Page 59 of Rhett & Moses
With that characteristic blend of warmth and acerbity, she shooed us out the door, back into the rain-soaked day that marked our last in Gomillion.
“Where to now?” Rhett asked as we stood under the awning, the rain still falling steadily around us.
I considered the options, feeling the weight of limited time. “There’s one place I’d like to visit before we leave. If you don’t mind getting a little wet.”
Rhett smiled, understanding in his eyes. “Lead the way.”
We made our way through town, past the square with its newly restored Paul Bunyan statue, beyond the school where so much had happened this week, to the small community cemetery on the outskirts of Gomillion. Here, beneath ancient oak trees that provided some shelter from the rain, lay generations of local families, including my grandmother, the one person who had always seen me clearly, accepted me completely.
“I haven’t been here since her funeral,” I admitted as we approached her simple headstone. “Couldn’t face it, all these years.”
Rhett squeezed my hand in silent support as I crouched down, brushing away fallen leaves from the engraved stone. Eleanor Morley, Beloved Wife, Mother, Grandmother. The dates spanning a long, full life that had ended just a year before the statue incident, depriving me of what might have been my only ally during that difficult time.
“She would have believed you,” Rhett said softly. “About what really happened.”
“She would have,” I agreed, a lump forming in my throat. “Without question. And she would have taken on the entire Hayes family single-handedly to defend me.”
“She sounds formidable.”
“She was,” I smiled at the memory. “Five feet tall in her orthopedic shoes, but with enough determination for someone twice her size. She’s the one who taught me to stand up for myself, to be honest about who I was, even when it was difficult.”
“I wish I’d met her,” Rhett said, his voice warm with genuine regret.
“She would have loved you,” I told him with certainty. “She had a thing for tall, handsome men with strong convictions and kind eyes.”
“Sounds like you inherited her good taste,” Rhett teased gently, earning a small laugh from me despite the emotional setting.
We stood there for a few minutes longer, the rain falling softly around us, creating a private world beneath the shelter of the oak trees. I felt a sense of peace settle over me, a closure I hadn’t realized I needed. Coming here with Rhett, introducing him to the memory of my grandmother, felt like connecting two essential parts of myself that had long been separated.
“Thank you,” I said as we finally turned to leave. “For coming with me.”
“Thank you for sharing her with me,” Rhett replied simply.
The rain had lightened to a gentle mist by the time we returned to the hotel, our clothes damp but our spirits somehow lighter. The emotional visit to the cemetery had shifted something in me, a final reconciliation with Gomillion, perhaps, or simply the acknowledgment that some connections never truly break, no matter the time or distance.
In our room, we began the final preparations for departure, checking drawers for forgotten items, organizing travel documents, the mundane rituals that marked the end of our time together. The clock on the nightstand seemed to move too quickly, minutes slipping away like water through cupped hands.
“Rhett,” I said suddenly, setting down the shirt I’d been folding. “I don’t want to leave like this.”
He looked up from his suitcase, concern etched in his features. “Like what?”
“Like we’re just going through the motions. Like this is just an ordinary departure.” I moved closer to him, needing the physical connection to express what words couldn’t quite capture. “We’ve spent twenty years apart. I don’t want to waste a single moment we have left today.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, quickly followed by a heat that matched the growing urgency in my chest. He reached for me, his hands framing my face with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his gaze.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion and desire.
In answer, I kissed him, not the tender explorations of previous days but something deeper, more demanding. A physical manifestation of everything I couldn’t say about what this week had meant, what his return to my life signified.
Rhett responded immediately, matching my intensity with his own. His hands moved from my face to my shoulders, down my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, rapid and strong, echoing my own.
We moved together toward the bed, shedding clothing with urgent hands. The rain continued outside, creating a rhythm that underscored our movements, a private soundtrack to this moment of connection before separation.
When we finally came together, skin against skin, it was with a tenderness that belied the initial urgency. Rhett’s hands mapped my body as if memorizing every contour, every response. I did the same, cataloging the familiar and the new, the strong planes of his chest, the sensitive spot at the base of his throat that made him gasp when kissed, the way his eyes darkened when I traced patterns across his skin.
“Stay with me,” he whispered against my neck, the double meaning clear in his voice. Stay present in this moment. Stay in my life beyond today.
“I’m here,” I promised, holding his gaze as we moved together. “I’m not going anywhere. Not really.”
