ours.” I press my forehead to hers, holding her close, wanting to hold her like this until the end of time.
“I love you too, Ansel. So much it makes my chest hurt. The idea of not having you, that’s what scares me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, hell, if you try to get rid of me I’ll pour buckets of breadcrumbs down your driveway. I’m here to stay.”
“Linesworth is not Seattle. And I’m a mom and the kids and ... Ansel--, you want all that?”
“The life we choose is the only one that matters,” I quote for her.
She wraps her arms around me, sinking against my body. “That will never get old. You reciting lines from your book.”
“I think I have a new story idea,” I tell her.
“Really?”
I nod, reaching into my pocket. “Yeah. It’s a book about a man who meets the love of his life.”
Greta raises an eyebrow. “Not terribly original, you know.”
I smile softly, pulling out the ring. “This story has a twist.”
“And what’s that?” she asks, covering her mouth as she see the diamond I’m holding out to her.
“In the end, when he kneels down, asking her to marry him, he doesn’t know if she’ll say yes.”
“Why does he doubt her?” she whispers.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind Greta’s ear. “Because she’s been through a hell of a lot. And going all in a second time might be too scary.”
Greta’s eyes twinkle. The same way they did the night I met her at the wine bar. “But Ansel,” she says. “I think you’re underestimating the heroine.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nods, her face a rosy glow. “Mhhmm. Because this character is thoughtful, reliable and resourceful.”
I frown playfully. “Sounds like Sarah.”
Greta shakes her head. “Nope. Because this woman is also really good in bed. Sarah was kinda uptight.”
I grin. “Oh, so this novel will be a little hotter, you think?”
“Much hotter.”
“In that case,” I say. “Don’t make me wait another minute. Marry me, Greta.”
She beams, her answer obvious. “Yes. Please. Let’s start our life together.”
I slide the ring on her finger and she laughs in awe at the sparkling diamond. “You know there’s a lot about me you still don’t know, right?”
“I know, hell, you’ve never even been to my place in Seattle. I’m a total neat freak.”
“Good, because I’m a total mess.”
“And I work at home, which will be totally annoying sometimes.”
She grins. “But that means you’ll be able to help with the kids.”
“Speaking of kids ... should we go find your family?”
“Our family?”
I nod. “Our family.”
“Did we seriously just get engaged?” she asks, as I pull her up to standing, wrapping my arms around her.
“We did, Greta, we did.” I kiss her, and I swear I’ll never let her go.
This snow-covered mountain that broke her heart once is now the backdrop to our own fairytale.
Epilogue
Greta
One Year Later
Christmas Eve
“It’s perfect, Mommy,” Milo squeals in delight as he adds the angel to the top of the Christmas tree. Ansel holds him up to the top, and below, Lucy beams. Both of my children’s faces are written in joy, and colorful lights make the room sparkle.
It is certainly the happiest time of year.
“Now we’ve got to put cookies out for Santa,” Lucy directs, taking Milo’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. Calling to me over her shoulder she asks, “Mom do you think Santa would want milk or eggnog?”
I look over at my husband, Ansel, and smile. “Eggnog,” I answer, knowing Ansel will add a little whiskey to it once the kids have gone to bed. “And you can each pick a cookie to have before bed.”
They shout their thanks with glee and I turn up the Christmas music. The living room is filled with Bing Crosby crooning about a White Christmas. I look around our home, I feel so at peace. Ansel’s laptop is on his desk in the corner, closed for the week--we’re both taking time off actually--and the tree is already stacked high with presents for extended family.
“Thank you,” I tell him, as he pulls me against his chest. “For making this Christmas so special.”
“I’m glad we have this night as a family,” he says. “Because I know that tomorrow, with Maggie and Charlie here with their little guy Andrew, and Clive and Hazel here with Luke Jr, the day will be busy.”
“I know,” I sigh contentedly as Ansel pulls me to the couch. I hear the kids in the kitchen giggling over their Christmas treats. “But it’s easier for us to host, so they don’t have to hassle with company when they’re busy with their newborns.”
“Will that be us next year?” Ansel asks, lacing my fingers with his, resting them on the slight bump of my belly.
“Nah.” I look up at him, his handsome face still taking my breath away. “I’ve been through this before, I won’t be a basket case like Mags or overly intense like Hazel.”
“What will you be?”
“Grateful, mostly.”
Ansel leans down and kisses me tenderly. My chest tightens--sometimes it’s overwhelming to have so very much.
“Ewww,” Milo groans throwing himself at us on the couch. “No kissing, it’s present time!”
Ansel tickles him, pulling him into his lap as I scoot over and make room for Lucy.
“No, Milo,” Lucy says. “Not until tomorrow. We just set out cookies and milk. Now it’s time for bed.”
I raise my eyes, smirking. “Wow, a little girl declining presents! I’ve never heard such thing, have you honey?” I ask, looking over at Ansel.
“Never. And such a shame, since we put a gift for each of you under the tree.”
“But that’s Santa’s job,” Milo says, scrunching up his face.
“Well, we’re Santa’s helpers, tonight.”
“Did you really get us an early gift?” Lucy asks, her eyes so bright I’m nearly blinded by her beauty.
“We did,” Ansel says, pulling himself off the couch and kneeling under the tree. “Looks like one for Lucy,” he says, handing it to her.
She takes it from him, then wraps an arm around his neck and kisses the side of his head. “Thanks Daddy.”
Her words cause a lump to form in my throat. It is the most bittersweet thing, hearing her say that. When Ansel hands Milo a wrapped package, I think the gift-giving is done, but then, he hands me a box too.
“For me?” I frown--not having an early gift planned for him.
He nods. “The kids first though.”
Lucy tears hers open and finds a gorgeous hardback copy of Hans Christian Anderson Fairy Tales. And when Milo opens his, he finds an illustrated edition of Brother’s Grimm. Their tiny hands flip through the pages, enamored by the books Ansel and I chose with care.
Lucy closes her book, running her fingertips over the title. “You two are cheesy, you know that?” she says, grinning.
“We know,” I say, laughing, and loving my daughter’s ability to pick up on our family’s inside jokes.
“Now your turn, Mommy,” Milo says.
I look at the box in my lap--it’s pretty heavy and I guess Ansel found a book for me too. Unwrapping the corners of the wrapping paper, I pull off a lid.
Inside is a stack of papers, probably three hundred pages thick.
“What’s this?” I ask, my eyes already filling with tears. Because I know.
“It’s for you,” Ansel says. When I dare look up at him, I blink to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. “It’s the sequel to Sarah’s story. The first draft.”
Reading the title, I say, “Her Strong Heart.”
The dedication on the first page is everything:
For Greta
This life we’ve made is its own kind of fairy tale.
Broken and beautiful and ours.
NEW EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Six Years later on Sugar Mountain
Sugar Mountain Elementary School
CLIVE
After she gets out of the Subaru, Hazel helps adjust the baby sling around my shoulder. Three-month-old baby Jessalyn is cozy against my chest, sound asleep.
“I can’t wait to see my cousins!” Luke exclaims. As he has grown he looks so much like his namesake, and while they may not be related by blood, there is brightness in my boy’s eyes that remind of my best friend that we lost so long ago.
Luke’s excitement over his very first day of school is palpable. He’s been counting down the hours and, finally, it is here.
“I know, sweetie, we’ll get there in just a sec,” Hazel says, handing our five-year-old son his lunchbox from the back seat before closing the car doors. “Okay, I think we have everything.”
“Phone?” I ask as my wife throws her hands in the air. I chuckle, knowing she always forgets things like this. And who would blame her? Having a newborn is no easy job.
“Oh my gosh, can you imagine me not remembering to take photos of this?” She pulls open the front door and reaches for her phone. I lean over, never able to resist taking in the view of my gorgeous, curvy wife. “I’d be mom of the year.”
Luke beams up at his mom. “You are the mom of the year,” he says, taking her hand in his. “You’re the best mom of the century.”
It’s obvious that Hazel’s heart softens over her boy’s sentiments. Her eyes mist up and I can practically read her thoughts. How in the world is Luke already five? Going to school, learning to read … damn, time goes so fast.
It seem like only yesterday Hazel was setting up her rickety candy cart on the Main Street of Linesworth, desperate for her life to start making sense.
And then we met and both our worlds changed.
We found love, my wife melted my hard candy shell.
And six years later, it’s as strong as ever.
“Don’t start crying yet, Sugar Mama,” I tease as we walk toward the school building.
Truth is, I feel a little sentimental myself. The fact my little guy is leaving the nest has me blinking back tears of my own. I hide my eyes by kissing the top of Jessalyn’s head, inhaling her perfect baby scent, grateful that we had a second child that would be home now that Luke was going to be in school all day.
The large red brick building is warm and inviting, a big banner welcoming students back, and an American flag waving in the early September sky. When Luke sees Milo and Lucy under the flagpole he lets go of Hazel’s hands and runs toward his older cousins.
Just then Andrew, Maggie and Charlie’s son, dashes out to meet Luke and they run together.
“Hey, Clive, Hazel,” Charlie says, pushing a stroller as his son runs off ahead. “You guys holding up okay?”
Charlie squeezes my shoulder, giving me a hard time—everyone knows that I’ve become a softie ever since Hazel came into my life.
Hazel leans down and says hi to our niece. “You have a few years to wait before you can join your cousins, huh?”
“Mama says I go school.”
Hazel lifts her eyes as Maggie joins them.
“Anna says she’s going to school,” Maggie says. She holds a coffee carrier and hands Hazel her double latte, extra vanilla. “Thank you, by the way.” Hazel sighs, holding the paper cup with both hands. “It smells so good.”
“New coffee shop in town,” Maggie says. “It looks super cute. It’s called Coffee Cake.”
“Sounds like competition,” I say with a frown. Two years ago, the girls, Maggie, Hazel and Greta, opened a new business, the Three Sisters’ Bakery and Sweet Dream Candy Shoppe. A lot of words for the name of a bakery slash confectioner’s, but the girls didn’t care. All that mattered to them was that they were running the business together. Friends forever, family first. That was their motto.
“No, it’s got a coffee house vibe. Totally different.” Maggie looks happier than ever. Charlie always seems to give her a reason to smile. I may have given those two a hard ass time when they first hooked up, but now I see I was a fool to ever think of them apart. Those two were made for one another.
“Oh, and yes. School!” Maggie grins back at Hazel, seeming to remember her earlier question. She wears the kinda grin that only moms-who-are-going-stir-crazy-with-three-year-olds can make at the mere mention of mommy-time. I remember, years ago, when I was living with my older sister Maggie after her first husband died, how I’d help her with the kids, and how much she needed adult time. “I signed Anna up for preschool. Two half-days a week.”
Maggie and Charlie lock eyes and Hazel looks away. I laugh. “Guess we won’t be knocking on your door either of those mornings.”
Maggie throws back her head and cracks up, wrapping her arm around Charlie’s back and kissing him on the cheek. “It’s been sooo long since we were kid-free.”
“Speaking of kid-free, these two punks are the ones we should be giving a hard time,” Charlie says as Greta and Ansel join us.
“Where’s Jackson?” Maggie asks our sister.
“Oh, he ran off ahead. We had to go to the office and turn in some paperwork for Lucy for middle school. Can’t believe this is her last year here. I’m getting a little weepy.” Greta blots her eyes. “And then with Jacks starting school, my house will be empty, and …” She buries her face in Ansel’s chest.
“She’s been a little emotional this morning,” he tells us.
“That’s expected. Your three kiddos are all in school. It’s a big adjustment,” Hazel says.
“That isn’t the only adjustment,” Ansel says with a grin.
“What’s that mean?” Maggie asks, always wanting to know what’s up. “Greta,” she says, tugging on our sister’s arm. “What does that mean?”
“It means, we won’t have an empty house after all,” she says with a smile. “I’m pregnant!”
“Oh my word!” Hazel squeals. Then Jessalyn begins to squawk and she grimaces, patting the sling I’m wearing. “Oops. Didn’t mean to wake the baby. But Greta!” she whispers-yells. “This is everything.”
“I know,” Greta sighs as our group of six, plus the stroller plus the baby in the sling, walk toward the flagpole. “It’s kinda perfect, actually. Ansel’s last book did so well, he is taking a year off and going to build an addition to the house. So there will be plenty of room.”
“You need an addition for one more baby?” Clive asks. “There’s an extra room in the attic, right?”
“Yeah. Except...” Greta stops walking. “We’re having more than one baby.”
“TWINS!?” Maggie’s eyes go wide, and she clutches Greta’s arm, stopping her in her tracks.
Greta laughs, telling her sister to stop being so dramatic as other families are entering the school yard. “You are insane.”
“No, baby,” Ansel says. “We are the insane ones.”
“True,” Greta agrees. “Because we are actually having triplets.”
I look at Hazel and see happiness pour from her. My wife longed for a real family for so long, and I know being here, in moments like this, are what she always hoped for. I take her hand in mine, kissing the back of it, our eyes meet and my love for her grows. We have so damn much to be thankful for.
After we all ingest the exciting news, and hugs and congratulations are offered, our families walk to the flagpole.
; All our boys, Luke, Andrew, and Jackson, pose for photos with their older cousins, Milo and Lucy, who have been through the drill enough times to know that smiling is required. As is letting each of their aunties take as many photos as their Instagram feeds can handle (Spoiler Alert: A Lot.).
When the kindergarteners are dropped off at their classroom, there isn’t a dry eye in the hallway. Even us bearded mountain men are wiping our eyes as our little guys head off to make memories.
“We need to celebrate,” Maggie says. “Not only that we got our boys off to school, but that we are going to have three more babies in the family by the end of the school year.”
“Agreed. Where should we go?”
We all smile, knowing there is only one place in town to get the best treats. A shop that sells candy, cakes, and buns—fresh every day.
We head to Three Sisters to celebrate. I’m already imaging the warm-from-the-oven treats that will be waiting for me.
But that isn’t the only thing on my mind. I’m also imagining getting home, putting Jessalyn down for a nap, and ravishing my wife before I head to work later today.
Hazel and I are behind the others, and I pull her to me for a quick kiss. Her lips are so damn sweet, and I breathe her in, loving everything about her.
“What has you in such a good mood?” Hazel asks, our fingers laced together as we continue walking. “Did you hear about the triplets and suddenly get baby fever?”
I laugh. “No. I think Jessa is plenty for now.” I look down at my baby girl, snug against my chest. How the hell did a man like me end up with so damn much?
“Then what is it, Clive?”
“I was thinking about you and me … after we get breakfast.”
“Oh?” She turns her head and our eyes meet. “And what were you thinking, exactly?” She licks her lips, though, and I know the exact same thing is on her pretty little mind.
“Not sure I can talk about it in a public place, wife,” I say, patting her ass suggestively, not caring if anyone is behind us sees. Truth is, I want the whole damn world to know that Hazel is mine, and that I am hers. Now and for always.