EPILOGUE
Miranda
We spent the first weekend that we were reunited mostly in bed at Beckett’s penthouse apartment. Beckett cancelled his appointments Friday afternoon and we sat with his uncle Colm and talked about the family and Dan, answering Colm’s questions about how we met and what my family did in Topsail Beach.
When we went to Beckett’s apartment later that night, after dinner and drinks, I barely got through the door before he had me naked and in bed with him.
We didn’t leave his apartment for the next two days, except when Beckett went to get fresh cream for our coffee and bagels from a deli around the corner.
“We’ll be like John Lennon and Yoko Ono,” Beckett said with a laugh, as we didn’t even bother to get dressed on Sunday, and ordered in because his fridge was bare. We didn’t even want to get dressed.
Those first few days were spent going over everything that each of us could remember about our shared past. He told me about his DARPA contract to develop a new comms system, about how he was working with Special Activities Division and so his presence in Afghanistan – and especially the breach into Iran – was classified. How he had very few real memories of the events surrounding the IED and crash except for seeing Dan’s face and the immediate aftermath of the crash when Dan’s teammates tried to rescue him. He told me about his long recovery back in a VA hospital in New York.
I told him about the first months of my life after learning that Dan had died, and after the funeral. How I had fallen apart and spent the first couple of months staying at home, sleeping all day, watching old movies at night.
“You felt guilty that you survived,” I said simply, understanding how hard it was for those who lived to accept it.
He nodded. “Friends wanted me to get grief counseling, but it seemed like I was the lucky one so I had no business being depressed.”
We held each other and talked in quiet voices about how lonely we’d both been in the months after our loved ones died – both of us losing our fathers, and both our romantic partners.
Beckett felt as if he failed Sue, being unable to save her life, despite getting her to the nearest hospital in record time but the sting had been too close to her heart and there was nothing anyone could do.
I was unable to go to school that fall and winter, taking a year’s leave of absence to re
cover.
We shared how we each coped with our losses in the aftermath of the crash, Beckett learning how to walk again, and me learning how to live again.
We were each other’s best medicine.
Four weeks later, I had a short break in my school schedule so we took a drive down the coast to Topsail Beach, deciding to take a long weekend so Beckett could meet Scott and Jeanne and thank them for their sacrifice, as he had wanted to do since he found the letters.
The weather was warm and sunny, and perfect for our weekend away. We stayed at the Yacht Club, in the same hotel room, and spent three glorious days doing nothing but walk on the beach, lie on the beach, eat our lunches on the beach and then late at night, we took a blanket down to the edge of the dunes and lay back, watching the stars.
One of Beckett’s interests, I discovered, was astronomy, and as we lay on the blanket staring up at the sky, he pointed out Cetus, the sea serpent, which has the star Mira.
“When I read about Dan’s death on a forum online, it listed you as Mira, not Miranda and so I thought you were named after the star.”
“You asked me about it, if I recall,” I said.
“I did,” he said and I could see his cheek rise in a smile as he lay beside me. “I was already infatuated with you from your letters and your photos.”
“My photos?” I said, pretending not to know.
He turned over and faced me, resting his head on his hand. “You included some polaroids of yourself in with the letters. When I returned letters, I kept the photos.”
I turned over and faced him, keeping my face unreadable. “You did?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it to remove one of the photos. It was dark, and I couldn’t see, so he took out his keys and shone a tiny LED flashlight that was attached to his keychain.
The photo was of me, wearing a floral sundress sitting on the patio at Oceanside. I was smiling, my cheeks sunburnt after a long day on the beach, nose covered with freckles.
“I fell in love with you, looking at this photo and reading those letters,” he said. “Your dimples, your freckles… I had no hope after I saw you in person that first day.”
I smiled. “When I first saw you, I thought you were a biker. In other words, not on the menu, given I intended to join the FBI. Instead, you were a veteran, and a business man. I’m so glad you found those letters,” I said and cupped his cheek. “I fell in love with you, too, but I felt so guilty about Dan that I didn’t admit it to myself,” I said and looked deep into his eyes. “But I couldn’t stop thinking of you, even when I thought we’d never be together again. I realized I loved you when I thought of you going to my grandad’s to talk to him about us. It seemed like such an old-fashioned thing to do that I realized you didn’t do it to hurt me. In truth, I haven’t been this happy for so long.”
“I love you,” he replied. Then we kissed, deeply, passionately.