“Thank you, Frances. For everything.”
After the hall is almost empty, I finally turn to my wife. She’s waiting on the bench, and her smile is like the sunrise.
“I knew it,” she says, coming to hug me. “I knew it couldn’t end any other way, not for you.”
Only when my arms close around her am I able to take a deep breath.
“Are you all right?” I ask, resting my hand on her stomach.
“I’m exhilarated. Thrilled. Proud of you and proud that I was right.”
I look at her brown eyes, the thick frame of her eyelashes, the curve of her cheekbones and shape of her mouth. All those details that I treasure like air. Our history together flashes through my mind, and the truth falls into place.
“All these years, I’ve been wrong,” I tell her.
“About what?” Liv asks.
“I’m not afraid when I’m with you. I never have been. In fact, being with you gives me a courage I didn’t know I had. You show me what I can be.”
“No. I just know what you are.”
I lower my head to kiss her, feeling that shift inside me again, the great settling of the earth’s plates, the stars and planets rotating in harmony with a thousand feelings. Gratitude, hope, happiness, surrender. Peace.
And there is a distinct sense of freedom, like whatever bonds lashed me to the ground have suddenly broken. I feel lighter.
I tighten my arms around Liv, knowing that in years to come I’ll have to let go in ways I’ve never imagined. And somehow, that will be okay because my wife will always anchor my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Olivia
June 25
fter my white knight won the battle of his career, he won another battle against his fear of leaving me alone. Though he grumbled like a bear the entire time, he got on the plane a few days ago and returned to Altopascio to finish his consultation work before the Words and Images conference starts.
As we did before, we exchange emails several times a day, and as my pregnancy progresses uneventfully, I always assure Dean that everything is fine.
And it is.
Frances Hunter told us that Maggie Hamilton withdrew from the university and left town, apparently without even telling her father. After the news about the affair and the videos spread, Edward Hamilton revoked his support for the King’s law school building and cut all remaining ties to the university. While that means a loss of his donorship, the board of trustees and the faculty are immensely relieved to have avoided a scandal.
The reporter Rita Johnson helped shift public perception with an editorial article about the Wonderland Café, in which she condemned Edward Hamilton for his aggression during an opening day event that was intended for children and families.
Allie and I continue to brainstorm ideas to jumpstart the café’s business, and we’ve planned a bunch of different events for the coming months—puppet shows, free kids’ meals, cooking classes, craft parties, tea parties, costume parties. Florence Wickham’s granddaughter Margery comes into the café one morning, bubbling with excitement.
“I’ve distributed all the information to our district’s PTO presidents and several other parenting organizations,” she tells me and Allie. “Believe me, you get all those mothers on your side, and you’ll be a smashing success in no time. Your timing couldn’t be better either, with summer approaching.”
Our friends give us a huge outpouring of support, bringing in family members, children, and grandchildren. When more people learn about our themed birthday party offerings, Marianne tells me that we’re starting to book parties all the way into September.
And every morning when I walk into the Wonderland Café where my friends are, when I smell the fresh croissants and soufflés, hear the chatter of voices, I know why Dorothy and Alice were so determined to leave Oz and Wonderland and find their way home. Home really is where your heart’s desire lives.
Ten days before Dean is scheduled to return from Altopascio, Kelsey drives me to the airport.
“Sure you don’t want me to come with you?” she asks as she pulls up to the curb.
“No, but thanks.” I reach across the seat to hug her. “I need to do this one alone.”
“Okay. Don’t forget to call when you get in.”
I go into the terminal and check in for my flight. Trying to ignore my nerves, I go through security and board the plane.
The flight is thankfully routine, and I have only a mild case of morning sickness that wanes shortly after the plane lands at the San Jose airport. I email both Kelsey and Dean to let them know I’ve arrived safely, then retrieve my bag and stand in another line to rent a car.
After consulting my map, I get on Highway 280 and follow the signs to Highway 17, which leads over a winding mountain road to Santa Cruz.