Page 153 of Mourner for Hire
As the afternoon progresses to evening and the sun begins togo down, I abandon the dancing and celebrating crowds near the cottage and walk toward the edge of the water to catch the sunset. The glow of the sun illuminates the water and sand in the perfect golden hue. Storm clouds are rolling in from the North, breaking the light beams of the sunset in the most stunning way.
Against the crashing waves and the hum of the crowd in the distance, I can almost certainly hear my mother singing.
You are my sunshine…
A single tear falls down my cheek and lands on my white sweater. The wind whips through my hair, and I pull my arms tightly around me.
“Bye, Mom,” I whisper into the vastness of the ocean.
I feel Dominic wrap his arms around me, and I tilt my head back on his chest, never wanting to let go of this feeling of home.
“It’s supposed to rain tonight,” I say.
He kisses my temple. “It’s okay. I love a rainstorm with you.”
I tuck myself deeper into his arms and the memory. Just one of many memories I’ve gained since being here. I turn in his arms to face him.
“I want to stay.” I smile up at him, watching his expression change in his honey-colored eyes. “Is that okay with you?”
“Well, I couldn’t run you out of my life even when I tried my hardest, so…” His voice trails with a teasing smirk.
I lean against his chest and return my gaze to the sun as it slowly dips behind the waves. “I love it here.”
“Here loves you.” Dominic kisses the side of my head. “I want a life with you, Vada.”
“I want everything with you.” I rest my head against his chest, hearing the thrum-thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek. “I didn’t know love could feel like this.”
“Like what?”
I sigh into his embrace. “Home.”
EPILOGUE
VADA
The seagulls’caw against the crashing waves has become the sweetest lullaby. Three years back in Shellport, and I’ve never felt more at home.
I kept the cottage, and Dominic sold the bar and moved in with me a few months after Annabelle’s celebration. He ended up being accepted to both the University of Washington in Seattle and Good Samaritan in Corvallis, and being the homebody he is, he chose Good Samaritan. He’s been commuting to Corvallis for residency for the last few years, and while it hasn’t been easy, it hasn’t been as hard as I thought it would be.
I keep to my Google Alert schedule, and he keeps to his three twelve-hour shifts every week. I’ve gotten better at making Annabelle’s apple cider donuts, and Dominic still builds birdhouses to clear his mind.
He’s ventured out into other forms of carpentry—a coffee table, another bookshelf because I have trouble parting with my literary trophies. He built a shop on the side of the cottage and even talked about getting permits to build an addition on the cottage.We have the land and eventually will need the space, right?he asked one crisp October night while the bonfire roared on thebeach.
Now, a year after that moment, I find him in his shop, his white T-shirt wet with sweat and dirty with sawdust. He breaks his focus from sanding the edges of a birdhouse to smile at me.
“Hey, baby.” The kiss is simultaneous to his words. I sink into it as I hop up on the shop bench. “What’s up?”
“Remember how we talked about an addition?”
He drops the sandpaper and dusts off his hands, his gaze not breaking from mine.
“Think we could look into it?” I ask, waiting for him to realize what I’m saying.
His curious smile moves to a full-blown grin, and he closes the little distance between us, arms wrapped around me in a hug I can feel all over my body. When we finally part, I smile at him.
“Want to build a cradle?” I ask.
He kisses me in response. “I will build anything and everything for you. A bookshelf. A cradle. An entire life.”
