Deep Wood

I shift so that I’m lying on top of him with my chin resting on my arm.

“Maybe you should keep it.”

He eyes me curiously. “You don’t want it?”

“No, I do. But...maybe we can share it.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “The easiest way to do that would be if we were married. Then what’s mine would automatically be yours.”

I know it’s fast. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t suppress the excitement I feel at the thought of being Silas’s wife. “That might be nice.”

He kisses the back of my hand. “You wouldn’t want to give it some time? See if what works out here actually works in the real world?”

“Our world is real, Silas. And anyway, I don’t want to live in a world without you in it.”

He folds me in his arms. I sigh contentedly as he rubs my back, soaking in his warmth.

“If you want to stay on the mountain, we’ll move into the cabin,” he says. “If you want to live somewhere else and keep the cabin as a second home, that’s fine too. You are my world now, Norah. It doesn’t matter where we lay our heads. As long as we’re together, we’re home.”

Epilogue

Silas

Five years later.

The aroma of beef and onions fills the evening air, as the sun glides behind the distant hills. We had some of the dead trees removed a few years back to create a small yard around the cabin. One of the perks of fewer trees has been stellar views of the sunset.

I flip the burgers and top them with cheese just as Norah emerges from the kitchen, cradling our three-month-old daughter, Thalia, in her arms.

“Smells amazing,” she says. I kiss her forehead, then our daughter’s forehead. “Do you want me to bring out the chips and dip?”

“Let’s eat inside. After last night’s rain, the mosquitoes have been downright vicious.”

“I’ll set the dining table.” She gestures to our four-year-old son, Jack—named after Norah’s father—sitting in the moss below his tree fort. “Make sure he lets that poor creature go before he comes inside.”

“On it.” I whistle. “Jack, dinner time.”

He comes skipping onto the porch, holding the mason-jar terrarium I made for him, complete with leaves, twigs and air holes. Today, he’s caught himself a disgruntled looking toad.

“Your mom needs help setting the table,” I tell him. “But first, it’s time to let this little guy go.”

“Can’t he sleep over?” Jack asks, frowning.

“Afraid not. He’s probably got a family of his own to get home to.”

Jack sighs and crouches by the edge of the porch. He unscrews the lid and upturns the jar. The toad lands on his feet, then hops off into the bushes.

Jack stands up and waves.

“Bye!” he yells. At first, I think he’s waving goodbye to the toad. Then I follow his line of sight to the tree fort.

I’ve stopped pretending that I don’t see Norah’s father out here in the woods. Our son sees him all the time. Sometimes they even play together.

I move the burgers to a plate, then cover the grill to burn off the smaller bits stuck to the grate. Jack and I head inside, delivering the meat just as Norah’s finishes opening the dips. Jack doles out the napkins and forks, just like his mama taught him. By the time we sit down to eat, it’s time for Norah to feed Thalia.

I hand feed my wife bits of her dinner so her food doesn’t get cold as the baby suckles her breast. Watching the two of them converse in their own special love language, I can’t help but smile. The night before our wedding, Nora told me she didn’t think she’d ever have a life like this. A comfortable mountain home, two beautiful kids, a loving husband who adores her.

It’s been my privilege to be able to give her the life she didn’t dare dream of.