Page 84 of Where It All Began
“This yours?”
Ellery, a sweetheart of a teenager who was going through an unfortunate goth phase, clomped over in her knee-high platform boots. The goat chewed at the party streamer someone had tied loosely around its neck.
Phoebe had no idea where the goat or the party streamer came from. She shook her head. “I’ve never seen that goat before in my life.”
The goat bleated and dug at the ground with one dainty foot.
Ellery pressed her lips together, her black lipstick forming a dash on her pale face. “What should we do with her? I think it’s a her. She has long lashes and little feet.”
The goat’s yellow eyes fixed on Jax as he wandered by, a slice of pizza in his hand. Before anyone could react, the goat snatched the pizza out of his grip, her ears and tail twitching as she devoured the pineapple and olive.
“What the—” Jax peered at the goat. “Did we get a goat?”
Phoebe shrugged. “I guess so. Ellery, can you put her in with Leopold at the front of the barn before she eats everyone else’s pizza? He’ll probably like the company.”
“Sure!” Ellery clomped off with the goat in tow.
Only in Blue Moon would a goat crash a party, Phoebe thought.
The Wild Nigels ended their song to tremendous applause from the nowhere near sober audience.
Fran, the twenty-year-old band leader with a purple Mohawk that matched the flames on her wheelchair, leaned into her microphone. “This next one’s before our time, but it’s a little something we’ve been working on for John for his wedding anniversary. This one’s for you, Phoebe.” Fran pointed pistol fingers at Phoebe. “Guys, I’m gonna need your help with this one.”
Phoebe’s sons, all three of them, a little the worse the wear due to whatever alcohol had been flowing like Niagara Falls took the stage. Well, Carter staggered onto it. Beckett tripped over it, and Jax climbed him like a mountain goat before dragging his inebriated brother onto the stage.
Phoebe’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. She pulled Mrs. Nordemann’s cloak of mourning—a gift along with the woman’s special tofu kale casserole—a little tighter around her shoulders. And as the first strains of “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?” poured out, she hooted. A thousand memories of that first summer flooding through her.
It was a beginning in the end, and it was beautiful.
Her boys crowded around the microphone for the chorus, and Phoebe grinned up into the dark sky where the stars twinkled just as they always had and the navy blue of night clung like a soft blanket.
She brought her fingertips to her lips and blew a kiss heavenward.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Present Day
Lovingly, Phoebe tucked John’s essay back into the envelope. She’d read John’s goodbye at least a thousand times in the first year without him. And every year since then, she revisited it, remembering the unforgettable man.
She dabbed at her eyes with another tissue and gulped down some wine to ease the tightness in her throat.It was amazing, the things the human heart could contain,she mused. The joy, the grief, the peace, and the strife. The shelves above her were a testament to that. Loosely organized in chronological order, the mismatched frames and their images told the story of a life full of love and loss, joy, and the underlying satisfaction that carried through it all.
Her first wedding day picture, in a whitewashed wood frame, showed her standing hand in hand with John saying their vows against a backdrop of sunflowers that went on forever. There were baby pictures of the boys, kindergarten and Cub Scouts, prom and sports. John and the boys. The farm as it had been back on the day she’d arrived. There were her sons’ weddings and the babies and not-so babies.
Her second wedding picture resided in a lovely filigree frame, one of her in Franklin’s arms on the dance floor, laughing at something wonderful. Deliriously happy again. Wasn’t it strange that she could remember both wedding days so perfectly in high-definition detail? She felt like the same person who stepped foot on this farm in 1985, yet so much had changed within and without.
Her sons had deemed Franklin a man among men—at least after their initial shock that Phoebe was indeed dating. Together, she and Franklin had taken their two families and joined them in ways that could never be undone.
Franklin supported and encouraged her to remember John, to keep him an integral part of their blended family. And she loved him all the more for it. He made her laugh every single day with his wicked sense of humor, and Phoebe knew John would approve of her choice. And through Franklin, Phoebe finally got the girls she’d wished for. Her step-daughters were smart, sweet, and strong, and she loved them as fiercely as she did her own sons.
It was a beautiful life so far, and she couldn’t wait to see what was next.
Phoebe counted her lucky stars every damn day that she got to love the two best men in the world and raise three more. The tears were dry, and her smile wide. Somedays, the gratitude she felt for her life overwhelmed her.
Life was hard, but that’s what made it so incredibly good. That’s what made her appreciate every second that she had on this earth. Even on the darkest day, there was still beauty to see, still love to find. There was still a beginning to find in every end. She knew that now and hoped that her family knew it, too.
She heard the screen door swing open at the front of the house and a chorus of “Mom!”
Her boys, men now—husbands and fathers—trooped inside. All tall and dark. Beckett impeccably dressed as always, hair neatly trimmed. Carter, with his thick beard, and Jax, in rumpled flannel, leaned more toward casual.
