She looked at me, and I could tell that now she was the one holding her breath. I took her hands. “Look—I know you might need some time to absorb this. It might seem like I’m kind of springing this on you. But here’s the bottom line: I’m willing to make whatever changes you want so that you and I and the girls can be together from here on out.”
58
hope
Istared at him across the table, trying to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest. Did I dare believe what I wanted to believe?
I knew all about denial and self-deception, about not seeing things you don’t want to see or deal with. God knows I’d done that with Kurt.
But was it possible that self-deception could work the other way, as well? Was it possible to keep yourself from believing that the thing you wanted the very most in the world, you already had? Was it possible that I was getting—that I already had—my heart’s desire?
His gaze poured into mine. “So... what do you think?”
I think that my heart has never felt so full. I think I’m more blessed than anyone ever had any reason to be. I think that God is generous and kind beyond all comprehension. I think that it’s going to be so much fun to tell you that I already quit my job and plan to move back. I think that I can’t wait to see Zoey’s next lost tooth and hear Sophie’s next breathless tale.
Matt looked kind of blurry through my damp eyes, but I’m sure I was grinning like a loon. “You love me?” I asked, my voice kind of raw and raspy.
“With all my heart.”
“Oh, Matt—I love you, too! That’s why I couldn’t stand to spend any more time with you!”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Do you realize how insane that sounds?”
“Only as I heard myself say it. It didn’t sound that messed up in my head.”
We both laughed. He reached out and stroked my cheek, and I think he would have kissed me, but I couldn’t stop talking. “I have so much to tell you... like how I already quit my job and I’m moving back to Louisiana, but now, thank God, I don’t have to move to Covington or Madisonville in order to avoid you.”
He pulled back. “Wait—you’re already planning to move back? But you were planning to avoid me?”
“Yes, because I love you so, and... and now I’m rambling. I always ramble when I’m excited.”
“I’ve noticed.” His eyes sparkled like sunshine on the lake. “Want me to help you stop?”
I nodded, then wrapped my arms around him as he gathered me close and kissed me. My heart felt like it would jump out of my chest, but my thoughts settled in to one single, solitary thought:
Home. I was finally, really home.
59
adelaide
THE FOLLOWING APRIL
The airplane’s microphone crackled to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we should be on the ground in approximately fifteen minutes. It’s raining in New Orleans, so we’re going to hit some bumpy weather on our descent. Flight attendants, please take your seats.”
“We’re almost there, Mom,” Eddie said. “Time to fasten your seat belt.”
Oh, fiddle. I hated restraints of any kind—almost as much as I hated being treated like a child. Truth was, I knew my short-term memory was faulty and my hearing was bad and I couldn’t always remember the names of things, but I was still me, inside, and I hated being told what to do. I’d mostly recovered from my fall—I no longer had rib pain, my headaches were less frequent, and most of the time I didn’t see double—but there was no recovery from old age. Time marches on.
I bit my tongue and let Eddie click the metal contraption around my lap. No point in telling him that I wasn’t going to die today in a plane crash or a bumpy landing; Mother had hinted I was going to get to hold a great-grandbaby or two before I left this earth. What mattered, I’d learned, wasn’t being right or having all the answers, but loving and being loved. Both Eddie and I felt that way when I let him watch out for me.
“I sure hope this rain stops before Saturday,” Ralph worried.
We were returning to Louisiana for Hope and Matt’s wedding. They were holding it in the nature preserve, under the Wedding Tree—which struck me as the loveliest, most ideal location imaginable.
Ralph and Eddie, who’d been acting as unofficial long-distance wedding planners and fretting like mothers of the bride, were worried that it might be cold or rain, but I’d convinced Hope it wouldn’t. I hadn’t exactly said that Mother promised it would be a beautiful day—truth was, Mother had quit talking to me as soon as I’d moved to California nine months ago—but I’d told Hope that she shouldn’t worry, that the weather would be perfect. I’d spoken as if I had some special knowledge.
And I did. I knew that a little rain wouldn’t ruin the wedding; they could simply hold the ceremony under the tent that would be set up nearby for the reception if they needed to. I also knew that it was the things that didn’t go as planned that you talked about and laughed about years later. I knew that whatever happened would be absolutely wonderful.
