Sweet Soul (Sweet Home #5)(91)

I would rise.

And I’d be heard, on my own terms.

Forcing my eyes to open, I focused on the tiled floor and read the title aloud. “Sweet Soul,” I said, internally wincing when the words echoed through the mic.

Inhaling again, I lifted my eyes, and this time, Levi was on his feet. I could see that he was terrified for me, but at the same time, I could see the utter pride glaring in his eyes. That pride caused me to lower the paper.

Because I knew this poem by heart. It was him.

All of this was him and me:



“Born into silence, a world with no sound,

Living in coldness, words trapped and bound.

Kept in dark pain, by fears and by rain,

The needles brought poison, venom to vein.

Snatched in the night, in darkness she fell,

Taunted and tortured, muteness her cell.

Voices inside, a loop in her mind,

Like daggers they pierce, no scars would they find.

Tempted by sharpness, immersed in the flood,

Two strikes to the flesh, the welcome of blood.

Brought back to fear, no heaven she met,

A shadow she fled, hard streets cold and wet.

Alone and afraid, long endless nights,

‘Til pure he came, no malice, just light.

Took into warmth, heart torn and too low,

A smile and a jar, Leander and his Hero.

He gave her the world, a life so unknown,

Heart finding beat, their fate it was sown.

Fear pushed aside, no victim, no choice,

He gave her the moon, her twin soul, her voice.

She gave him the shine, a stitched up heart hole,

The blessing to her, the purest sweet soul.

She, the silent girl, bereft and alone,

He, the silent boy, who through love, brought her home.”



As the poem came to an end, the mic echoed my last word. The house dropped to silence, but then broke into loud claps. My heart slammed in my chest, and I looked up to see Levi pushing through the crowd, tears flooding his face.

I stepped off the stage, my head low, when suddenly Levi was before me, his finger under my chin. I lifted my eyes on a deep breath, and was met with disbelieving eyes. The gray eyes I loved.

“Baby,” he rasped, unable to speak. I watched his mouth work, but he had no words. This time I would be his voice.

“I wanted to show you what you mean to me. And I wanted to do it proudly, not hiding my words.” I brought my hand to my chest. “It came from my heart. I wanted to speak from it too.”

“Elsie,” Levi croaked and pressed his mouth against mine. I could taste the salt from his tears on his lips. He broke away but his hands were in my hair, his warm breath drifted across my face. “I’m so proud of you, bella mia. So proud that I have no words… that poem… your beautiful voice… the bravery to get up on that stage.”

“Was because of you,” I whispered, the tears leaking from my eyes. “All of this. What I am now and who I’ll be one day… is because of you.”

“No,” Levi shook his head. “You don’t understand. You did that for me. I was Leander, Elsie. I was the drowning man. But where he lost Hero’s light in the storm, you let yours shine for me. You brought me from the dark. You brought me home safe.”

Sighing, I fell into Levi’s arms, knowing that I’d conquered my fears. I’d been given my voice back. I had a reason to live.

And live we both would.

One shy lost soul had found one silent lonely heart.

We were both no longer lonely.

We were both no longer lost.

We were found.

And we were blessed.





Epilogue


Levi


Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Eighteen years later…



“It’s just through here, come on.”

Jackson and Penelope came barreling through, Penelope pushing her twin brother, Jackson, out of the way.

“Penelope, quit pushing your brother!” I scolded, but it was to no avail as our boisterous six-year-old daughter jumped into my arms, almost knocking me to the floor.

Jackson ran up behind, gripping onto my legs. “Where’s Mommy?” Jackson called, his cute voice just slightly off key.

“I’m here, baby boy,” Elsie called as she came out through the trees. I smiled at my wife, swatting away the mosquitos from her bare legs. She looked beautiful as always dressed in her cute black jean shorts and white fitted t-shirt. Her blonde hair sat on her shoulders, and in her arms, she held a crate of four mason jars.

Jackson ran over to her and held on to her waist. I watched my blond son with blue eyes smile up at his mom, their special bond unbreakable.

When Jackson and Penelope were born, we knew there was a chance that one, or both, would have hearing problems. Penelope came out first and was in perfect health, but it was clear from early on that Jackson had no hearing in his left ear, but luckily, like his mom, he had some hearing in his right, almost one hundred percent.

It made me adore him more if possible, because like his mom, he had a slight inflection to his voice. But unlike his mom, he would never grow up thinking he should be ashamed of it or hide it. Elsie was teaching him to be proud, as the head counselor at Kind, she would ensure that our baby boy never was ashamed to be exactly who he was—without apology.