Most of All You: A Love Story(95)

I put my head in my hands as George gripped my shoulder and his comforting presence steadied my heart. And I cried.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


It’s now or never. Aim for the heart.

Shadow, the Baron of Wishbone

Plunge it deep.

Gambit, the Duke of Thieves

With all your strength, my love.

Lemon Fair, the Queen of Meringue

I believe in you. Be brave. For me. For us.

Lady Eloise of the Daffodil Fields

GABRIEL

April was a whirlwind of interviews and ceremonies. I only did one major TV network interview, and that was with Wyatt and his parents. The fear in Wyatt’s eyes had disappeared, and he looked like a different kid than the one I’d first seen in that basement what now seemed like a million years ago. He had a strong will. He’d be okay. And if he needed someone to talk to, I’d always be available.

There were a few dinners held in town for me, and I looked at them as opportunities to make a new start with the people of Morlea. I was embarrassed to be regaled as a hero, but I went anyway and after they were over, I was glad I had.

Still, it was nice when things quieted down and I was able to get back to the simple life I enjoyed.

Dominic surprised me one day with a small black puppy he said he’d found wandering around the quarry, obviously abandoned by someone. I didn’t believe his story—he thought I was lonely and was trying to provide me some companionship. “You don’t have to take him,” he said. “I just thought I’d offer. It’s your choice.”

I smiled at his need to be overly cautious when it came to trying to guide me or my life in any capacity. I appreciated that he recognized how overbearing he’d been in the past and the problems it’d caused in our relationship, but I also knew he had brought the puppy over because he cared about me. “Hey Dom, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I’ll let you know if you need to back off, okay?”

He nodded, huffing out a thin laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

I gave my attention back to the puppy, who was looking between Dom and me, waiting to find out if he had a new home. I supposed I could use a friend. So I took the small, sad-eyed dog and named him Dusty.

I was out back repairing a break in my fence one blue-skied spring day when Dusty started barking his high-pitched puppy bark. I stood up slowly, taking my baseball cap off and smoothing my sweaty hair back before replacing my cap.

Dusty was chasing a butterfly nearby, romping and jumping through the daffodils that grew in the field behind my yard. For a minute, I let the moment soak into my skin—the strange mixture of loss I carried inside and the peacefulness of a puppy scampering in a field of yellow. How extraordinary life could be: so filled with glorious beauty and heartrending despair. And so often swirled together so that you couldn’t separate the two.

Dusty suddenly lost interest in the butterfly and started running in the other direction.

I turned to see Eloise walking toward me from the front of the house.

My heart skipped a beat and my breath stuttered as I froze, unblinking, as if she might be a vision, a dream that would disappear into a wisp of smoke and drift away if I closed my eyes for even a moment.

But no, she was real, and she was smiling as she came closer, holding a bag of some sort on one arm, and a small box tied with string in the other, wearing a flowered sundress that swayed around her calves as she walked. Her hair—all that beautiful, chameleon hair—was down and curling in front of her breasts and down her back. The sun was shining on it, and I had a brief flash of the very first time I’d seen her under the stage lights. The color of her hair had reminded me of a bottle of honey sitting on a windowsill, and I thought the same thing now. Only this time there was something in her eyes that I’d never seen there before—a sort of calm steadiness in her gaze.

“Hi,” I breathed when she stopped in front of me. I took off my cap and, without looking, tossed it in the general direction of where my toolbox sat on the ground. My eyes roamed Ellie’s face, drinking her in, my heart racing at the unexpectedness of this, of her.

“Hi,” she said. She smiled nervously, sweetly as she held up what I now saw was a vinyl cooler and a pie box. “I made you dinner. Pesto pasta with chicken. And I baked you a pie—lemon meringue.” Her smile grew. “It only took me two tries before I got it perfect. You were right, I can do lots of things if I try hard enough.” She bit at her lip. “Sometimes it’s the second try that really sticks.”

Hopeful joy rose up in my chest, and I let out a small laugh, nodding. “Yeah.”

Dusty came charging up to her, wagging his tail and barking happily at her feet. She set the cooler on a patch of grass, putting the pie box on top of it. She laughed and bent down, taking Dusty’s face in her hands and scratching his chin. “Well, hi there. Who are you?”

I cleared my throat. “His name’s Dusty. Dominic got him for me.”

“Dusty,” she murmured, running her hand over his black coat. “It’s a good name.” He rolled onto the ground and presented his belly, and she laughed and rubbed him there for a moment before standing again. I swallowed.

“I’ve read every article about you. I …” She paused and shook her head, looking off in the distance for a moment as tears filled her eyes, “I saved every one of them. I watched the show with you and Wyatt’s family and I … God, I was so scared when I learned what you’d done. Scared but mostly proud. So proud …” Her words dropped away as she licked her lips, stepping closer.