Lilly is alive. She was tied and thrown into the brush on the side of the road. Luckily she was able to work free of her bonds and flag down a car. She knew better than to call the cops, and instead found her way back to Rosehill. She’s waiting when Malcom and I return. He expected to find more of a fight outside the derelict villa. But instead we found several of the cars gone, and Clarence’s men with them. Whether they heard us fighting or saw the bodies of their cronies, it seems they decided to leave the fighting to the Walkers.
“What will you do?” I ask Malcom, after he’s delivered me safely to Rosehill.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says simply.
It isn’t until much later that I learn he and his men burned the villa to the ground, and with it, all evidence of our suffering. All evidence of Clarence Walker.
I have a choice now, I know. To leave behind this madness, which I know, when Malcom takes over, will only become madder. I have a choice to go back to Waterford and teach and live a small life, and raise these babies myself.
I have a choice. But I think, long ago, before I even realized—I made it.
* * *
“Not bad,” the man says. His face is lined and sickly grey. He’s a big brick of man, slowly whittling with age and illness. He watches us from his chair on the lawn, eyes twinkling. The life in them is fading, but present. “Not bad at all, Malcom.”
Malcom’s arm around my waist tightens. I’m so big now I can’t see my feet. I press my palms gently to my belly, feeling myself glow in the chill of the autumn afternoon. Sampson Gladwell is dying; but slowly, and mercifully, without much pain. He’s on drugs most days, but some days are better than others. It’s the first time Malcom has brought me with him to see his old mentor, the man he has been appointed to succeed.
I know from Malcom’s fondness and many stories that this Sampson is not the man he’s always been. Grief has cut him down.But he’s a survivor,Malcom always says. He wanted me to see Sampson while I was pregnant, just in case the old man doesn’t make it long enough to meet the babies. It’s an honor, in a way, to meet him. Indirectly, he put me through hell. But it could also be argued he brought two impossible people together, and gave them a second chance at a love thought lost.
I lean into the warmth of Malcom. Pride radiates off him like heat.
“They’ll be strong kids,” says Sampson, smiling up at me. “Like their parents. Survivors.”
“Indeed.” Malcom presses his lips to my hair. “And fighters, like their mother.”
Sampson holds out his hands to me. I give him mine, which he cradles. His fingers are cold as ice. I hold them, hoping I can lend even a moment’s warmth. “You brought him back,” Sampson says, very seriously. “This boy was lost when his father was lost, just as I was when my son was taken from me. I’ll never come back. I’m too old, and too tired. But you’ve given this boy something to live for, Miss Rosen. You’ve saved him.”
Tears blur my eyes. “I think he saved me, sir. But thank you for your kindness. For your faith he would do everything necessary.”
“She’s a good one,” Sampson says, as though confiding in Malcom. His cool hands slip from mine, and he sinks back in his chair. “Oh, I’m not long for this world. But you’ve given me peace, both of you. And those precious little ones who have not yet arrived. In the end, family is all that matters. Blood, love, loyalty. The only thing worth living or dying for.”
I turn from his face to Malcom’s, which is grief-stricken and resolute and also filled with hope. “I think I’ve finally learned that,” Malcom admits. “After too many years in hiding.”
“Then I’ve done my job, haven’t I?” Sampson looks very tired. He raises a hand, and a nurse comes down and helps him into his wheelchair. “Oh, but I should rest now. The days feel terribly long. Thank you for visiting me. And you come back, you hear? Before I’m gone for good.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, smiling.
Malcom nods. We stand on the lawn of Sampson’s great villa, watching as he’s brought indoors. “It won’t be too long now,” he says softly, holding me close.
I turn into his arms, hands on his chest. “It’ll be long enough. He’s not going anywhere until he meets them.”
Malcom smiles tenderly, and kisses me. “I forget how stubborn you can be.”
“You love it.”
“Yes,” he says. “I do.”
* * *
A year ago, I was taken. At the time it seemed like the worst thing in the world. Impossible and frightening. A thing that couldn’t happen to someone small and simple like me.
Now I look back, and I can’t imagine it happening any other way.
“God, they’re growing so fast.” Lilly coos over the triplets, furled in sleep in their crib. Three girls. How did I get so lucky? “Oh, Marina is a fighter. See that? Her little fists?”
They’re only two months old. Perfect, fresh little babies still new to the world. They don’t know all the trauma it took to bring them here. They don’t know the wild story of how their parents fell in love. And then out, and then back again—and stronger than ever.
Someday, I’ll tell them. But for now, all they need to know is peace.
