Page 49 of She Autumn Be Mine

“Or we could both stay home and work on each other, wifey.”

I circled my arms around his neck. “I’d like that. But I suppose in our marital bliss, we need to accept the reality that there is life beyond this cabin,” I teased. I finally had a life I’d been afraid to dream about over a year ago.

At least on the surface. Because underneath it, the second clock ran. It ticked in our heads over a Motion to Dismiss filing our shark of a lawyer Katherine Dunn had submitted to the court. It ticked every time Jake checked the rearview mirror or did a slow scan of the grocery store parking lot before letting us out of the truck, making sure it was safe. It ticked at night, after we’d loved on each other soft and quiet so as not to wake the baby, when I’d catch Jake lying awake, watching the window, worried without telling me he was.

The Eatons hadn’t gone anywhere. They’d just gone quiet, letting the legal system do its job.

Katherine's motion to the court stated in about forty pages, that the grandparents didn't get to sue just because they're grandparents and rich. The way she’d explained it to me? They'd need me dead, or Stetson having lived under their roof for a year, and neither of those things were true.

The dead part I didn’t like hearing, and neither did Jake. That was why I kept my phone on me at all times, location shared with him, and what kept him on constant alert.

“Be safe. Tell Mom and Jamie hi from me. See you at dinner.” Jake kissed me, hugged Stetson one more time, and left the cabin; his commute to work was less than a five minute walk to the bunkhouse.

“Dada-bye.” I picked up my little guy and we watched him go from the cabin window, same every day, standing there until the road curved to the barns and we couldn’t see him anymore.

How dared the Eatons claim I wasn’t a fit mother. The Constitution itself gave me the right to decide who was in my son's life. Which definitely would not be them.

Katherine had detailed in her dismissal motion about my new, married life here. About escaping Brantley’s abuse to be here. She had every confidence the judge would rule in our favor and this whole mess would simply go away. In her exact words: 'The Eatons don't have a case. They have a grudge with a filing fee.'

The wait time for the court’s decision was pure agony. There were whole hours I lost now and then playing out the negatives and what could happen if the motion to dismiss got denied.

In the kitchen, I went through yesterday’s mail, and grinned at a bit of good news. The insurance cards arrived, one for me and one for Stetson. I stared at mine in my hand.

“Autumn McCall,” I read it off. “Now that has a ring to it.” McCALL, AUTUMN, spouse—it thrilled me to no end. I may have looked at it more times than any human being has ever looked at an insurance card. I immediately called and made Stetson a pediatrician appointment on the books for his eighteen-month checkup in December and cried when I got off the phone.

Nobody warns you that safety, when it finally shows up, hits harder than fear ever did.

About eleven days later, while I was elbow-deep in a sink of dishes, Jake was home for lunch, sharing a peanut butter sandwich with Stetson—one bite for the boy, one for the man, both of them entirely solemn about the ritual.

My phone buzzed against the counter. Katherine Dunn’s name appeared there. My stomach dropped through the cabin floor and I wiped my hands and answered on speaker so Jake could hear.

“Mrs. McCall, I have the news we’ve been waiting for. Are you seated?” I couldn’t tell if this was good or bad news. That woman only had one speed for her voice: calm and always professional.

“Go ahead. And I’m here with Jake, too.” He came into the kitchen and we held hands, staring into each other’s eyes, bracing for the news.

“Judge Hollis granted our motion this morning. The petition is dismissed for the Eatons failure to state sufficient grounds. There is no case. No trial. Barring new facts—which do not exist—the Eatons of Sheridan have no legal path to your son.”

The kitchen blurred in my vision. “Did I hear you right?”

“It’s over, Autumn.” First time she’d ever used my first name. “You beat them. Go hug your family. It has been a genuine pleasure to see you through this.

We hung up, and I don’t know which of us moved first. He picked me up clean off the floor, and I was laughing and sobbing at the same time into his neck.

“Mama! Dada!” Stetson—having no idea on earth what was happening but committed to the spirit of the thing—banged both hands on the high chair tray and shrieked like it was his birthday.

“It’s over.” I whispered it into Jake’s neck, testing it at first to see if it was real. Then louder, at the ceiling, at Wyoming, at every mile between here and the horrible Eatons: “It’s OVER.”

“I knew it. Well, I didn’t know for sure, but I hoped everything would work out for us.” Jake pressed the hair back from my face, happy, but with an edge. “We married partly to battle them together. But now this dismissal came rather easily. Any regrets about our union?”

“No. Absolutely not, Jake. If anything… The custody petition served as the shot that got us both to realize we were meant to be more than friends. I have no regrets, Mr. McCall.” I leaned fully into him with a kiss to prove it.

After that, we called everyone. Dot screamed so loud Jake held the phone at arm’s length. Jamie cried. Nanette made me repeat the words “failure to state sufficient grounds” three times so she could write them down. Trig’s call wouldn’t come until Sunday, so I wrote him a letter on the spot with tears dripping onto the ink, and Jake drove it to the post office like it was a rescue mission.

And Dot—God bless that woman’s radar—called back with one more thing.

“You know what? I haven’t had my grandbaby overnight since the wedding, and tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m coming for him at four. Don’t argue with me, honey. You two can have a nice time tonight alone.”

By quarter past four, Stetson was bundled up in her truck, with Mr. McCall driving, and off they went. For only the second time ever, my son wasn’t with me tonight. I’d be okay, sad, but I dealt with this better than I had our wedding night. I blew kisses, and the cabin went quiet without the pitter-patter of his feet and all his new vocabulary.