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After Thanksgiving, Maisy and I decorated our great room at the inn with garland and mistletoe. Darby had cut down a giant noble fir, and we asked our friends to come out for an afternoon of cookies and cider to help us decorate. We wanted everything to be perfect. Stormi and Huck, desiring an intimate wedding with just close family and friends, had asked if they could use the inn for the reception. I was thrilled, of course. I’d hired caterers to prepare a feast for after the ceremony and spent a whole afternoon arranging and setting the tables for the after-ceremony dinner.
I’d thought of Annabelle and Bromley as I placed an angel at the top of the giant tree. How strange and unexpected life could be at times. Annabelle could not have foreseen the twists her life would take. She had only faith and a deep commitment to honoring her vows, even when that bond had been tested by her attraction for another. Did doing the right thing bring eventual joy? I liked to think so. At least in her place, it had. She’d been a good wife to Clive until his dying day and had given herself the chance to grieve. What waited on the other side of that sadness was a union better than she could have imagined.
We’d learned through Mr. Barnes’s research that Bromley had indeed come to Emerson Pass as Annabelle’s new husband. Mr. Barnes had stopped by one day shortly after Thanksgiving with a letter he’d found in one of his archives that told us the end of the story. “This explains the rest of it,” he’d said to me as he handed me the letter.
Dearest Quinn,
I am sorry it’s taken me such a long time to write a proper letter. I’m glad to know you received the letter I sent telling you of my safe arrival in Florida. Thank you for writing back with news of home. I’ve been busy and preoccupied since then but have retired to my room early so that I might write to you. I’m sitting at the desk in my room at the Huntings’.
Bromley was waiting for me at the station, looking dapper and more handsome than I remembered. Fine lines around his mouth and eyes in addition to several silver strands in his mop of blond hair hinted at the eight years since our last meeting. I am sure he sees the same in me. But it was the same between us, except now we were free to allow ourselves to fall in love. The years had not been kind to his heart, he said to me that first night as we dined on oysters and drank cold white wine as the surf ebbed and flowed. He’d left part of his heart in Florida. All these years, he’d remained unattached. “No one was you,” he said.
When he learned of Clive’s death, he’d thought and thought about whether to write to me. A few months later, he finally made up his mind. He didn’t think I would write back to him and most certainly didn’t think I’d agree to come to Florida. I told him I didn’t think I would either.
What can I tell you about him? He’s a good man. An honorable one. A man who understands my artistic disposition and my ambition. But, dear sister, there’s something hard to describe about what it is exactly between two people. What is this thing that makes it hard to breathe if the other is not near? This desire to be with them, to hang on their every word? I’ve decided, after all this time and through the curves in the road of my life, that love is mysterious and almost unexplainable to anyone other than the one who loves. He is the man for me. How long will I have him? I can’t know. I thought Clive would outlive me. With his sturdy, strong body, I thought he would live forever. But it was not to be. Instead, one part of my life ended and another began. I suppose that’s all we can hope for. To be able to adapt to the changes that come in this unpredictable life and have faith that after grief, love can come to us again.
Clive’s life might have been shorter than I’d have liked, but the years he spent on this earth were joyful ones. We had such a lot of good days, small moments that gave us both joy. And now I believe he’s somewhere giving me his blessing.
I never told you this, but years after I came home from Florida, I told Clive about Bromley. I’d told him how I’d felt a deep pulling toward him but that I’d not acted upon it. Clive understood and had instantly forgiven me. “What’s to forgive, since you walked away anyway, dearest?” Clive said. “I cannot expect that in a long life of loving each other that there won’t be times we’re tempted. What matters is the choice we make. You chose to come back to me.”
“Have you ever been tempted?” I asked.
“Not in the way you were. But I admired your sister a great deal before she chose Alexander.”
I’d smacked him then and wiped away tears. “My sister. That’s much worse.”
We’d laughed together, and then he’d kissed me and taken me to bed. With the confession, I’d let go of Bromley and the white sand and blue sea. It turns out that was better than burying a box. I’ll have to tell you about that some other time.
Now I have returned to the sea and my lovely Bromley. The days are long here. We spend them exploring the beach and riding horses in the surf. I’ve learned how to play tennis, if you can imagine. Bromley’s family has embraced me and offered me a room in the house for as long as I wish to stay. Last night, as we sat on the patio enjoying our dinner, he proposed to me. I wanted to say yes immediately but there was something I had to ask first. Would he be willing to spend at least half the year in Emerson Pass?
He’d agreed, saying we could spend all our days there if I wished. However, Florida is part of me now too. In fact, it’s inspired a whole new line of wedding dresses made for warmer climates. No one wants a bride to melt as she walks down the aisle with her father.
We’ve decided to elope to save the trouble of a wedding, since we’re both older and married before. We shall do so and have a party when we return as man and wife.
I cannot wait for you to meet him. I know you will love him eventually, even if you still hold Clive near your heart. It is indeed possible to love two men at once. How it all sorts out in heaven, I cannot say.
Thank you, my dearest, for all you did for me when I was young. The sacrifices you made were always clear to me, even back then. I can still remember the day Mother and I sent you off on that train. We wept, scared we might never see you again after sending you to the wild country of Colorado. How wrong we were to weep. We were scared only of the unknown. If we’d known that your true love waited there for you and how much those precious children who had lost their mother needed you, we would have dried our tears and gotten on with things. I shall never forget your generosity or bravery. I hope someday to look back on my own life and say that I was brave. Flawed, yes. But courageous just the same.
I shall close now. Bromley is waiting for me on the beach so that we might stroll along the edge of the water and smell the briny air and speak of the future. The one we will make together. God willing.
I’ll be home with my new groom by Christmas. Please set a new place at the family table.
Much love,
Annabelle
She’d had her happy ending, twice it would seem. It had me thinking about the death of those we love and the avalanche of grief they leave behind. For his part, Darby had been able to move through his shock and grief from his father’s death. “Ultimately, I have to let go,” he’d said to me one night. “But it’s particularly hard when the people we’re supposed to love let us down so terribly by the way they lived. When they go, it’s hard to know how we’re supposed to feel.”
I’d nodded and held him close—that night and many afterward. Until one day, he woke with a new resolve to move forward. His father had not been a good person. He’d accepted it and decided that no longer would he let the past dictate the future. Yet sometimes, I caught a moment of grief that passed over him when he thought I wasn’t watching. I hoped they would not come forever, but perhaps they would. Regardless, I was impressed that he allowed himself to mourn what had been and what would never be.
It was the same for me too, I suppose. Darby’s love for me, and mine for him, had changed the hardness I’d carried around for so long. Strangely enough, the more committed I felt to him, the freer I became. He had become my family and me his.
My brother Trey had agreed to come out and help design the interiors of Darby’s new cottage. He’d come with my sister-in-law, Autumn, and my two adorable baby nieces for Thanksgiving and a two-week stay afterward. They’d surprised me by bringing our mother as well. Although business had increased with the snowfall, I had enough rooms for them at the inn. My mother had insisted on paying. To my delight, she told me that her divorce with Dad was final and that she’d come out very well. She would not need to work for the rest of her life. However, she’d decided she wanted to work and had taken an administrative position at my brother’s firm. “I’m the mother hen of the office,” she’d said. “And I love it.”
My brother created our design plan for no cost, asking only if we would babysit so he and his bride could enjoy some time alone. Darby, loving children, had readily agreed. Somehow in those short weeks together, my mother and Autumn had fallen for Darby almost as hard as I. My brother, although more reserved in his affection, admitted to me how much he liked him. “You’re like Autumn and me. Together you make the other stronger and better. He’s helped heal you and vice versa, am I right?”
“You’re right.” For some reason, that made me cry.
Instead of the wedding of Arianna and Rob that we’d anticipated, we had had Huck and Stormi’s to help plan and attend. Desiring a small, intimate wedding of just close family and friends, the happy couple had asked if they could get married at the inn. I’d excitedly agreed. “A Christmas wedding,” I’d said to Darby. “Totally exciting.”
