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“If I leave, I’ll always come back.”
“Unless I’m with you already. Then it won’t be necessary.”
“Following me around?”
“Like a lovesick puppy,” I said. “Me and Scout. We were without you for only an afternoon, and we totally fell apart.”
“We’ll stay close together,” Annie said. “Then you’ll both be fine.”
As if she knew we were talking about her, Scout lifted her head from where she’d been resting by the fire, calm and content now that our girl was home. She barked and wagged her tail.
“A family?” Annie asked. “You and me and Scout.”
“That's right.”
“Now, you must tell me what in the world Slurfpig is.”
I laughed. “I’d be happy to, but it’s probably better coming from Pop. He explains it best.”
“You have good brothers,” Annie said. “Even though I’veprobably scarred them for life with my sobbing when they were trapped with me in the car.”
“They were raised my Mama and Pop. A little emotion doesn’t scare them.”
“I hope not because I was a mess,” Annie said. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Met or not, I’m yours. For the rest of my life.” I pulled her into my arms. “Please don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t. I’m yours.”
Scout barked, making sure we knew she was in too.
19
ANNIE
The rest of the month flew by, with sleigh rides, hikes with Scout and even an afternoon learning how to fly fish, taught by my beloved. Stella and I spent several mornings going through old photographs of her and my mother. Strangely enough, looking at pictures of my mother and father before the tragedy healed parts of me I thought would never feel normal again.
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, we'd made plans for the new year, including signing a lease for a rental in LA that would allow dogs. Celeste had managed to find us a rental near the beach, which we were both excited to share with Scout.
Stella and Jasper had asked if we could attend church as a family. Bundled up, we'd all ventured out to hear the story of Jesus's birth, told by the children of the congregation.
As I’d sat there in the second pew of the small church I'd attended as a child, thoughts veered to having children of my own. Would Atticus and I someday sit here watching a son or daughter in the roll of the shining star? Or would she be more the Mary type? Maybe he'd be shy like Atticus and refuse to be in the play at all.
Only time would answer these questions. For now, I would enjoy every moment with Atticus and his family.
After church, we’d all headed to Stella's for a roast beef dinner. Everything had been delicious and after cleaning up and dishing out servings of apple pie and ice cream, we gathered in the living room.
A fire warmed the room and also cast a lovely glow. Stella's tree had been decorated with ornaments of years past, including adorable ones of the boys in various stages.
As I settled near the fire, I picked up a homemade ornament that had fallen from the tree. It was in the shape of a tree, with Atticus's photo pasted onto the front. On the back, he’d written his name and the year. But I didn’t need the date to know what year it was made. I’d been by his side in Mrs. Daniel’s first grade class, creating one for my mother. My dad had kept all the things I'd ever made, and I'm sure it hung proudly on his tree today. A testament to his devotion.
“So cute,” I said under my breath. Atticus had zero front teeth in the photo, but it did nothing to diminish his electric grin. His thick hair stuck up slightly on one side.
"Can I have everyone's attention, please.” Atticus clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. The rest of the family had trickled in and were sprawled around the room.
Everyone quieted and turned toward him. He drew a small box from his jeans pocket.
A box. A small one. The right size for a ring.
