Ian took his hand warmly. “It’s good to be seen.” He released Dean’s hand and pulled Bailey to his side. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to marry your sister.”
“I don’t mind. We should definitely keep this in the family, I think.”
Anna clapped her hands in delight. “You’re getting married? Ian, you’re in love with Bailey?”
There could have been no misinterpreting the smile Ian gave Bailey. Her knees almost melted with the sheer beauty of it. She clung to his arm.
“I love her,” he said deeply.
“And I love him,” Bailey asserted, her voice trembling.
“Mother was right,” Anna whispered. “We both found true love. Charles couldn’t keep us from it.”
“Bailey found our mother’s diary, Anna,” Ian told her. “We’ll read it together, shall we?”
“Oh, man,” Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even want to think about when our kids want us to help them draw a family tree.”
Anna laughed. “Remember our pact, darling. We don’t dwell on the past, and we don’t worry about the future. We savor the present.”
He smiled and kissed her. “I forgot. You’ll have to remind me occasionally.”
“Gladly.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to contact those disreputable acquaintances again,” Mark Winter commented as he strolled through the front doorway, his deceptively lazy green eyes focused on Ian. “In need of more forged papers, Dean?”
“Most likely,” Dean agreed with a crooked smile. He shook Mark’s hand. “What are you doing here so early?”
Mark looked a bit dazed. “I stopped by to ask Cara out for a date.”
Dean sighed. “Again?”
“Yeah. And, Dean? This time, she accepted.”
Dean laughed and cuffed his friend’s shoulder.
Bailey smiled up at Ian. He covered the smile with his lips.
Forgetting the others, Bailey kissed him back, thinking happily of love and miracles and very special wishes. And knowing that her own had just been granted.
February 14, 1912
I was able to have dinner with the family this evening, to celebrate the children’s birthday. Gaylon carried me to the table. I’m grateful to him for the excellent care he has given me these past difficult months. I know Charles resents the time his father spends with me.
Ian and Mary Anna are sixteen. Almost grown now. I am thankful that I had this much time with them, though I will not be with them much longer. I grow weaker by the day. Even sitting at the dinner table for an hour has exhausted me.
I can’t write long, and my handwriting is growing illegible. Yet I want to complete this one last entry. Someday, my children will read these words, and I want them to know that my last days were not unhappy ones. That my last thoughts were of them.
James came to me in my dreams last night. I told him how reluctant I am to leave our children. They still need me so much. I want to know that they will be happy. James told me that he was very proud of me for the way I’ve raised them. That he kn
ows I have done my best for them. Even my marriage to Gaylon—he understood that I thought it was best for the twins. At least they will have someone to guide them during the remainder of their youth. I won’t be leaving them alone.
James assured me that I needn’t worry. Our children will be fine, he said. They will each find love. Precious, lasting, lifelong love that will bring them great joy and many years of happiness. James laughed when he told me that their love will come to them in a way that I could not even understand now. It was so good to hear his laughter again.
He is waiting for me. He told me that he grows impatientfor me to join him. Now that I know our children will be happy, I find myself eager to go. I’ve missed James so desperately. Being with him again is all I could ask for myself now.
I’m very tired. I shall close now. I don’t expect to write again. Ian, Mary Anna, if someday you find this book and read my words, know that I love you. That I have always loved you. That I always will. Tell your children about me. Love them as I have loved you.
Be happy, my darlings. Someday we will be together again.