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“No, not so bad,” he says, his lips turning down thoughtfully as he adds in a dramatic whisper, “but not so great either. Sort of like falling down a flight of stairs into a pool of quicksand. Manageable, but not something you want to do every day.”
I put on a serious face. “Doesn’t sound like it. I suppose I’ll stick it out here, then. At least a little longer.”
He nods, too. “Probably a good idea. Though…you might get lonely.”
“I might,” I agree. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good friend to talk to. Children and plantings are lovely, but not quite the same.”
He sobers and his gray, storm cloud eyes soften. “You had children, then?”
“Five girls,” I whisper, my heart filling at the thought of them. “But they’re off now most of the time, finding their own way.”
“My sons and daughter are the same,” he says fondly. “And their babies, too. It was a wonderful life.” He reaches out, curling his fingers around mine, making my soul light up the way only his touch ever has. “But a part of me was always here. With you.”
“I could feel it.” I fight to keep my voice steady even though emotion winds like a vine around my throat. “I suppose it only makes sense that the rest of you would arrive sooner or later.” I swallow. “But it’s been…a long time.”
He smiles, the movement sending a tear sliding down his face. “Yes, it has. So, open the gate, and let’s have a proper visit.” My lips part to warn him that he won’t be able to leave, either, once he enters—none but the plantings are free to come and go—but he cuts me off with a gentle, “I know. I’ve got nowhere to go and nothing but time, Clara. It would be an honor to spend some of it with you.”
Too full to speak, I draw open the gates.
Declan steps through, shutting them firmly behind him before he turns and draws me into his arms. And they are strong and steady and…home, just like I remembered. I rest my cheek on his chest, and he presses his lips to my forehead.
Which is the way we stay for a very, very long time.
Just a hair short of forever.
The End
