Page 221 of A Courage of the Chosen

“The goodbye we needed,” I finish in his place.

“Aye. Exactly that.”

It’s a part of my story to have loved so deeply that their loss has changed who I am, and I will always miss them. I’ll carry that with pride.

And when I’m sad or scared, or worried about the future, I’ll come back to this gift from the spirits. I’ll sink into the quiet days with my husband, the laughter with my family, and know that everything will be okay in the end, because I’ve got people who love me, and so many reasons to keep going.

That same understanding sits in Callahan’s chest, too, and as we walk the sightless path, the voices of lost family members ringing in our ears, one thing guides us home—this was more than a goodbye.

It was confirmation that no matter how bad things get, how hard it seems to take the next step, it’s always worth the fight.

When all I can see is darkness, I know I’ll find the light.

Epilogue

Elsie - Eighteen months later

Callahan lays the pink and white lilies against Mom’s grave, while I stare at the simple stone that bears both hers and Granny’s names.

Four years ago, they left to visit Central Park, and four years ago, my life changed forever. The last time I stood here, I was adrift, lost in how much I missed them both, and a grief that would never end. Returning now, with my husband by my side, seeing their etched names doesn’t fill me with the same ache it used to. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long, or how different I am now.

I still feel their loss. Still think of them both every day, but they’re happy and together in the afterlife. That knowledge is enough.

Callahan crouches down to brush away some of the old leaves that have fallen and gathered around the foot of the headstone. “There you go, Heather. All clean.”

The spring air is fresh, and the water feature in the middle of the pond is the base for a chorus of bird song in the oak tree that shades Mom’s final resting place.

“You know, this spot looks a little like the Lagan Naomh,” Callahan comments quietly.

I look at him, then scan our surroundings. “Huh, so it does.”

Grandpa was very insistent about where her remains would be housed, and it makes total sense why. He found a small piece of Elfayne in Brooklyn, and buried his daughter there.

A few months after the war, he returned to pack up the home he shared with Granny, and the place I was born and raised. He’d boxed up mine and Rach’s apartments, too, and left a few things in storage for me to claim when the time was right.

Apparently, he and Granny had built protocols for this a long time ago, so knew how to make sure that the life we left behind was there for us if we wanted to go back. Bank accounts with enough money to continually cover the bills for a few years, and a network of Seelie that could check on the property once in a while.

I was surprised at how well thought-out it was, and even more shocked to learn it extended to my apartment as well.

Those that fled with Granny into the human world knew it was safe to return to Elfayne if they wanted to, and some of them did. Others opted to remain in the homes they’d built over time.

When Grandpa told me he wanted to go back to Brooklyn and fetch some of the things he left, he’d asked if I wanted to go with him, but there was still so much to be done after the war. I was in the midst of planning a tour around my kingdom, and working out how to accurately rewrite the forgotten history of the first war with the Dorche.

That lasted four months. Erin came with us, and on the road back to Elfayne City, after we’d visited almost every town and village, we asked her how she would feel about Callahan and I adopting her.

She cried. Big, fat tears that made both Callahan and I sob alongside her, and now Erin is our daughter and tells us she loves us every single day.

It took a while to feel like everything was settled enough for me to suggest this trip to Callahan. His curiosity about my former life was ever-growing, so we decided to take a well overdue honeymoon.

Grandpa knew a guy that could sort us with some passports since Callahan didn’t have one, and mine was in storage. I didn’t ask questions about how he knew someone to provide us with counterfeit documents that would allow us to travel from Scotland to Brooklyn, but was grateful there had been a way to show Callahan glimpses of my past, and his twin’s as well.

We travelled around Scotland like I’d always wanted, exploring the highlands that felt a lot like home. Then we ventured down to London for a couple of days, and flew out to New York. From there, where we’ve spent the last two weeks visiting all the places I used to go, and discovering new ones that belong to the two of us now.

Cal has decided to bring a few things of Rachel’s back with him. Turns out Rach had kept the occasional journal, and he spent a long time tracing his fingers over the words of the adventures she had during her time in this world. There was a photo of me and her in college that he now takes everywhere in his pocket. We talk about her and Brodie nearly every day, and while we yearn for one more conversation, one more dinner with them, the goodbye we were gifted by the spirits helped us on that journey.

Especially Callahan. It eased something in him to have that.

For the last couple of weeks, we’ve been able to set aside our past, and our titles, and be a regular couple in love. It’s been eye-opening for both of us. Callahan does not care for flying, and spent the entire plane ride white knuckling the armrests when he was seated. Netflix, however, was a revelation to him, and the first time he tried to work a phone was downright comical.