She paused to let that sink in, then said the most important thing of all. “What I feel is that I love you, Trent, and I love Olivia, too. I can’t imagine not having the two of you in my life. Please forgive me. Please be a part of my life.”
Trent raised a shaking finger to her lips and pressed until she fell silent. “You changed my saying,” he mumbled. His finger remained pressed softly against her mouth.
Amy nodded. Her eyes grew wide as she waited to find out what Trent would say next.
He moved his finger down and used it to prop up her chin. Bringing his face close, he whispered, “I love you, Amy. So much.” And then he gave her the most beautiful kiss, so full of everything they were feeling for each other in that moment—everything they’d felt for so long but had been afraid to admit to each other or to themselves.
A gasp from the doorway caused them to pull apart. There stood Olivia shaking her head with a hand on her hip. “Finally!” she shouted, then turned and walked out of the room.
“She’s right,” Amy said with a laugh.
Trent kissed her again, and eventually they all had some tea.
Chapter 49
The weeks passed, and during each of them, Amy found herself deliriously happy. She and Olivia started a nightly routine, in which Amy would call and each would share a special memory about her mother—something new and different each day. Even though Amy’s mother had been gone for nearly half a year now, she now felt closer to her than ever before.
Bridget found a great new apartment that didn’t just allow, but also embraced her three rambunctious dogs. The residents of her building got together for joint walks several evenings a week. Of course, spunky Bridget made several new friends, and even picked up a suitor or two along the way. She’d still have the summer to work on training her pack before school started back up, too, and Amy had no doubt that Rosco, Baby, and Teddy would all be perfect canine citizens soon enough.
Nichole had so much fun watching Belle for the two days the cat was with her that she ultimately decided to adopt two cats of her own. After all, her research had informed her that animals were often happiest in pairs, and that’s precisely why she took in one white cat named Salt and one with shiny black fur named Pepper.
Hazel continued to decorate Amy’s classroom with a bold new design scheme each month. She’d recently decided to take her love of all things arts and crafts even further by starting up a monthly paint night. Tonight was the first ever get-together, and it wasn’t even on a Sunday. Everyone was invited, too. Even the dogs, though Amy was pretty sure Hazel would come to regret that before the night was through. And nobody was more excited than Olivia . . . Well, except maybe Hazel herself.
She’d instructed her friends not to bring a dish as they did for their potlucks, but Amy couldn’t resist bringing a batch of heavily sprinkled fairy cookies, even if she and Olivia would likely be the only ones eating them.
“Come in, come in,” Hazel cried, hugging each guest as they arrived. Apparently, she loved Amy’s pink lace dress so much, she’d purchased one just like it and was wearing it now. Amy felt underdressed in her old jeans and stained T-shirt, but Hazel had invited them here to paint and most of them had dressed accordingly.
They started with some finger foods; then Hazel moved everyone to the living room, where she had a tarp laid out and several easels arranged in a circle around a still life display. “We’ll all paint the same thing from different angles and then compare how everyone’s turned out. Isn’t that fun?” she gushed.
Amy, for her part, had never been much of an artist, but she did enjoy the evening of quiet chatter and laughter with friends. When they’d each finished their paintings, Hazel led them back to the kitchen, where the table had been pushed back against the wall and a long banner stretched the entire width of the room.
“One more project before I let you go,” she cried, handing out watercolors and brushes. “I designed this one myself. It’s a paint by number. Ready?”
“Yes!” Olivia cried. The adults seemed less thrilled with the idea but played along since this was clearly important to Hazel.
Amy chose to focus on all the threes, painting each one a beautiful, robust shade of pink. Lately, three had become her favorite number. Not because of Bridget’s three crazy dogs, but rather the new family of three she’d begun to form with Olivia and Trent, and because of her three best friends who had been through so much together.
Slowly, the design before them began to take shape. It was mostly swirls and mandalas, but between the swashes and curlicues, Amy spied letters. She wasn’t sure whether she was the first to see but decided to keep quiet so as not to spoil the surprise for the others. Once she managed to read the full message, she knew she’d made the right decision. Amy smiled to herself as she continued painting her pink threes in silence.
That silence was rent apart, though, when Keith jumped up and pulled Hazel to her feet as well. “Are you serious?” he asked, circling his arms around her waist.
“More serious than I’ve ever been about anything in my whole life,” she answered.
The others watched them with wide eyes as Keith said, “Oh, heck, yeah,” and crushed his lips to Hazel’s.
“What’s going on?” Olivia asked Amy.
She grabbed the little girl’s hand and took a couple steps back, then pointed toward the message spelled out in the middle of their paint by number project: Will you marry me?
Trent stood, too, and placed an arm around each of his girls. A tiny thrill of delight raced straight through Amy when she realized this same beautiful thing could very well be in their future, too.
And she couldn’t wait for that day.
But, for now, she would enjoy whatever life brought next.
Chapter 50
School let out for the summer, and Amy volunteered to host that Sunday’s potluck get-together. She had something special she wanted to share with her friends.
When everyone arrived, she ushered them outside to her newly landscaped backyard. Trent and Olivia had helped her choose flowers, solar lights, and a beautiful patio set. She also had a brand-new firepit, which she planned to christen that night. Each of the friends sat with a dark piece of folded cloth in her lap as they waited for Amy to explain.
“Okay, Ames,” Hazel said, taking charge of the situation as usual. “Why’d you have us all bring our funeral dresses tonight?”
Amy stood and went to retrieve the lighter fluid from her grilling supplies. “Because,” she said, squirting a liberal dose into the pit. “We’re having our final funeral tonight.”
“Yeah, okay,” Nichole said with a sarcastic laugh.
“We had our last funeral months ago,” Hazel added. “I don’t get it.”
“I do,” Bridget mumbled, surprising them all. “It’s the after-funeral. A funeral for the funerals.”
“That’s right,” Amy said, handing her friend the box of extra-long matches. “Would you do the honors, B?”
Bridget struck a match and tossed it into the firepit. Despite all the starter fluid, it took three tries for the flames to roar to life. Everyone watched in silence as the fire reached higher and higher into the sky. The sun still shone bright and would for many more hours this close to the solstice, but Amy didn’t mind one bit. It would be easier to see what happened next with all the added light.
Amy rose again and took a step closer to the fire. She held her folded black dress, already ragged from wear. She’d worn it for three of the worst occasions in her life, but at the end of the day, it was just a dress. She could have worn it to weddings, parties, just a casual day about town. She was the one who had assigned it for funeral use, the one who had given it that wretched meaning.
Well, it would be a symbol again today.
She cleared her throat and locked eyes with each of her friends before she finally gathered the courage to speak. “We’re here tonight to remember, to honor, to celebrate, but above all else, to let go.” She tossed he
r dress into the center of the fire and watched as the orange-blue flames lapped it up in a hurry.
Once the ash lifted to the sky, she swallowed hard and spoke again. “My mom was an amazing lady, and I loved her with everything I had. She’s gone now, but I’m thankful for that last year we had together while I took care of her. It was hard for both of us, but also so, so important. I carry so many happy memories with me as I go forward and many sad ones, too. But life is what you make it, and I choose to honor her life by honoring the best parts, by remembering the good times, and forgiving the bad times. I choose to keep living as I know she would have lived. I say goodbye to grief, goodbye to focusing on what I lost, and hello to celebrating everything I gained over the years.”
Hazel stood next and dropped her funeral dress into the pyre. “My dad was the best person I’ve ever known. No offense, guys.” She laughed and swiped at the beginning of tears. “He made me everything I am, and his death has shaped me, too. He lost my mom young, but he never stopped carrying a torch for her. And before he went, he made sure I could continue his legacy of love. He helped me learn about the mom I never knew, and even helped steer me toward my fiancé. Life was hard for him as a single dad, but he made the best of it. He gave me the best possible childhood, and now one day I want to do the same for Keith and my kids when we have them. I miss him every single day, and I’m going to honor his memory by making sure my kids will know him like I knew him. That they’ll hear his story, that he’ll live on even after I’m gone. Gone, but never, ever forgotten.”
Nichole stumbled to her feet with a wry smile on her lips. “That’s a lot of talk about kids, Haze. Got an announcement to make?”
Hazel shot daggers at her, but Nichole just laughed it off as she bunched her dress into a ball and pitched it into the fire.
“My dad’s still here, and I have not taken a single day for granted. We weren’t super close before he got sick, but when the four of us formed a family, I learned how important connections are. It’s because of you guys that my dad and I have a relationship I’d never even dreamed possible. I don’t know why he survived when your parents didn’t, but I’m not going to feel guilty about it anymore. I love him. I love you, and I’m learning to love myself, too. Like you all said, I’m going to live my life as best I know how. No more apologies. Right, Ames?” She winked at Amy before taking her seat once more.
Everyone turned toward Bridget, who was now crying openly. She took a slow, shaky breath, then stood and approached the fire.
“Mom, I haven’t known how to live without you. So I thought if I just kept swimming, if I kept as busy as possible, I wouldn’t have the time to miss you. But that never worked, and instead it only hurt the people who love me. Even though I will always love and miss you, Mom, I’ve learned that I need to focus on the people who are still here, who love me.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “It’s so hard admitting I’ll never see you again. I remember you in everything. When I look in the mirror, I see your face. When I smile, it’s your smile. It’s so hard seeing you so close, seeing your eyes in my eyes and not being able to hug you, to tell you about my day, or that I still miss you like crazy. But as much as we look alike, I’m not you. I’m my own person, just like you raised me to be. I’m done running. I’m done hiding. Done pretending it doesn’t kill me a little inside every time I wake up in the morning and remember that you’re no longer part of the same world I am. You taught me to have faith, and because of that, I know we’ll see each other again someday in Heaven. But as long as I’m on earth, I need to live here. I need to own what I’m feeling. Feel it. Then let go. I need to keep going without you, even though sometimes that feels impossible. I know I can do it, because you showed me how. You never gave up even at the very end. I want to be like you, to carry on your legacy of joy, just like Hazel is carrying her father’s legacy of love. And I know I have the best friends in the world to help see me through.” She kissed her funeral dress and dropped it into the fire.
Everyone sat quietly for a few minutes as they finished saying their goodbyes. Then Amy clasped her hands together and stood before her friends. “All right, who’s ready for some food?”
Amy and Olivia’s Buckeyes
For the filling
1 eight-ounce package of cream cheese, softened or at room temperature
½ pound of butter, also softened or at room temperature
1½ cups smooth peanut butter
2 pounds powdered sugar
Combine the above into one smooth batter, then roll into balls roughly the size of bonbons. Set each an inch apart on a wax paper–lined baking sheet and refrigerate.
For the coating
⅔ of a four-ounce paraffin wax bar
2 twelve-ounce packages of bittersweet chocolate chips
Melt paraffin wax in a double boiler, then add the chocolate chips and melt until smooth.
Dip the balls into the hot coating mix and return to the tray.
Refrigerate for an hour.
Enjoy!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a village . . . to nurture and inspire a writer.
Many amazing people fill my days with love and encouragement. They keep me going through sickness, health, rich, poor—because there’s no doubt I’ve been married to my writing, going on ten years now.
As always, my husband, Falcon, is my biggest inspiration. He introduced me to real, true love by showing it to me when I was at my lowest point and without expecting anything in return. Of course, I fell madly in love, and now every romance I write includes a bit of our own real-life love story. He is also the one who introduced me to the beauty and wonder of Alaska, his home state and my heart state.
Our daughter, Phoenix, encourages me to dive deep into the tough questions, because I want to have good answers ready when she asks, which, inevitably, she will. It is because of her that I believe in happy endings and do my best to ensure everyone gets one, both inside my stories and out.
To Vida, Alicia, and GG, thank you for believing I had what it takes, for loving my stories, and finding them a wonderful new home.
To Angi, Becky, and Ron, you are there for me day in and day out, giving me the strength (and the flexibility in my schedule) to get the words written. Thank you!
To my family and to the readers who have been with me from the start, thank you for never giving up on me.
To my best doggie friend, Sky Princess, my other five dogs, and my long-suffering cat—good girl, good boy, good boy, good girl, good girl, good girl, and good boy!
To Mallory, who some also know as Melody, this one is for you.
Thank you, everyone, for being a part of my real life, for being a part of my fictional worlds, and for being your wonderful selves.
Spend more time with the Sunday Potluck Club!
Read on for a preview of Bridget’s story in
WEDNESDAY WALKS & WAGS.
Chapter 1
Bridget Moore hesitated over the last of her boxes, letting her fingertips hover less than an inch from the taped-up flaps. Might it be better to leave the offensive cardboard container sealed up tight and pushed into the back of her closet where she could forget about it all over again?
That was the thing about moving.
You packed up your life into a series of boxes and prayed they would fit in well where you were going next. Sometimes once-precious belongings needed to be tossed, donated, or passed on to a friend, and sometimes the things you most wished to part with clung to the edges of your life like pesky, persistent burs.
Bridget’s hands shook as she brought them closer to the box, then let them fall to her sides. She moved to the window that overlooked the courtyard and stared down at the yellow-green grass. Spring breakup had ended, and now the warm season was on its way in. The world around her became greener with each day. If her new apartment brochure could be trusted, soon the space would be filled with a cascade of beautiful blooms in almost every color of the rainbow.
She
watched as a man jogged through the space with two energetic huskies in tow. They picked up speed and soon zoomed out of view, but not soon enough. Her own dogs had noticed the neighbor dogs and were now barking in an off-key chorus. Rosco and Baby, the rottie and pit bull mix she’d rescued from the shelter a few months back, both had deep, menacing barks. Meanwhile, Teddy, her Pomeranian, had a high, grating bark that sounded at random intervals throughout the day.
Lucky she had found a complex that not only allowed dogs but celebrated them. The building even had an after-dinner walking club that allowed neighbors to get together and get to know one another, all while giving their apartment-bound canines the exercise they craved. Sure, the apartment came at a steep cost, but after being evicted from her last residence for illegally bringing pets into the building, she was not taking any chances.
Living here would be a blessing for both her and her canine family, but it did mean that she had to restrict her volunteer work at the shelter to one day per week, so that she could pick up more paid shifts at the veterinary office where she worked as a technician while finishing her own DVM degree on the side. She lived on the far southside of Anchorage, so far it was almost out of city bounds, so far that it now took fifteen minutes or more to drive to work and to each of her friends’ houses.
She knew that the added bit of distance wouldn’t change anything with her friends, not when they’d already been through so much together. They’d met more than a year ago at the hospital, of all places. Each was taking care of a parent undergoing chemotherapy. Bridget’s mother had been the first diagnosed, but the last to die. Her breast cancer had been in remission for years, so long that her family didn’t even think to worry about it anymore.
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