Chapter 59Rayne

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age Lucas Howard, Jr.—AKA Luke, Lukey, or Luke-man depending on who’s holding him at the time. It’s hard to believe he’s two months old, so wiggly and handsome. I sit on Daddy’s couch, holding him and watching Gage pack up the Scout. Today’s the day we officially start our life together. Today’s the day we go home to Edisto.

It’s impossible to believe the things that’ve happened over these months, but I’ve lived them, so I know them to be the gospel truth. After I revealed everything to Gage and after he had to sit down a minute to absorb my words, I knew we’d be okay when he rushed headlong from the chair and smashed his lips into mine once again, taking time out only to kiss Luke on the head. We’re both thankful for forgiveness and love that kicks your ass and puts you back together even when you screw it all up.

Charlotte’s in prison, where she belongs, and she’ll be there for a long time if the lawyers have anything to say about it, which pleases Jackson who, for the first time in his life, is happy and carefree. It’s never so evident as when he’s playing with Luke.

Daddy’s still working hard, traveling often, but must be trying for “Grandpa of the Year” because he never comes home from a business trip without some kind of souvenir for the baby. Preston’s started spring semester but is going on to Clemson in the fall. It’s done my heart good to see him and Gage repairing their relationship, back to the way it used to be.

Four-and-a-half hours later, the sand and gravel crunches under our tires as we pull in the drive, our home’s exterior completely redone in marine blue and white, a total departure from its original worn gray. The pictures Gage had shown me from his phone didn’t do the place justice.

“Wow.” I scoot close to the dashboard and look up at it.

“There’s still a lot to be done, but we’ll get there.” He jumps out and comes around to my door, helping me out, then reaches in the back and retrieves a sleeping Luke from his car seat. “Come on,” he nods toward the stairs and I follow behind. The hand rails have been sanded smooth and painted a crisp white and there are, like, twenty steps to take us to the main living level. The stairs open into a wraparound porch. There’s a swing at the end, overlooking the Atlantic.

“You know I like this,” I laugh, sitting down and giving a little push with my legs.

“It’s the very first thing I did. For you. It’s where I slept that first night back here after I found out about you and Preston.” He rubs the wooden swing arm, a grimace on his face as he remembers. “Rough night.”

I stand up, grab his chin and pull him down to me. “Let’s never be that stupid again,” I say and then kiss him hard.

“I won’t if you won’t,” he whispers. “Let’s get Luke down, and I’ll show you the place.”

“Get him down? We don’t even have his bed set up yet.”

“You doubt me, woman?” Gage laughs and leads me through the front door. We walk room to room, each spacious and beachy, though dated. The house needs serious TLC, except for two rooms in the back that look professionally renovated.

“Luke’s gift from his Nana Harrington.” He smiles and sweeps his hand around the room. It’s beautifully decorated in pale blues and neutrals with matching furniture and fully equipped with wipes and diapers and a large oak rocker in the corner. In the center of the room is a hand-carved wooden bassinet with ivory bedding. Gage runs his hand along the edge. “This one’s a family heirloom. My mom slept here.” He lowers Luke onto the tiny mattress. The baby sputters a little, readjusts his fingers, but never opens his eyes.

Gage walks back to me and squats down to eye-level. “Now I can show you our gift.” He leads me down the hall to the next door, a master bedroom done up in white and neutrals with a large iron bed. A trickle of sun shines through the window sheers, bathing the room in golden light.

“It’s amazing,” I gasp, breathless.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He pulls me to him, hands grasping the back of my head as he tugs me in for a kiss, moving fast over my lips and tongue. He breaks away and holds his arm up to my face, tapping his watch. “We have at least an hour before the others get here, and baby’s asleep. You’ve been cleared by the doctor, and it’s been a long almost eleven months. How ‘bout we break it in?” He nods toward the bed and slides his fingers down the front of my shirt, unfastening the first few buttons and baring my breasts.

There are no words as I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him down into me. “This has been a long time coming,” I say, sliding the belt from his jeans.

“And well worth the wait,” he agrees and pulls me onto the bed.

Later, he’s still tangled in the sheets, dozing off and on, when I get up, slip on my clothes and check on Luke, who’s still sleeping peacefully. I walk out to the porch and sit on my swing. The waves slap the shoreline in an uneven rhythm, and the sky is gray except for a sliver of sunlight dancing far off on the water’s surface.

I love those two so much, but how are we going to do this? We’re not much more than kids ourselves, and now we have one of our own. Neither of us even have mothers to offer advice, to tell us we’re not irrevocably screwing up our kid as we navigate this parenting thing. How will I know what to do when he gets his first fever or his first tooth or his first heartbreak? I’m almost nineteen and Gage twenty, but talk about jumping in with both feet. No, it’s not the way I planned my life, but now I know, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Because we have love. We didn’t come all this way for nothing. Our love is more than most people get in a lifetime, and so no matter our age, we owe it to ourselves, and little Luke, to grab hold and enjoy every up and down along the way. Maybe it’ll be messy. Maybe there’ll be surprises, but we’ll make it through. It’s what we do.

Footsteps echo on the stairs, snapping my thoughts back to the present. It’s Preston, Jackson, and Daddy to deliver my car and more of our stuff. I’m happy they’ll all be spending our first night here with us.

“We come bearing gifts,” says Jackson and shakes a few grocery bags in his arms. “The men are cooking my famous Lowcountry boil.”

Preston walks past him on the steps and bends down to kiss my cheek. “Hope you’re hungry. He makes a ton.” He pauses and looks around. “Where’s the big dope?”

“Napping,” I say but Gage suddenly walks through the door, now fully clothed but disheveled, with a hungry Luke in his arms.

“I’m up and so is Luke-man,” he says. “And someone’s got a growling belly.”

“Give me that boy,” Daddy says, dropping his bags on the wicker chair and taking Luke in his arms. “Papa’s gonna make you a ba-ba,” he says in baby talk. Everyone laughs.

Gage walks over to me and whispers in my ear, “Let’s take a walk while we have babysitters.”

I nod and take his hand. We walk down the steps and across the boardwalk over the dunes to the hardened sand, lying just out of reach of the cold wintertime ocean. The temperatures are moderate in the 50s, but a brisk chilly breeze has me tugging the sleeves of my sweater down over my fingers. “I’ve missed this place.” The realization is stronger standing on the shore, a million memories flooding back. This was always meant to be our home.

“I have an idea.” A sly smile inches up the corner of Gage’s lips. “Remember when we were here before, and I found all those conch shells and you found squat?”

I narrow my eyes, sticking out my tongue. “Your point?”

“Rematch? If you can handle it, that is.”

“Name the rules.” We’re in a stare-down with me doing that tough-guy tooth-sucking thing.

“Two minutes. Best shell wins. Winner gets a kiss and bragging rights.”

“Let’s do this,” I say as he sets the stopwatch on his phone.

I take off, scouring the sand where the ocean’s just pulling out. Down the beach, Gage is hot dogging, talking smack like always, but when I find a tiny but perfect conch, I know I’m golden. It’s no bigger than my thumb but fully intact, a creamy tan color with veins of blue and pink running throughout.

When the alarm sounds, I skip over to Gage. “Take that!” I flash the conch in his face. He’s hiding his behind his back in one hand, but uses the other to inspect my find, scrunching his eyes as he looks it up and down.

“Pretty damn good,” he says, and I smile before he finishes. “Not good enough.”

“Whatever. I’d like to see you top this.” I hold it up like a trophy.

“Sure you can handle it? Mine’s good.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Baby, I know you’re good, but what’s your shell like?” I tease and roll my eyes.

“You tell me.” He extends his hand toward me and unfurls his fingers. He’s right. His is much better, and I drop my puny, insignificant conch to the sand.

It’s a ring. A diamond engagement ring.

I raise my eyes to his. He’s smiling, not in that smartass way but in the same way he looked at me about an hour ago in our room. My legs tremble as he drops to one knee in front of me. “I love how we challenge each other, Rayne. It’s been our thing from the get-go. I thought my biggest challenge in life would be winning your heart, but it turns out my biggest challenge—the one I can’t win—is not being with you. Yes, we’re young. But we’re a family. I need you. I need us. Cuddling on the swing, camping out under the stars, or even baking a little cherry pie now and then. Will you marry me?”

I look at him and remember the broken pieces, the shards of old dreams and old loves that all fell together perfectly to create ours. We cry when we’re broken, but the truth is maybe we’re all meant to be broken. Because that’s how we grow, and real beauty comes from taking those pieces and melting them together into something real and lasting—a mosaic of the life we’ve created, the life still to come.

“I accept the challenge of being your wife. Yes, Gage, I’ll marry you,” I say, without tears, only smiles because I know without a shadow of doubt this is meant to be. I drop down in front of him and he lunges forward, smothering me in kisses, and stopping only once to slip the ring on my finger.

When we make our way back to the house from the boardwalk, everyone’s on our porch, clapping and hollering. I bury my head in Gage’s arm as he hams the whole thing up, bowing before them and saying, “thank you, thank you.” Everyone shakes Gage’s hand and hugs me, including Preston, who offers his sincere congratulations.

Daddy is the last to wrap his arm around me, long and tight, with Luke on his other side. “I wish Mama could be here to see this,” I say.

“She’s here. I think she knows, and she’s proud of you,” he whispers. “I bet she’s watching over this little man, too. He would’ve been the apple of her eye.” As he speaks, a breeze touches my cheek, and the wind chimes on the porch tinkle out a melody.

Mama shows up. I feel her.

I take Luke from Daddy and hold him against me. Gage walks up, wraps his arms around us and leans in to kiss my forehead. For the first time in a long time, everything in my world is perfect.