Page 127 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
My heart jumped. “Caden, we’re already married.”
He laughed. “Not that kind of box. Though I like that your mind went there.” He kissed me first, then stepped back and opened the box. I leaned forward and saw the most delicate earrings I’d ever seen—tiny forget-me-nots crafted from black onyx petals with opal centers that caught the light like captured fire.
“Forget-me-nots?” I whispered, taking one from the box to examine it closer.
“For remembrance. And onyx for our seventh anniversary, opal for October.” He took the earring from my hand and gently brushed my hair aside. “But mostly because I never want you to forget that you are seen. You are remembered. You are loved.”
I put them in my ears, feeling the slight weight of them, as he explained, “I found a local artist who makes jewelry. I asked if she could make something custom with the shape and stones I showed her. It took her a little while, but I think she knocked it out of the park.”
I smiled at the thought behind the time he spent on even this gift.
“How do they look?” I asked.
“Like you,” he said simply. “Beautiful.”
Day Eight — Maine Coast (Caden)
The sailing trip on Casco Bay had been Felicity’s idea—she’d seen the brochure at the resort and mentioned how peaceful it looked. We’d booked it immediately.
Now we were out on the water, the October wind filling the sails, and I was watching my wife laugh as spray misted over the bow. I was grateful we were decked out for a cold day because it was freezing. And even in the cold, covered in layer after layer, with a hooded anorak, she was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen. Her hair was escaping from the ponytail and out the sides of her hood, yet nothing stole her smile.
“Take the wheel,” the captain said to me. “She’s all yours.”
I’d expected to be nervous, but it felt natural. Felicity and I worked together to adjust the sail, her hands covering mine on the wheel, both of us learning something new, but thanking God we weren’t alone since I’m pretty sure we weren’t cut out to be sailors in real life.
“I love this,” she said, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sun. “I love being here with you. I love everything about this trip.”
“What else do you want to do?” I asked.
“Everything,” she said without hesitation.
“Everything?”
“Why not? We have time. We have each other.” She looked at me with eyes bright from wind and possibility. “We have our whole lives ahead of us.”
Day Twelve — Acadia National Park (Felicity)
Cadillac Mountain at sunset was Caden’s surprise for our actual anniversary date. We’d hiked up the easier trail in the afternoon, and now we were sitting on the granite summit with the entire Maine coast spread out below us.
He’d secreted a few small champagne bottles into his pack. He broke out wood cutting board and covered it with cheese and fruit, poured us some champagne, and set out a blanket for us to sit. I swear it was like something out of a movie.
“You really thought of everything,” I said, gesturing at the setup.
“I tried,” he admitted. “I wanted our anniversary to be something we’d never forget. I intend to never forget a single moment with you ever again.”
“Hard to believe how we almost lost this,” I said quietly. “All of it.”
“But we didn’t.” He reached for my hand, running his thumb over my wedding ring. “We fought for it. We chose each other. We chose our family—one day at a time, you chose me, though I was so deeply unworthy.”
His words held truth—hard truth, but truth, nonetheless. I thought of that conversation I’d had with the woman on the plane, realizing something she’d said still resonated with me. She’d mentioned something to the effect that love changes through the years. That it doesn’t mean it disappears, but that it does still look different.
I looked at my husband. Looked at the years on his face that hadn’t been there years ago. I looked at the love in his eyes—a love that looked so different from the love I’d seen for so long. I saw the truth in his words. I chose him—one day at a time. And I was glad for it.
The sun was setting behind us, painting the ocean in shades of pink and gold. In the distance, I could see the lighthouse at Bass Harbor, its beam beginning to sweep across the darkening water.
“I have something to tell you,” I said.
Caden looked concerned. “What?”
