God, that feels like forever ago, even though it was only, what, two days ago? But I do remember him anxiously telling me he had wanted to talk to me about something, followed by my avoidance.
“And how do I know you’re telling the truth now?”
He pauses, running a hand through his hair before standing. “Follow me. I have something to show you”
I do as he asks, following him as he leads me into the study and pulls a small key out from underneath the corner of the rug. Then, he reaches up to the glass case filled with notebooks, unlocks it, and pulls one out.
“You can read this,” he says, handing it to me. “This is evidence of everything I’ve thought about over the past six months, and each entry is dated.”
My eyes widen. “You’re letting me read your journal?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again.”
“Okay,” I breathe, taking the book gingerly from hisoutstretched hand. “I suppose I owe you an explanation as well.”
He nods, and we sit in our usual spots before I explain to him how the angels—well, not angels, apparently—appeared to me in the woods and tried to convince me to help them. I tell him about the promises they made me, my wavering uncertainty of their intentions, and my encounter with them at the masquerade. I also explain how Samuel took the lead and how Elias was quiet and anxious for each of the interactions.
“I wasn’t sure what to believe,” I admit. “But I never gave them the information they wanted. My last meeting with them was the day before I left. I told them I wouldn’t help them, and they must have realized I’d only be a liability from that point, so they told me the truth about the bargain. I decided I would leave to test the truth, whether it would cause a problem for me to be separated from you, and when I found the necklace in my purse, I panicked and everything sort of clicked.”
He’s silent as he listens to my story, nodding occasionally. When I finally finish, he’s quiet for a moment before asking, “Are you still planning on leaving?” Hope and fear clash in his expression, and though he attempts to keep a neutral facade, my eyes zero in on the way his hands grip the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
“No,” I answer, and his tense posture relaxes as he lets out the breath he was holding. “I’m staying, but no more lies. And I have some stipulations.”
He beams, leaning over to take my hand in his. “Anything.”
“I want to travel, to go all the places I’ve dreamed of and do all the things I never had the opportunity to do. I want to experience all the joys of life outside of the constraints I’vebeen confined to.” I may not know exactly what I want out of life yet, but I intend to find out.
Ambrose kisses me deeply, caressing my cheek as if to make sure I’m real. I kiss him back with every ounce of devotion I have to give, warmth blooming in my chest until it encompasses me entirely. When we finally pull away, I could swear my skin emits a soft glow in the dimness of the room.
“I will go to the ends of the Earth and back again if that’s what you desire,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I tease.
“Please do. After all, we have nothing but time.”
EPILOGUE
The midday sun beams down on me as I load the last of the boxes into the moving truck. After months of snow and frigid temperatures, I’m grateful for the onset of spring, though I’ll miss the days of lying by the fireplace, forced to stay inside with the snow piling around the house and insulating us from the outside world.
The months of near-isolation, when we only went out to gather groceries and only had company from Elias’ occasional visits, were filled with deep conversations, particularly about the future.
“Care to go for one more walk?” Ambrose appears behind me with a box in hand labeled “Books.” It’s one of the dozen boxes of books we’re bringing with. The others will remain here, waiting for our return, whether it be a few years or a few decades from now. Only time will tell.
“Of course,” I answer, slipping my hand into Ambrose’s as we walk down the familiar path through the woods, teeming with life as spring awakens the mountains once again.
The church comes into view, but we don’t head for theentrance. I walk with Ambrose around the back to the small graveyard, where we approach the headstone that bears his last name. He sits on the dewy grass, and I follow suit.
“I’m leaving,” Ambrose says softly, speaking to the woman who’s buried beneath the stone. “And I don’t know if you’re out there listening, but I wanted to let you know. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’m doing what you always asked of me—I’m living fully. And I’ve found love.” He squeezes my hand.
I return the gesture, then stand slowly. “I’ll let you have a few minutes,” I tell him. It’s a bittersweet moment, and while I know he doesn’t mind me being there, it only feels right to give him some time alone to say goodbye.
He nods, and I meander around the church before deciding to go inside one last time.
The bright sunshine streams through the stained glass windows, casting fractured, jewel-toned beams of light across the wooden pews. Nothing has changed within these walls, but they carry the ghosts of what transpired that night when I almost lost Ambrose, and he almost lost me.
But here, in the warm daylight, it doesn’t feel quite so ominous. It holds the memories, but they all seem like a distant past, something far behind us.
I wave my hand in a slow, intentional motion, focusing my energy on the candles still strewn about the room. One by one, they flicker to life, flames appearing from thin air. The pocket watch, now on a necklace chain, warms against my chest with the magic.
