Page 89 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

It wouldn't work

It couldn't work, surely?

Could it?

CHAPTER 35

Hailey

Life is so funny. One minute you think you've got a handle on it. The next, you realize you didn't have a clue. Not a single clue.

When I arrived here at True Heart Lodge, my only thoughts were to get away from Aurora, gather my shit together, remember my mom and dad, and swim in the same lake I remembered splashing in as a little kid.

Now here I am, with not one but three men—not to mention a little girl—in my new family, and I'm finally building a future for myself. I mean a real future. Not just traveling the world, like I've been doing for the past few years, and certainly not sitting in an office cubicle doing accounting, like I started out doing back when I lived with my Aunt May and Uncle Roger. It's strange how that life now feels as far away as if it happened in a dream—or to someone else. Something I saw in a film.

Did I really spend all those years in Aurora? Even my early memories of time with Mom and Dad out here at True Heart Lodge seem more vivid to me now than those faded, distant years.

Yet it was only a few short years ago that I quit my junior accounting job to travel. And merely a couple of months since Isaid goodbye to Aunt May's friend Tara and headed out here to live in my inheritance—my little mountain cabin.

I had no idea what to expect.

I would never have guessed I'd end up here, tonight, on my veranda with these three strong men and this equally resilient little girl, our bonfire blazing, watching the sun go down.

Stillness surrounds us on this magical, shortest night of the year. The sun fades in the west, orange and pink, the last flames going out, as the birds fly home to roost. Above us, the stars are out—silver dots in the inky blue of the night sky.

"Look—a shooting star!" Grace points upward, and we all catch a glimpse of a meteor flashing bright as it grazes the atmosphere, before burning out and vanishing. Gone forever.

A gentle nighttime breeze wafts around my shoulders, and I shiver in my T-shirt. Ever attentive, Reed is already on the case, handing me my hoodie and stealing a gentle kiss as he does so.

Turns out, our resident ladies' man has become quite the gentleman, I think to myself—but I don't say it out loud. I just smile and thank him.

In truth, all the men have been wonderful since that moment, a few short days ago, when we agreed we would all marry each other. And of course, when better to be wed than tonight, summer solstice. The night of Sundance. The night my parents were joined in holy wedlock for the second time—not in a church, but right here, on the shore of the lake—wedded by the Ute tribe they had first come to study, then befriended, and ultimately loved as family.

We had four rings made, all matching. Nothing fancy—four gold bands, each with four tiny diamonds set into it, one for each soul. The only difference is in the size. My ring is tiny compared to the men's, especially Lennon's, which looks twice the size of mine. The rings sit together in a wooden box, ready for their moment.

For now, though, we eat and drink, we laugh and play. We talk under the stars, and by the light of a crescent moon peeking at us from the south, shining its silvery glow on the lake beside us.

Midnight.

"It's time!" Dean calls out.

We all walk to the very edge of the lake, kick off our shoes, and step in. The water is cool, but not cold, lapping at our ankles and making me sharply aware of the physicality of my body. We hold hands in a circle, moonlight reflecting in the water, and the orange firelight illuminating our faces so we can see each other clearly.

Little Grace is with us, and we had all agreed she should be the one to marry us. She's been practicing the short ceremony we wrote, and now she stands in the center of our circle, holding the western red cedar box that contains our wedding bands.

"Who takes this woman to be their wife?" she calls out, in a clear and steady voice.

"We do!" the three men reply, strong and sure.

"Who takes these men to be her husbands?" she asks next.

"I do!" My response surprises even me with its strength and certainty.

At the far end of the lake, a waterbird cries out and makes a splash as it wings toward the shore.

"And do you all promise to love and care for each other, equally and faithfully, until death shall part you?" For a four-year-old she does amazingly well. I'd thought she could never remember that entire line, but Lennon had said 'wait and see', and he was right.

"We do!" Our four voices blend together into a powerful shout. A breeze stirs the lake's surface, then stills again.

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