Page 78 of The Sculptor

But maybe it was the same reason it was just as magical as it was all those years ago.

Because we are together, sharing this moment.

Sharing this victory of overcoming all odds.

We found our way home and back into each other’s arms.

It didn’t matter that years have passed, and we were no closer to finding our son than we were yesterday.

All that matters is this moment—this small victory of being together on Christmas as a family—whole or not.

“I got it,” I finally say when the angel is secure and not at risk of plunging to the hardwood floor.

Holding my legs, Duke takes a few steps back. He’s stopped humming, the house falling silent as we simply take it all in.

This cabin.

This tree.

This love between us.

“It’s everything I’ve dreamed of,” I finally say, breaking the silence. “A small victory with you.”

Duke makes a noise in his throat as he lowers to the sofa so I can get down and face him.

“A small victory,” he agrees as he trails his finger along my cheek, “that will be one of many.”

And then he kisses me. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

I can’t sleep—not even snuggled in Duke’s arms.

Years ago, the reason was a wiggly baby growing in my stomach, but tonight, that baby’s somersaults aren’t the cause of my insomnia.

But wondering about him is.

Pulling out my sketchpad, I curl up on the sofa, turning on nothing but a small lamp on the table. Duke was out in a matter of seconds, which is great. He needed rest. He might act like he has everything handled, and knowing him, he probably has most of it covered, but there’s always that small part of him that will obsess and worry that he’s done everything he could to ensure our plans go off without a hitch.

But this time, we can’t prepare.

We have failed.

And failure teaches us to fear.

No matter how prepared we are, we can still fail.

Kelly, from the network, could come up with nothing.

Langston could burn any evidence of paperwork and die with the location of Jude. After all, what he’s done is a crime. We know it. He knows it, and so do our parents. When that many powerful men are threatened, they will band together and fight back.

I doubt that any of the three will grow a conscience and say they’re sorry. That’s why it was so important that I found the documents before Langston realized what I was up to.

But that ship has sailed.

Duke and I are in this together—us against the world.

But we both know, even if by some miracle we do find out where Jude is, there is no guarantee that he’ll want to see us or that he’s even alive. Tragedies happen every day—I know all too well that I’m not immune to hardship. But just this once, I pray that’s not the case and that all this effort, all this time we’ve sacrificed is enough to at least see our son—to see what we created together.

Does he look like Duke, or did he inherit my red hair?

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