We climb higher as the trees press in on both sides until it opens into a clearing at the top of a ridge. And I understand.
The clearing is full of people.
Dolly is there, setting up a folding table laden with food. Presley is stringing lights between two trees. Boone is manning what looks like a portable grill, turning burgers. Meredith is sitting in a lawn chair, directing everyone. And beyond them, the view. The entire valley lies below us, Copper Creek nestled in the center like a jewel. The sun is just beginning to set, painting everything in warm light.
“Wyatt,” I breathe, surprised.
He’s grinning so much. “This is the overlook. Best view in the county. We do picnics up here sometimes for special occasions.”
“And this is a special occasion?”
“You chose to stay. That’s about as special as it gets.”
I’m out of the truck before I can think about it, walking toward the group. These people who have become my family.
Dolly sees me and lets out a whoop. “She’s here! The guest of honor has arrived!”
And then I’m hugged by Dolly, who smells strongly of perfume and hairspray. By Presley, who squeezes me so hard I can barely breathe. By Boone, whose hug is gentle for such a massive man. By Meredith, who cups my face in her soft hands and says, “I’m so proud of you, my dear.”
“How did you arrange all of this?” I ask Wyatt when I finally pull myself away from the group.
“I made some calls while you were sleeping. Turns out people were pretty motivated to celebrate.”
“You did all of this in a few hours?”
“We did all of this,” he says, gesturing at the group. “This is what community looks like, Eleanor. People showing up for each other.”
I blink rapidly. I refuse to cry again.
“Thank you. All of you. I just don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” Dolly says. “Just eat. Boone’s been slaving over that grill for an hour, and he’ll be offended if you don’t try his burgers.”
The evening winds down around ten o’clock. People drift away in twos or threes, carrying leftover food, tired children, and calling goodbyes across the clearing. Meredith fell asleep in her lawn chair an hour ago, and Boone gently carries her to Wyatt’s truck as if she weighs nothing.
“I should help clean up,” I say, but Dolly waves me off.
“You’ve done enough. Go be with your man. Enjoy the stars.”
So I do.
Wyatt and I end up on the tailgate of his truck after he returns from taking his grandmother home, legs dangling, looking out at the valley below. The lights of Copper Creek twinkle in the darkness.
“Heck of a week,” he says.
“Heck of a few months.”
He laughs softly and pulls me closer. I lean into him.
“Thank you,” I say, “for all this, and for not giving up on me.”
“Couldn’t if I tried.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re stuck with me forever now, Eleanor Whitfield.”
“Good.”
We sit there until the last car pulls away, until the clearing is empty and quiet. The only things we can hear are the sound of crickets and the distant murmur of the creek.
And I think, this is it. This is home.
