CHAPTER 41
WALTON, GEORGIA
DECEMBER 2019
I shivered in my coat while walking through a scattering of what looked alarmingly like snowflakes falling on the sleeping lawns and houses of Walton as I headed to my aunt’s house. I passed the Harriet Madison Warner Memorial Park and the cemetery where my mother slept under pots of plastic poinsettias. Past blow-up snowmen and Santas with reindeer and sleighs that sprouted in yards like mutant trees, the brilliant displays of twinkling lights on every porch, roof, and railing a fitting backdrop to the festive statuary. A few creative people had even placed their Santa on top of the roof with the twinkling lights, adding something unique to the general festive air.
The lampposts all wore red velvet bows, and several of the minivans parked in driveways sported red Rudolph noses and antlers, as did at least one mailbox. Although I was not a fan of Christmas, seeing it all in the quiet of the night made me nostalgic for the Christmases of my childhood.
As she promised, Cassie had put Colin in the guest room at the back of the house. A trellis conveniently led up to the window, as I’d discovered as a younger version of myself. I took off my gloves for a better grip, and after pulling to make sure the trellis could still support me, I began to climb. The windows were never locked, so I wasn’t surprised when the window opened easily a few inches before I had to wrestle it the rest of the way up. I climbed through the window, then closed it behind me.
I faced the bed, taking off my coat and shoes to buy me a few moments of courage. The eerie light of an impending snowfall illuminated the four posts of the bed and the rise of the bedclothes where Colin slept. Except, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that he wasn’t lying down but sitting up. Probably awakened by the noise I’d made wrenching the window up. I imagined Aunt Cassie hadn’t used the WD-40 on the sash for just that reason.
“Colin? Are you awake?”
“I am now.”
“Good. Because I’ve come to a decision about Precious’s story. I’m going to tell the whole story—starting with Ethel Maltby and using the clothes as the backdrop to an incredibly powerful life. I want to show how Precious lived every minute, all the good parts and the bad parts—it’s still her wonderful life in all of its shades and colors, decorated with glorious clothes and accessories. That’s how she’d want me to tell it. It might be an article, or I might want to make it bigger. Like a biography—I haven’t decided. But I’ve come up with a title: Reinvention: A Story of Friendship, Love, and Courage.”
“I approve.” He paused. “Is that why you climbed up to my window in the middle of the night?”
“No. I need to ask you something.”
“All right.”
“Remember before, in London, when we were looking at Precious’s photos and you made me drink Scotch . . . ?”
“I didn’t make you, Maddie. You drank of your own free will, as I recall.”
“Yes, well, that night you told me something, and I just need to verify that I heard you correctly before I make any more decisions.”
He was completely silent, and I was glad I couldn’t see his expression. “Go on.”
I swallowed, trying not to shiver. “Did you mean it when you said that I should allow those who love me to decide what they can and cannot endure?”
“Yes. I did.”
“But how much can you endure?”
“All of it, Maddie. All of whatever life has in store. I’m not saying this blindly. I’ve been talking with a doctor friend of mine. I know that you have an eighty-seven percent risk of developing breast cancer in your lifetime. It took me five seconds to realize that it didn’t matter to me. As long as we’re together, we can face anything.”
I took a deep breath, feeling overheated despite the chilly room. “Don’t speak so quickly. There’s more.” I took a deep breath. “I had both breasts removed when I was eighteen. Aunt Cassie shares the gene, too, so we had our surgeries at the same time. None of my siblings have it—just me. I’ve had reconstructive surgery, but if you look closely, you can still see scars under my breasts. It’s ironic, actually. The genetic testing is why Knoxie decided to do our ancestry chart. That’s how we found Precious.”
He sat up and moved nearer to the side of the bed, either to run or to get closer. Either way, it scared me. I hated uncertainty. That was why I always made a habit of ignoring it.
I felt his eyes on me in the dark as he spoke. “I also learned that removing the breasts decreases your chances but doesn’t eliminate your risk entirely. That didn’t change my mind, either.”
I leaned toward him, his words damaging my resolve. I stepped back, took another deep breath, wanting to get this over with so I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore what Colin would do. I already had a bad track record of coming clean. “Because of the genetic mutations, I’m also at high risk for ovarian cancer. My doctor makes me have blood tests regularly. My last test showed slightly elevated inflammatory markers. She wants to test me again. If those tests also show elevated markers, she’ll order scans and look for signs of a tumor. My appointment is next week. If the test results aren’t good, she’ll recommend having my ovaries removed.”
I swallowed, then pressed on. “I could never have children.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “It’s why my fiancé broke our engagement. Not just because he wanted children, but because he’d seen me go through my mother’s illness and didn’t think he was strong enough to see it happen to me. Because no matter what parts I get removed from my body, no surgery makes me cancer-proof.”
I held my breath, waiting for him to speak.
“There are so many ways to bring children into a family, Maddie. Whether they’re biological children or not, don’t you think we’d love them just as much? And it’s not your breasts I’m in love with. If you’re trying to scare me off with any of that, it’s not working.”
“You’re saying that now. But you might think differently in five years. Or less. You could change your mind about what you’re willing to endure.”
He calmly drew in a breath. Exhaled. “I could. But I won’t. It’s not who I am. I respect that your lifelong beliefs aren’t going to change overnight, and that I can’t win your trust with just a few words. But I love you, and I’m willing to be on this journey with you now whether you believe me or not. I will simply be content to have you in my life and to hope that in time you will accept that I have no intention of ever leaving you, no matter what happens.”
I swallowed back the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat. He was right. I wasn’t ready. But I wanted to rewrite the end of my story, and Colin was offering to help me find the courage to try. I moved closer to the bed, feeling as if unseen hands were pushing me. “It could take a long time for me to believe you, you know.”
“I expect it will.”
“What if I get sick?”
“What if you don’t? What if I do? We don’t know what our future holds. The only thing I do know is that I would never leave your side. Nor would your family. Or mine. We would endure together. And whether we have a short time or a long time, I wouldn’t waste a single minute.”
He stood, pulled me against him. His chest was bare, and when I placed my hands on his skin, I felt the gooseflesh ripple under my fingers.
“Maddie?”
I looked up at him in the pale blue light. “Yes?”
“It’s snowing.”
I followed his gaze out the window. Fat white flakes tumbled past the glass, almost too thick to see the dark sky beyond. I sighed. “Snow in Walton. I guess miracles do happen.”
Colin turned my face to his. “Yes, Maddie. I suppose they do.” He kissed me, his lips warm and serious, as if sealing a promise. I kissed him back, propelling us toward the bed, managing to undo drawstring ties and unburden ourselves of clothing.
I tugged my sweatshirt over my head so that we were skin to skin as we fell together on the rumpled sheets, still warm from his body. His fingers rested on the gold heart charm that I hadn’t removed since the day of my high school graduation.
He held it between his fingers. “What’s this?”
“Suzanne gave it to me. It says, ‘A life without rain is like the sun without shade.’”
He was silent for a moment, watching my face. “So very true,” he said softly, and I wondered if he was thinking about his brother and all that had passed since, every good and bad thing that made up a life.
“It’s taken me a while, but I think I’m beginning to understand what it really means. Precious taught me that.”
He leaned down and kissed the spot between my breasts where the charm had lain, as if sealing yet another promise between us.
I looked up at him in the dim room, wishing he could see my eyes and all the silent truths they held. But it didn’t matter. I’d have time to tell him. To show him. I put my arms around his neck, pulled him closer. “I love you, you know.”
“I know.”
I bit my lower lip. “But I really hate snow.”
“Well, then, let’s create new, happy memories so you’ll learn to love it.” And he lowered his lips to mine and we proceeded to do just that.
We must have fallen asleep at some point; the brightening light from the window woke me at dawn. Colin’s body was melded against mine, our heads sharing a single pillow. I lay absolutely still, listening to his breathing, wishing I could jar this moment and preserve it forever. Yet I was fairly certain that Colin would ensure that there would be enough jars to fill an entire basement.
A sound of movement somewhere in the house brought me bolt upright, Colin sitting up along with me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes as bleary as mine felt.
“My aunt and uncle can’t find me in here.” I looked outside the window at the tall pine tree, which I didn’t remember being so tall when I’d last stayed in this room. Fat dollops of snow covered the branches, as if someone had emptied cans of whipping cream on them. I scrambled from the bed. “Suzy and Sam Junior will be up early and wanting to play in the snow. I’ve got to go—or at least walk around to the front of the house and use the front door.”
I ran around, gathering clothes, attempting to put them on right side out.
Colin sat on the bed, looking at me with a satisfied grin on his face.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, hopping on one foot as I attempted to put my sweatpants back on.
“From what I know of your aunt Cassie, she knows you’re here and has already set a place for you at the table and started making your breakfast.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about—it’s my uncle Sam.”
He sobered quickly. “Does he own a shotgun?”
“Is a frog’s butt watertight?”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry. I meant, of course he does, and so does my daddy,” I said, hopping on the other foot. “They’re from Georgia.”
He slid out of the bed and joined me in a wild scramble for clothes, pausing long enough to kiss me. “They wouldn’t really use a gun in a situation like this, would they? You are of age. And they both seemed rather civilized.”
“Of course they wouldn’t, but that’s not the point. My mama raised me better, and we all choose to respect that.”
“Understandable,” he said, slipping on a pair of pants.
As I was buttoning my coat, I eyed the window.
“No, Maddie,” Colin said, taking my hand and bringing me to the bedroom door. “You’re not climbing out of an upstairs window and down a snowy trellis. I’m not ready to go completely gray yet.”
“Fine. But put your feet exactly where I put mine so you don’t make the stairs creak.”
“You sound like an expert at sneaking out of houses.”
“That’s because I am.” I smiled to myself, remembering all the pranks and stunts I’d pulled as a teenager while supposedly tucked into bed.
We somehow made it out the front door without making too much noise, although I would have bet money that Cassie and Sam were standing behind their bedroom door, waiting for us to pass so they could go down and get breakfast started.
Outside, the world lay cold and white around us, the large magnolia in the front yard now wearing a glossy crown of snow. No footprints marred the pristine whiteness, like a blank page waiting to be written on. The borders between sidewalk and drive and lawn no longer existed, the snow offering paths waiting to be discovered.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Let me show you the gazebo. And then we can come in the front door and pretend that you met me outside in the snow.”
Despite not having the right snow wear, we barely seemed to feel the cold as we trudged to the backyard. The gazebo slept under a blanket of snow that had erased the steps, but only a dusting lay inside on the benches. Colin surprised me by scooping me up and carrying me over the steps, then joining me.
“Your nose is all red,” he said, and kissed it.
“So is yours,” I said, laughing. “I’m beginning to understand what you said about making happy memories of snow. I’m not hating it quite so much right now.”
“Then I suppose we’ll just need to practice more.”
I turned around in his arms, looking past the snowcapped railing and the acres of white to the forest that bordered the rear of the property. “About ten years ago, someone wanted to tear down the woods and build a neighborhood there, but my daddy saved it. I’m glad. It’s part of Walton and this house, and I can’t imagine one without the other.”
“I can see why. Do you remember what you told me once? Something your aunt said about home.”
I smiled, surprised that he’d remembered. “Home is a place that lives in one’s heart, waiting with open arms to be rediscovered.” I shrugged. “I couldn’t wait to leave, and I can’t imagine myself living here again, but it’s nice to know that it’s here to come back to. You said that once, when we were at Hovenden Hall. You said it’s where all your childhood memories lived, good and bad.”
The sun struggled to peer through the clouds as the wind picked up, blowing tufts of snow off the roof of the gazebo. He kissed the back of my head. “Do you like the beach?”
“I love the beach. Before Mama got sick, we’d take family vacations down to the Florida Panhandle every summer. It’s my happy place.”
“Good,” he said, turning me around so that we faced each other. “Because I’ve bought a bit of property in Bournemouth. It’s not far from London, so a nice place to escape the city from time to time. I’d like to build the house Eva and Graham dreamed about.”
The heat of unshed tears brushed my eyes. “That would be . . . remarkable.”
I could almost hear Precious agreeing that such a thing would be a fitting monument for a formidable woman. “She would love that. And so would Graham.”
I thought of Precious, who’d taught me so much. Grief is like a ghost. She’d been right about that. But she’d learned to live with her ghosts, bringing them with her in each of her incarnations like trophies showing where she’d been. What she’d overcome. What she’d loved and lost. But also what she’d survived.
Colin’s eyes held a strange light, and I wondered if it was simply the winter sky and the reflection of snow. “I thought Nana would like to have her story end there.”
We kissed again as another gust of wind blew the powdery snow along the surface of the lawn, sparkling in the weak sun like lightning bugs. Then he took my hand and led me back to the house, where Suzy and Sam Junior were leaping off the front porch and shouting as only children playing in a rare snow could.
“We’ll come back in summer so you can catch lightning bugs. I’ll have Aunt Cassie make you your own jar with your name on it.”
“I can’t wait,” he said, even sounding like he meant it.
The front door opened, and Cassie appeared with two mugs. “Hurry up and get out of your wet things, you two. Your breakfast is getting cold. I’ve made hot cocoa to warm your hands.”
I shared a glance with Colin as we both smiled at our private joke. We left our wet shoes and dripping coats on the porch, then followed Cassie inside the house.
Home is a place that lives in one’s heart, waiting with open arms to be rediscovered.
I hurried after my aunt, eager to share something I wanted to add.
And sometimes home is where one finds it, in the heart of another person who will always believe you are worthy of love.
I turned to see Colin, his eyes serious, as if he’d heard me say the words out loud. As if he, too, was remembering a formidable woman who’d shown us how bravery and reinvention could open up a life and enrich it with possibilities.
He smiled as he followed me into the foyer, closing the door of the old house behind him.