Page 2 of Give Me Strength

Her eyes meet mine, full of so many emotions I can’t even begin to untangle them. “Yeah. I’m going to ask Hannah to marry me.”

My own answering smile spreads. “Congratulations.”

“She hasn’t said yes yet,” Rachel says as relief creeps over her face. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? If anything, I’m surprised you didn’t take the leap sooner. It has been six years, after all.”

She sets down the slippers in her suitcase. “Hannah wanted to wait because Lynn was so young. She’s thirteen now, old enough to understand. Everett, on the other hand…”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’ve only met the man a few times, but his reputation precedes him. Like me, he unofficially works for the CIA, but I have no idea in what capacity. Like me, he prioritizes his career over his marriage.

The difference between us is I’m not a father, but he is.

To each their own, I suppose.

Rachel picks up a photo frame from the nightstand and pauses. It’s a picture of us on the day in front of the courtyard, flashing our wedding bands while holding up our bus tickets and grinning like fools. We were so young then, blissfully unaware of what the future held for us, yet so optimistic about it.

This picture, taken about a month after we arrived in Chicago, serves as a stark reminder of what we left behind in North Dakota, this path we were forging for our future, and to always look ahead.

Never behind. Always ahead.

She runs her fingers over the glass before setting it aside, a small, sad smile playing on her lips.

“I guess I won’t be needing this anymore,” she says softly, her voice calm and even yet tinged with a melancholy that mirrors my own.

I take a deep breath as I step into the room and close the distance between us. “You can keep it if you want. It’s a good memory.”

She looks at me, her eyes searching mine for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I think it belongs here. With you.” She sets the frame back down on the dresser and resumes packing.

“As do you,” I offer, trying yet failing to keep my voice steady.

“Why?” she asks, not looking at me. “You choose this house.”

“It had potential,” I counter, leaning against the dresser. “But, let’s face it. It was you who breathed new life into this home. You lived in a construction zone for years, overseeing the renovations from top to bottom. It is more to your liking, so it’s more than fair that you keep it.”

She stops packing, shoulders haunched as her fingers dig into the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the comforter.

“It is the right thing to do, Rachel,” I say softly, my voice trembling slightly. “I’ll sort out my living arrangements upon my return.” Whenever that will be.

She stands and walks over to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, we just stand there, staring at each other. Then she reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. A smile plays at the corner of her lips, tinged with a sadness that cuts through me like a knife.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice breaking slightly. “For everything.”

“Thank you,” I choke out, my voice thick with emotion as my own tears threaten to spill over. “For all the memories.”

She laughs at that, but there’s no joy in it. “You say that like we won’t have any more of those.”

I pull her into my arms. “We will,” I whisper into her hair. “But without compromising or hiding who we really are. You, more than me. You know I have always wanted the best for you.”

“I know,” she agrees, her voice barely audible. “And I want the same for you too.”

I nod, unable to find the right words. The silence between us is thick as we hold each other tightly, neither of us wanting to be the first to let go.

It’s the end of a chapter, but it feels like the end of the world.

PART 1

Part I - Act 1 DONE

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