Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
And not when she’s right here, loving me with everything she has and only wanting the same in return.
My memory destroyed me, but love is so much more.
You can’t forget love, no matter how hard you try.
Epilogue
Robin
Two years later
“Toby!” I call as the dog runs from the porch and out into the field. He looks over his shoulder and halts in his path, but I wave him off. He can run if he wants to.
I sway easily on the porch swing, the chatter from inside muted by the screen door and the faint hum of the water flowing from the creek out back. I love it out here, on this property and in this house that John built.
Two years we’ve been here. Making steady progress. It may not always be perfect, but we’re safe with each other. And John hasn’t forgotten me and he believes what I tell him about our past. He remembers somethings too which makes days hard here and there, but together we’ll pull through. That’s the most important part. The trust and love between us are strong enough to keep us together.
Just as my eyes drift shut, the screen door opens with a long groan. I pop them open quickly, pretending like the exhaustion isn’t getting to me.
“You coming back in?” John asks me. He’s got a smile on his face and I know he loves this. “After all, the celebration is all for you,” he says and his eyes drift to my swollen belly.
“It’s not for me,” I say with my eyes closed as the little one kicks my hip again. My feet slip across the porch floor as I shift on the swing and try to get more comfortable.
John lets the screen door shut and crosses the porch to sit with me. The swing dips when he sits and wraps his arm around me to pull me closer to him.
“They're here for you,” John whispers into my ear and splays his hand over my belly. I love it when he does that. When his eyes light up with hope. We didn’t plan this little one, but I’m so grateful and happy. And so is John.
I kiss him, feeling a rush of warmth flow through me. I would never have guessed our lives would turn out like this. It’s nearly picture perfect.
At the sound of the door opening again, I pull away, feeling the heat of a blush on my cheeks. John just smiles as he stands and helps me to my feet. The wooden swing gently hits the back of my legs as I get my balance and say goodbye to a group of my coworkers.
“We’re heading out,” Karen says as she waves her hand, the other occupied by a paper plate covered with aluminum foil. A young woman who must be in her early forties, or maybe late thirties walks out with the group. She’s in her gardening clothes and in an instant, I know she’s one of our new neighbors. They live down the road and closer to John’s shop. The closest neighbors we have.
“I really appreciate the invitation,” she says as she stops in front of us. I’ve only had a few conversations with her, but she’s a sweet woman, alone out here for the most part.
“Of course,” I answer her. “I’m so happy you came.” I can’t help the smile on my face or the small yawn that comes after it as John makes small talk with her. I watch him as he talks. It’s night and day from where he was just two short years ago. He’s not perfect, but neither am I. Together though, we’ve gotten through everything. One thing that the memory can always hold on to, is love. There’s never a doubt in either of us that the other person doesn’t truly love them. That’s rare and special and I can’t get over how powerful it is.
“How did you two meet?” our new neighbor asks as she grips her drink in both of her hands. She looks between the two of us with a smile on her face. “You’re such a good-looking couple,” she says. I wish the smile that wants to come to the surface were genuine, but it’s not.
She’s not the first to ask.
And a part of me deep down is terrified that they’ll all find out the truth. Another part wants to scream it out loud and tell everyone what we’ve gone through. Together.
I keep the smile on my face as my husband wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. A lie slips so easily from his lips. It’s a struggle every time, to listen to words that are false, meant to hide the truth.
No one wants to hear our story. The real story. When they ask how we met, no one would expect the harsh reality of our pasts. No one would be able to understand. They would judge us. And they’d never forget it.