Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(109)

Meredith picks the unfinished quilt off the floor, where it had fallen when the paramedics moved Ginny. Stretching it out on her lap, she frowns. “Huh. I’ve never seen this before.” Holding it up for us, her finger touches the low branch on the right-hand side. “Do you know why she did this?”

I smile, taking in the tiny green leaf bud that sits there. “No.” It’s my secret with Ginny. I’ll take it to my grave.

“Here it is.” Gabe lifts a manila envelope up from the dining room table with my full name—Water Fitzgerald—written across the top in block letters and a stamp that reads “Tilden Law Office.”

Jesse and I share a frown.

“I ran into Ward Tilden a few days ago. He told me that Ginny’d been in there to revise her will,” Gabe explains, handing it to me.

I tear it open. Sure enough, it’s dated last Wednesday, the day that Ginny went into town.

Jesse leans over my shoulder to read with me as I scan the pages. It’s a fairly straightforward legal document.

That says Ginny is leaving everything to me.

The house, the farm, the 1,018 acres of land, the Felixes.

Everything.

I feel the color drain from my face. “Wait . . . but . . . I didn’t expect this, or want it. That’s not why . . .” That’s not why I loved Ginny like she was my family.

“We know.” Meredith smiles, a tear rolling down her cheek. “And so did she.”

“So, Ol’ Mr. Fanshaw showed up on my doorstep today.” I pause.

And wait for the old woman to sit up and start ranting about being swindled out of her land. But she remains still, her eyes closed, her face peaceful. The same way she’s been for the past week. I’ve visited her every day, sitting here for hours until my voice grows ragged, relaying everything that Jesse has told me, as well as small things that I think I remember, and all the tiniest flashes that have stirred my subconscious over the past few months. All the things that have started to make sense now.

Jesse has sat with me every night on the porch swing—along with Felix the dog, parked at my feet—and highlighted all the ways that I’m the same person.

And all the ways that I’m now so much stronger.

I can’t be angry with him, or Meredith and Gabe. Maybe I should be, maybe I need my head examined by Dr. Weimer yet again, but I’ve been through too much to be angry about something that they did with only my best interests at heart. And I believe they really did have my best interests at heart.

Jesse . . . My blood still races when I see him throw a leg over the fence. My chest still swells when I think about how much he must care for me.

And my heart now aches when I think about how much he risked for me.

He saved me long before the night I almost died; that much I’m sure of. Maybe one day I’ll remember exactly how.

I take Ginny’s weathered hand in between mine. The heart monitor catches a blip—three beats that are much faster than the rest—before it slows.

And then stops.

One long, everlasting beep cuts through the room and a giant ball forms in my throat.

“It’s time to go see your big white oak in full bloom again, Ginny.”

I watch Jesse park beside Ginny’s big, yellow truck from my perch on the concrete steps outside of the hospital. I guess it’s my big, yellow truck now. Everything of Ginny’s is technically mine, a concept I haven’t given any thought to.

All that’s been cycling through my head since I called Jesse is how much I need him here.

Here, right now.

Here, in my life.

Just as he always seems to be.

Here. For me.

He runs up the steps two at a time to take the seat beside me, his body wedged next to mine. The Hart Brothers work shirt he wears smells of fire—a comforting mix of burnt bark and leaves. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

It reminds me of all those nights together by the woodstove, wrapped up in a wool blanket. The ones I can remember as Water and the ones I can’t as Alex. But I know that smell.

It’s Jesse, and it feels like warmth, like contentment. Like love.

We sit in silence as the sun drops down behind the mountains.

And then I slip my hand into his. “Let’s go home.”

To exactly where I’m meant to be.

EPILOGUE

“It’s nice to have the stream back.” The long snake of water runs through the corral, sun glittering off it. Amber was right; it was nothing but an indent in the dirt by August of last year, the summer heat emptying it completely.

And yet it has found its way back again this year.

Jesse answers with a kiss against the corner of my mouth, draping his arms over the newly mended fence on either side of me as a line of horses gallops past, enjoying the first warm day of spring. All eight of them—the Felixes, Lulu, and their five new friends. We have another two boarders coming next week, and most weekends are busy with owners and little girls like Zoe coming to ride their horses.

The ranch has come back to life.

A clatter of metal rings through the quiet, followed by Gabe’s curses and Jesse’s low chuckle. “I should probably go help him before he f**ks that engine up.”

“No bickering.” I watch Jesse’s back as he heads for our garage, to where the rusted and inoperable pea-green ’67 Mustang sits, its round headlights peeking out. It’s Gabe’s pet project, now that he has retired. Meredith insisted that he find one because she was afraid she’d strangle him otherwise.