Carried Away

Yes, Jake screwed-up. But then again, so have I.

“It was my fault,” I confess, because fair is fair.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Not purposely. He heard us talking––when he stayed overnight at the cottage.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Hugging me tighter, he kisses the top of my head.

“I love you too. You’re my once-in-a-lifetime, Turner. What are we going to do about that?”

He exhales deeply and I can hear the relief in it. “There are things I can change––like where I live––and things I can’t. And how I feel about you is one of them. I’ll get us a house tomorrow. All you have to do is say the word.”

Glancing up at him, I say the words I could never have anticipated in my wildest dreams. “I want to go home.”

I flicker of joy replaces the relief on his face. “Really?”

“Really.”

Epilogue

There are fish under my feet. I wiggle my toes and some try to mouth the glass. Technically, they’re tropical fish and––

“Is that a baby shark!” I yelp, more than a little alarmed.

My husband walks over and peers down at the glass tile floor in our over-the-water bungalow. Glancing up, he smiles and places a brief kiss on my lips.

“Bathing suit, Carebear. Get it on or we’ll be late for our dive.”

I’m suddenly feeling less than excited. “Do I have to?”

“Grand adventure.” He fights a smile.

“Yeah, but…”

Never have I eaten my words like I have with this man. I’ve invoked the mercy rule more times than I’d care to admit.

We celebrated my birthday in Patagonia. His at Machu Picchu. We’ve eaten breakfast in London and gone to sleep in Dubai. It’s been four years of non-stop adventures. But the best adventure of all by a million miles has been the two of us at home on the lake during the off-season. Quiet nights debating the merits and detriments of the European Union, sharing books, and stories.

Jake was right. I didn’t have to live in a big city to live a life worth writing about. I just had to live the one I had to the fullest, in the moment, and not always in anticipation of something better around the corner.

Hal retired and handed the Gazette over to me and Gray. I, in turn, handed the Editor In Chief job to Gray. It’s a funny thing, finally getting what you want––in my case it was recognition for my work––and realizing it isn’t what you thought it would be.

My column was syndicated. And it turns out, the most popular ones I wrote, the ones with the most Likes, Shares, and Rts, were not the ones about my travels abroad. It was the ones I wrote about the people in town.

The Italians have a saying, the whole world is a village. Tutto il mondo e un paese. Hope I got that right ’cause I’m still terrible with languages. And they’re right. Those stories were popular because they hit a common chord. That essentially we are all the same; human, flawed, capable of acts of heroics one minute and ones of great shame the next.

Jake played another two years with the Chicago Blackhawks. And after hoisting one more Stanley Cup above his head, which he dedicated it to Mike Bresler, he announced his retirement. Since then he’s devoted one hundred percent of his time to coaching kids and painting to raise money for the organization.

Kyle lives with us during the summer when he trains exclusively with Jake. If he gets any better, he’s going to need an agent soon.

We were married at home on the Lake. My idea. The honeymoon in Bora Bora was his. Which is why we’re back here celebrating our second anniversary.

“But what?”

Sensing my reluctance, he walks over, and grabbing my hips, pulls me closer. Close enough that our bodies line up perfectly. No fantasies necessary. Sorry, Jackie.

Dipping his head, he plants a string of kisses down my neck. “You wanna cancel and stay in.”

I’d love to. Unfortunately, I married a viciously competitive man and will be branded a coward for all eternity if I do that.

“At laaaast, my true love has come along…” my phone rings, tone courtesy of Etta James.

We both glance at the screen and see Charlie’s number flash.

“Better get that,” Jake says, smiling.

“Jackie’s going into labor!” Charlie howls the moment I hit Accept, frantic as always whenever his wife has a baby. This one counts as number three.

“Calm down, Charlie. The doctor said everything looked good. There’s no need to panic.”

“Zelda’s here and I can’t take her psychoanalyzing me right now.”

“You’ve been mother-in-law free for the first five years of marriage. She’s only trying to make up for lost time.”

We’ve been lucky, last month marked my mother’s second year in remission.

I’m not saying we take mother-daughter vacations, but things with Zelda are much better. Part of me just enjoys watching Jackie force her to change dirty diapers when we all get together for the holidays. Nan’s turning 85 this year and keeps saying she’s willing to live to 100 for no other reason than to keep an eye on Zelda. At least she stopped calling her a hooker. Because fair is fair.