“Mom,” Charlotte said, “didn’t you throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain?”
“I saw that movie,” Roxanne said, “Three Coins in the Fountain. If you throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, you will return to Rome. If you throw two . . .” She stopped. “I don’t remember.”
“You will find love,” Matthew said. He looked at me. “How many coins did you throw, Beth?”
“Two.”
“And did you get your wish?”
My eyes welled up with tears and I looked at Kevin. “I got both of them.” I put the tickets back in the envelope. “Thank you.”
“You’re so romantic, Dad,” Charlotte said. “Just like Matthew.”
“Well,” he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “did anyone happen to notice the date on those tickets?”
He looked at me and I shook my head.
“We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. We’re spending New Year’s Eve in the Piazza del Popolo.” He turned to Charlotte and Matthew. “And by ‘we’ I mean the four of us. We need to go before our baby girl gets too far along with her own baby.”
Charlotte screamed. “Really?!” She got up and walked around the table to Kevin and hugged him. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He beamed with joy. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Kevin,” Matthew said. “That’s very generous.”
“Well, I thought it might be a nice getaway while it’s still just the four of us. Kind of a last hurrah of the empty nesters. And besides,” he said, winking, “this way I don’t have to hire an interpreter.”
“Thank you, darling,” I said to Kevin. “It’s a wonderful surprise.”
He raised a glass. “A toast. To family.”
“To family,” I said. “And that includes you, Rox.”
“Darn right,” she said. “So how ’bout it, Kev? You springing for us too?”
“Next time,” he said.
“The story of my life.” She raised her glass. “To family.”
“To family,” Matthew said.
I took a drink of wine, then slowly panned the room. It was perfect. There was so much joy and warmth. There was so much to be grateful for. Everyone was so happy. Everything was perfect.
When the excitement had died a little, I said, “Matthew, why don’t you come with me and I’ll get you some Tylenol.”
He set his napkin on the table. “Thank you. I’ll be right back,” he said to Charlotte.
I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. When Matthew walked into the upstairs hallway, I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my room and shut the door behind us.
“Beth,” he said.
I threw my arms around him. “It’s been so long.”
“It’s like it was just this afternoon,” Matthew said.
I stepped back. “It’s been eighteen years. I look old, don’t I?”
He shook his head. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
I smiled sadly. “You have no idea what it’s been like holding this secret with no one to share it with.” I squeezed his hand. “Mamma mia, the day Charlotte brought you home for the first time and pretending that we’d never met”—I brushed a tear from my cheek—“then waiting for Charlotte to get sick . . .”
“Charlotte doesn’t have cancer,” he said, as much a question as a statement.
“No, she doesn’t. You came back to save me and you saved her too. You saved all of us.”
“How long have you been married to Kevin?”
“Thirteen years.”
“Do you love him?”
“With all my heart. He’s a wonderful man. And I have you to thank for him.”
“Me?”
“After Marc, I didn’t think I could ever trust a man again. You gave me the courage to trust. You gave me hope that there were men out there like you.”
He put his hand on my cheek and I reached up and put my hand on his. “So what do we do now?” he asked.
A broad smile crossed my face. “We live. You have Charlotte back. I have Kevin. We’ve been blessed.”
“And us?”
I shook my head and smiled. “I’m grateful that my daughter has a man like you. Two of my favorite people in the world have each other. What more could a mother want?”
“Is that what you want?”
My eyes filled with tears. “I’ll always love you. Do you know that?”
He nodded. “And I’ll always love you.”
“And we’ll always have 1990.”
He smiled. “The year Milli Vanilli fell.”
I started laughing. “You were right about that.”
“You think I would make that up?”
We both laughed. Then he said, “Merry Christmas, Beth.”
“Merry Christmas.” I just gazed into his eyes for a moment, then said, “We better get back to the party.”
He nodded, turned to go, then stopped. “May I hold you just once more?”
I looked at him for a moment, then smiled. “I’d like that.”
He stepped into me and put his arms around me. My heart was full. Not with sadness or regret, nor passion or desire, but with love—gratitude and love. Maybe they’re the same things. And while he held me, I was twenty-eight again. I’m certain of it. Eighteen years wasn’t too long to wait for such a moment.
A SPECIAL OFFER FOR RICHARD PAUL EVANS’ READERS
In Promise Me, Beth Cardall talks about some of her favorite foods, such as:
• Christmas Day Blueberry-Buttermilk Muffins
• Worth-getting-sick-for Chicken Noodle Soup
• Not-yet-famous (but-still-good) Chicken Salad Pita
• Moonlight Chocolate Cake
• Richard Paul Evans’ Famous Chinese Fried Rice
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www.richardpaulevans.com
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RICHARD PAUL EVANS is the #1 bestselling author of The Christmas Box. His novels have each appeared on the New York Times bestseller list; there are more than 14 million copies of his books in print. His books have been translated into more than twenty-five languages and several have been international bestsellers. He has won two first-place Storytelling World Awards for his children’s books and the Romantic Times Best Women’s Novel award. Evans received the Washington Times Humanitarian of the Century Award and the Volunteers of America National Empathy Award for his work helping abused children. Evans lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, with his wife, Keri, and their five children.
p; Richard Paul Evans, Promise Me
Promise Me Page 18
