With a big smile and tears of joy, I cut the ribbon.
Epilogue
Noah
The following spring
I set a mug of coffee on my wife’s nightstand, kiss her temple, and walk to our bedroom window.
It’s already open on our gardens and the village beyond—Willow likes to sleep to the sounds of nature. As the sky turns from mauve to baby pink, mist rises from the river, shrouding the morning beauty in mystery. Calla trots through the gardens, now dashing to the barn as it opens on Maple and Beck. The dogs horse around while my brother admires his work.
He truly outdid himself, turning Lilyvale into a fantasy that would put any botanical garden to shame. He’s been planning this since last fall, when he moved shrubs and planted hundreds of bulbs. Then he resumed his work after the thaw, adding perennials and annuals in strategic places.
Now Willow is getting her fairytale wedding (or vow renewal, to be exact) in the spectacular setting of Lilyvale.
Meanwhile I worked with our friends to plan a party for the whole town where Willow wouldn’t have to worry about anything. She kept saying she didn’t need that, but she’s a Callaway, dammit, and she’s getting her fairytale “wedding” at Lilyvale.
Even the ghosts are excited. Last night the women were in their best attire, giggling amongst themselves. And some of the men appeared to me—a first—nodding with respect. I felt a burst of pride.
And peace.
Willow wraps her arm around my middle and leans against me. “Hey you.”
I pull her closer to me as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“I don’t know what to say,” she says, emotion raw in her voice. “Look, even the roses are blooming.”
“’Course they are.” It’s as if I can sense Mom’s presence today, and I know she’s here with us.
“It’s even more beautiful than in my wildest dreams,” she whispers. “See, it’s perfect. We’ll be saying our vows looking at the river and the mountains and with Lilyvale at our back.”
“Lilyvale will always have our back,” I say, smiling into her hair.
We’re having the ceremony on the patio, with guests overflowing in the garden, and the party will spill down onto our riverbanks. Tents are already up, tables set. An archway of flowers intermingled with fairy lights leads from the house to the water.
Throughout the garden, Beck built out small garden nooks that we’re using for beer and cider stands, creemee stations, s’mores nooks, and even a tiny cheese-and-charcuterie cabin.
“We should get ready, Mr. Callaway. The ceremony’s at three, but you know how it is…”
“Yup.” Half the town is already trickling in to help, and the pre-party is already started.
Beck’s voice wafts up to us. “What are these little burlap bags?”
“Don’t touch!” Ms. Angela answers him. “They’re maple candy favors, and you’ll ruin your appetite.”
“Yo! I’m making breakfast,” Griff barks, his voice sounding through the garden and inside the house.
Lane’s baby, Wren, lets out a piercing shriek. “Better get used to it,” Lane says from somewhere down the hall. “No sleeping with the uncles around.”
I hold Willow’s hand in mine as we walk up the aisle to our spot next to Ms. Angela and turn to face our assembled friends and family. “We weren’t sure how a vow renewal is supposed to work,” I say, “so we’re going to do this our way.” I look at Willow, and she encourages me with a smile. We discussed what we were going to say, and she wanted me to be the one to deliver the message.
“It didn’t feel right for us to have Willow walk down the aisle. Or for me to be waiting for her up here. After all, this isn’t a wedding. This is just an excuse you all wanted to throw us a party.”
Laughter ripples through the garden. “And thank you for that. Thank you to all of you for making this happen.” Willow smiles and nods, and Ms. Angela straightens, ready to take over with her part of the ceremony.
But I signal for her to wait, and with a tightening throat, deliver a part of the message that Willow isn’t aware of. “But as we all know, Willow is who made us happen. It wouldn’t be rightfor me to be waiting for her up here. She’s who loved me all along. Silently. Quietly.” I slide a finger under my glasses to wipe a tear. “Too quietly.”
The assembly has gone eerily silent, and it feels like even nature is holding her breath.
